The cool LA night had felt peaceful as you walked alongside Matt, his arm draped around your shoulders, fingers occasionally twirling strands of your hair in that absentminded way he always did. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were just another couple, out enjoying each other’s company under the city lights. You were laughing about something small, voices soft as you walked close together.

But suddenly, the sharp sounds of shouts and camera flashes shattered that peaceful moment. Paparazzi had picked up your trail, and you could feel your heart race as the once-quiet street filled with lights and voices calling Matt’s name, asking invasive questions about you. The crowd moved closer, relentless, and Matt’s arm tightened around you protectively.

“Jus’ ignore it, ma,” he murmured softly, though his jaw was clenched, frustration in his voice as he sped up, guiding you through the crowd. He kept his hand near your face, shielding you from the bright lights, knowing how much you hated the constant flashes. His other hand tugged at the hem of your dress, pulling it down gently, aware of every little detail to keep you safe and comfortable.

When the photographers pushed closer, he didn’t hold back, frustration spilling into his voice. “Nah, c’mon, give us some space, bro,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding. “Y’all really get paid for this?” he added, not caring if he sounded harsh, pushing past the crowd with you tucked closely at his side. His hand brushed aside cameras as he made a path, focused only on getting you both out of the chaos.