another problem for matt to deal with. he didn’t know why, but he always felt responsible for making sure you were okay. he’d been watching gravity falls on his couch when you called—clearly drunk. slurring your words, saying dumb shit, and giggling like a maniac. great. annoyed but unable to leave you there drunk, he grabbed his wallet and keys, ignoring chris and nick’s questions as of why he stood up like that.

he drove to the address you sent, navigating his way through the chaos of the party: drunk strangers, people making out, grinding on eachother, and doing… gross stuff.

he found you slumped on a couch, hair a mess, eyes watery, drunker than he’d ever seen you. wrapping his arm around your waist to steady you, he grumbled, “getting yourself into trouble again? seriously?”

now, you were in matt’s car. he stayed silent, his disappointment very obvious. he could lecture you or try to knock some sense into you, but a small part of him was glad you called him—not chris or nick. shaking that thought from his head, he clenched his jaw as if to signal he was mad.