You look down at Matthew kneeling before you in the spot where you usually rest your feet, his head buried where it always is every Friday night. You couldn’t complain, even if most of your nights consisted of these sort of activities.

But deep down, you couldn’t hide the fact that you wanted a real relationship with him, one where you could hold hands in public without shame. You tried so hard to be understanding, but every time the word ‘love’ is even mentioned, he shuts you down.

You weren’t engaging or reacting to his touch like you usually do, far too distracted by your own disappointment. Matthew lifts his head from your lap to meet your eyes, his brows knitted with concern as his wet lips part.

“What’s the matter? You’re… quiet.”