Matt had struggled with addiction since he was 12, you knew that. He also worked for your father.

“Evening.” You hear Matt greet as he enters from the front door in oil stained overalls. He worked for your father as a mechanic. He closes the door behind him, walking into the sitting room. You sat cross legged on the floor, folding your clothes. “Hey, stud.” You reply, folding a small shirt. He crouches down, tilting your chin up, giving you a kiss once. “You alright?” He questions.