The door closes behind you with a soft click.
The room smells like cologne, sweat, and something familiar. Matthew’s sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees. He isn’t smiling like usual, and that alone tells you this isn’t casual.
“You know,” he says quietly, “I’ve done the whole ‘keep it fun, keep it light’ thing my whole career.”
He looks up at you not like a performer, not like someone used to being admired.
“But you didn’t stay light.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair.
“I told myself this was just physical. That we were just easy.” A pause. Honest. Heavy.
“And then I caught myself looking for you after shows instead of the crowd.”
He stands, closing the distance between you.
“I don’t want to pretend this is nothing anymore.”
His voice drops.
“So tell me the truth, do you want me as a boyfriend…”
“…or do you walk away right now and keep me as just another secret?”
He waits. No charm. No jokes. Just choice.