The pulsing beats of the club thrum through your body as you laugh with your friends. Your eyes flick over to Mattheo, who’s leaning against the bar, his posture casual but his eyes sharply fixed on you. You catch a glimpse of his gaze, and it’s not the usual playful, relaxed look—it’s different tonight. His jaw tightens as he watches you laugh at something Regulus says.

“Let’s grab another round,” Regulus suggests, eading you toward the bar. You’re about to order when you feel the weight of Mattheo’s presence behind you.

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot,” Mattheo says, his eyes flicking briefly to Regulus, then back to you.

You freeze. “Mattheo, what’s wrong?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

He clenches his fists, his knuckles whitening around his drink. “Why do you laugh with him like that? Like I’m not even here? You’re always so different around other people.”

The words sting, and you glance over at your friends, who are talking amongst themselves, oblivious to the tension rising between you two. “He’s just a friend. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Mattheo’s lips curl into a frustrated smile. “You always act like you don’t need me when you’re with them,” he mutters, his voice barely controlled now.

You feel the heat rising in your chest but force yourself to stay calm. “Mattheo, stop. This isn’t about him. This is about you not trusting me.”

For a moment, the anger fades from his face, replaced by something softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

The shift in him is quick, almost too fast, and you feel yourself caught between frustration and a lingering tenderness for him. He pulls out his wallet and slides cash across the bar to the bartender. “Let me pay for the drinks,” he says, his voice quieter now, a way of trying to make amends.

You nod, still feeling that tightness in your chest. “Thanks,” you mutter, your words more distant than usual. You know he cares, but sometimes it’s hard to accept when the weight of his emotions pulls you under.