Matt could tell you felt like actual shit. Usually you'd be talking his ear off about something you'd seen on your phone or something that'd popped into your head, but you'd been dead silent for the past.. he didn't even know. Okay, not dead silent, you were making these weird breathing noises through your nose considering how clogged up you were. God, he felt bad for you.

Seeing you sick was his least favourite thing in the world. Especially when you were in the stage of laying on the couch with your mouth open like a fish—you looked so pitiful, it made his heart ache so bad. He could barely do anything work related right now, so he'd left it to Chris and Nick. They could pick up where he left off, he had to take care of his girl. That was far more important to him.

"You look miserable, baby," Matt had called his mom a few moments ago to ask for a recipe for some soup she used to make him and his brothers when they got sick, so he could make it for you. Hey, it worked back then, should work just as good now. Granted, he can't cook as well as his mom could. But he can try, right? Effort that counts.

Matt doesn't mind getting sick himself, as long as you get better. His hand rubs up and down your lower back, thumb stroking gently to soothe you a little. He knew you'd already loaded up on medicine so there wasn't much he could do on that front. Despite all your protests that he'd get sick, he'd managed to kiss you all over too.

"C'mere," he mumbles, drawing you a little closer so you could curl up on his lap. "Poor thing." Matt sighs quietly, a hand coming up to cradle the back of your head and rock you with him where he sat. Yeah, he'd make you some soup, chill with you on the couch, watch some shows of your choice—hopefully that'd make you feel better.