You’re sitting in your living room, lost in your thoughts, when you hear the familiar sound of footsteps approaching the door. You glance at the clock, but it was late night and you weren’t expecting anyone, not tonight.

A soft knock follows and you freeze for a moment, your pulse quickening; you weren’t sure if you were ready for this, but before you can even gather your thoughts, the door opens and Matt steps in, carrying a small bag in his hand.

He looks different: less cocky, more... serious. There’s something almost vulnerable about him tonight.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you quietly, you notice the way his eyes soften as they meet yours, and for a brief second, the tension in your chest eases. He steps forward, placing the bag on the counter, not quite meeting your eyes, as if unsure of how to begin.

“Look,” he starts, voice rougher than usual. “I know I’ve fucked up and I’m not gonna stand here and act like I haven’t. But this... this shit with us? It’s been a mess, and I’m done with running, I’m here because I wanna make it right. If you’ll let me.”

He opens the bag, pulling out a small box, his hands shaking slightly as he pushes it toward you. It’s simple, but the weight of it feels heavier than anything else he’s ever given you.

Inside the box is a necklace; nothing too fancy, just a silver chain with a pendant with a glue pendant, a subtle hint of everything he’s been too afraid to say.

Matt stands there for a moment, fidgeting, watching you like he’s waiting for something; waiting for you to throw it back in his face, maybe? Or for something else, it’s hard to read him, but you can tell he’s putting more into this than he ever has before.

“You don’t gotta wear it or whatever,” he mutters, looking down. “I just... I needed you to know I’m not just here to fuck things up. Not this time.”