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You and Matt had a fight. It honestly didn't come as a surprise. The both of you were in a bad mood the whole day and all you wanted to do was stay home and be alone. And, well, that didn't happen. All because of your plans.
You had planned, weeks prior, with your friends to go have a big evening and dinner out together. The plan was purely for the enjoyment of everyone. It didn't require a lot of moving or walking around or even driving, so, no complaining about that. It was just a big hang out in someone's backyard, a late lunch while you talk about life, and, eventually, late at night, a drive to a restaurant to end the day and have the last group meal.
Again, it was supposed to be something light-hearted, but it didn't take long for Matthew to get under your skin.
Even though the bad mood was from the both of you, he didn't even care enough to fake a smile when to greet people. Oh, and you were pissed.
You sat beside him during the whole afternoon while he scrolled through his phone and ignored most conversation starters. You tried to overcompensate and be double as social as you normally are because of it.
By the time you got to dinner, it was safe to say: you were exhausted.
And Matthew? His phone had just died so he had nothing to do but actually talk to people. Your friends were nice enough to welcome the moody man into their group conversations but no matter how many pokes you gave his side or pinches on his arm, he just didn't seem to understand what you wanted. Which was, of course, to be slightly nicer with everyone.
The drive home was complete hell. The first few minutes were just silent, yet as soon as you get to the first red light, a simple unnecessary comment from him and you just snapped.
You two screamed at one another the whole drive, and scream after scream, it surely just ended with you just hurting one another more and more with each sentence.
You remember flashes of the last minutes before getting inside the apartment. You remember slamming the door of his car, sobbing your way through the lobby of the building, and closing yourself in your shared bedroom to cry in peace.
Matthew stayed in the car for a while longer, he ignored the shivers that ran through him when you slammed the door and he heard you sob over the loud thump. He then just stared at the grey wall in front of him in the parking lot.
Minutes passed and you still hadn't heard the front door reopen, yet you didn't go to check on Matt. You continued laying over the sheets of your bed, with your wet cheeks and tight chest, as you stared and sobbed at the doors of your wardrobe.
Matt had actually gotten in the apartment already, but he was so silent with the door that he believes not even a ghost heard him walk in.
He took off his shoes and winter jacket, hanging it by the door. He then dragged his feet from the wooden floors of his home and made his way to the bedroom door.
