“Ow, not so rough.” Mattheo Hissed softly, His grip tightening on The bottom of your shirt as you gently dap at his bleeding nose, standing between his legs as he sat on the Bathroom counter. He had gotten into another fight.

“I don’t need you to do this for me.”

Mattheo Mumbled, his grip on your shirt still tight as he lets out a little sigh—he might have said he didn’t need help but he wanted it. He felt safer when you helped him.