you had an asshole of a boyfriend. matt knew it well and hated it even more. you had confided in him about the constant disappointments and hurt, and now your nights often ended in his car or in some random hotel room. matt knew exactly how to handle you when you were feeling down, the way he just knew how to comfort you, to make you forget for a while that your boyfriend was a complete dickhead. he had a way of fucking you into forgetting the world, knowing well enough that your boyfriend could never drive you wild the way he did.

tonight, you texted matt about another of your boyfriend’s dickhead moves. of course. it wasn’t a surprise that matt was there to pick you up, his response as dependable as ever. you opened the car door and slipped inside, immediately feeling the comfort of his presence. matt’s hand reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender but firm.

“again?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and concern. “how many times have i told you to drop that motherfucker? goddamn, he’s a dickhead.”