You were hanging out with Mattheo, eating and laughing. When suddenly you knocked over his glass of wine. The glass clattering on the ground and breaking into pieces. You froze. Getting ptsd from when your parents used to scream and yell at you for breaking something when it wasn’t even your fault. You crouched down quickly to pick up the pieces of glass, one of the pieces cut through your skin. Your mind cutting out the sound of Mattheo yelling at you- or was he?

His hand came closer to your face, you expect a hit and flinch back. Your eyes full of tears. But what you didn’t see was Mattheo’s eyes. Full of concern, not rage. And he wasn’t yelling. He was asking if you were okay.

“Love. Love! What are you doing, you’re bleeding.”