#c.matty.foster

[thephoebeyates]

≈ blue harbor bus station, 5th august 2024. with @just-foster

The week had been…well, everything Phoebe needed, honestly. Though there were a few people at the retreat, it had been a mostly isolated affair, which seemed to work for her. No distractions — virtual or in real life — and she managed to write. She had thought packing two thick journals was ambitious, but both were filled with a variety of notes, chapter outlines and short stories; her laptop having at least one final piece on there, even if it was a rough draft. 

But her heart had ached for home. For Linc’s gentle smile, and Seb’s penchant for trouble. And Misty swiping at her ankles as she watched TV with Foster…Foster. Her heart ached for him most of all. It had been tough, a week without him, as embarrassing as that sounded. The first night — with no Instagram to scroll until her eyes grew heavy, or TikTok to provide much needed noise to fill the silence, or chefs complaining that she had taken his share of blankets again — it had been hard to fall asleep. Being active both mentally and physically the next few days really helped, but nothing quite like falling asleep at home.

Foster and their bed. The two loves of her life.

She had just stepped off the bus, noticing him standing for her under the outdoor shelter, and had barely grabbed her bags when she was swept up in a embrace, feet momentarily losing contact with the floor. “Oh my God, hi! Hey!” She squealed, letting out a laugh at how delighted she was at such an enthusiastic greeting. “Hey.” Phoebe repeated, stroking through Foster’s blonde curls. “You okay? You’re kinda squishing me.” She confessed, hoping that her boyfriend was just really happy to see her, and something serious hadn’t occurred in her absence that made him feel the need to showcase extra affection to soften the blow. 

[thephoebeyates]

The offered champagene was came over quickly as the wait-staff cleared their starters and brought out the next course, congratulating them once again for the hilarious misunderstanding that would have once ruined their evening, many months ago. The couple managed to joke about it, laugh at what the other patrons would be thinking, and Phoebe wondering aloud if this meant they got a free dessert as well, giving Foster an opportunity to rib her about her relentless sweet tooth.

And after their meal was complete, the hours melting away as they talked about anything and everything, and the bill was paid — Phoebe letting Foster handle it with little fuss on her end — they headed home, still playing the game that had started at the very beginning of the night. "I don't usually bring anyone home on the first date." Phoebe teased as she led Foster through the door, taking a moment to fuss over Misty, before letting him guide her into the bedroom.

And later on, entangled in the bedsheets and each other's arms, she placed a kiss on his chest, over his heart, reminding him with little words that he was hers and she was his. And fell asleep cocooned into him, never feeling so safe and secure with another person.

Truly happy, and complete. And in love.

End.

The craziest part was when she said they were perfect for each other, he actually believed her. He believed that he could be the man she needed him to be, because she was the kind of woman who had inspired him to change. She was fixing him, purely by loving him. The trauma of his childhood, the curse that loomed over him... Every day with her, it felt a little more healed.

The sound of cheering barely registered to him as he continued kissing her, eyes blinking open slowly and brain fuzzy as she finally began to pull away. Get up, get up now. His brow furrowed and his knees protested as he wasn't quite quick enough for her getting up, looking around the room to realize— oh shit, yeah that definitely looked like something. He winced sheepishly at her as he returned to his seat, the waiter immediately making his way over. 'Congratulations. Shall I bring you a bottle of champagne?'

Fuck it. He looked over at Phoebe with a shrug. Tonight was a celebration, after all. No one else needed to know the reason. "Sure, that would be great."

[thephoebeyates]

> Phoebe's apartment. For @just-foster

Perhaps it was stupid to join in with the latest TikTok trend. However, when the trend involved Taylor Swift and relationships, and one of her closest friends happened to be a tattoo artist...

It hadn't started with the trend. In fact it started months before the newest album was even released, after their trip to Michigan where Phoebe and Foster had felt more comfortable verbally claiming each other. Whether in the throes of passion, or cuddled up in the late hours with no one else to hear, they'd call each other theirs. Tell me I'm yours. Tell me you're mine.

When Foster showed off the phoenix tattoo, it pushed things further in her mind, and Phoebe wanted to repay his loyalty somehow, but all the ideas that she and Seb bounced around didn't seem right.

Then the album came out, and that one specific lyric became a trend, and by chance — as if the universe was telling her all signs pointed to yes — she had a note in Foster's nicest handwriting, where the word 'mine' just happened to be used.

After a few hours of Seb teasing her as he tattooed her upper right thigh, Phoebe had that word permanently etched on her skin. Whilst she was impressed with Seb's work, a part of her was worried that the reception to her new ink would be less than stellar than her own reaction to the phoenix adorned on Foster's ribcage.

Nonetheless, she was posed on the bed in the tiniest nightdress she owned — Misty thankfully distracted by some catnip sprinkled on her scratcing post in the living room — in a manner where he wouldn't easily miss the new alteration to her appearance. Heart pounding as she heard the key turn in the door, his voice greeting Misty in a hushed whisper, and padding straight to the bathroom, she let herself have one last little freak out as she heard the water run, regaining her composure once the shower turned off and, a few seconds later, Foster entered the bedroom. Cool, calm, collected. Her voice not even shaking as she greeted him.

"Welcome home, baby. Good day?"

[thephoebeyates]

≈ the vault nightclub, friday 13th september 2024. with @just-foster

‘Fake it ‘til you make it’ was bullshit. Phoebe was trying to have a good time when out with a small group of girls from her seminar, though she could admit obsessively checking her Instagram was probably not the way to go about things. 

She should have blocked Foster on everything, should have just deleted him and truly moved on. But she noticed he was always one of the first people to view her story, whether it be a song shared from Spotify, a quote, or a little candid shot of Misty sleeping. Unless he was at work, then he’d view it last. So, it came as a surprise that this Friday — when he should have been finishing up dinner service — his username was the first one to have popped up on the view count of her story: a picture of a line of glasses perched on the wall surrounding the dance floor area. An idea struck her then, and she asked one of the girls she was out with to take a picture of her outfit when they were taking a fresh air break in the smoking area.

It wasn’t something she usually would have worn. In fact, Phoebe was convinced it was some old Halloween costume, or perhaps cheer outfit. Regardless, the top with the glittery ‘P’ drew her in immediately when she saw it on the hanger in Thrift Haven, and the matching mini-skirt was just an added bonus. She had felt self-conscious at first, constantly tugging the garment down where it barely rested over her ass, or using her faux fur shawl to drape over her, but as the night continued — and as more alcohol hit her system — she felt herself grow more confident. 

After the mini photoshoot was completed, she uploaded the picture, tagging her location and the Taylor Swift song she was quoting, and obsessively waited for some sort of Foster interaction to come. Nothing. She uploaded another story, a crowd shot of the dancefloor, which he had viewed about ten minutes later. But after looking through the comments and likes on the physical post, it wasn’t like he had even seen it. But she wouldn't stop checking.

Eventually, the girls managed to get her onto the dancefloor. She didn't really recognize the song playing, but it was an easy enough beat to move her hips to, and she soon found herself almost fully forgetting about Matty Foster and whether or not he had seen her Instagram post. However, then a new problem arrived. In the shape of a man in an ill-fitting linen shirt that only seemed to highlight his sweat patches, mimicing her movements just a little bit of the side to the group of girls. In response, they moved. He followed, eyes on Phoebe the entire time. After a couple of songs, she began to grow sick of this behavior, deciding to get a drink and hopefully lose him in the crowd. But the guy managed to stay hot on her heels, approaching her as she leaned across the bartop.

"What's your name?" He asked, question innocuous enough, but there was something uncomfortable about his gaze.

"I'm not interested." Phoebe responded, turning back to try and get the bartender's attention.

"Oh come on, dollface, don't be like that. I saw you shaking it out there. You're a real tease..."

Phoebe bit back a reply, determindedly staring at the shelf of liquor behind the bar. The guy still continued, stepping closer. Grabbing her shoulder, lurching her body into his direction.

"It's rude to ignore people y'know. C'mon, you love the attention, don't cha? And there's no need to play hard to get..."

Phoebe huffed out an irritated breath, tugging away from the man and glaring. "I'm. Not. Interested." She repeated slowly, as if the issue was him misunderstanding her in the first place rather than his inability to take 'no' for an answer.

He didn't budge, the grasp on his shoulder even tighter. Around them, everyone partied on. And the dread settled in Phoebe's stomach, praying that someone, anyone, was witnessing this and would step in to help.

[thephoebeyates]

≈ the last time this place will be known as the phoster apartment, sunday 1st september 2024. with @just-foster

Phoebe didn't know how much time had passed since leaving the diner. The space had felt too constricting, the amount of information thrown at her in such a short time too overwhelming. The idea that Foster just wasn't who she thought he was. That within moments of Tefi opening her mouth, Phoebe's entire life had just crumbled before her eyes.

So she got up and left, and walked a path she hadn't walked since she herself worked at the diner in her high school days, making a lap around town, watching the sun slowly set until the physical inky blackness surrounded her, the warmth of the sun disappearing with it as it dipped under the horizon, her shivering causing her to remember she had left her jacket in Foster's car.

She had to go home. She had to sort this.

The walk back to the apartment complex was long, Phoebe practically dragging her feet as she walked up the four floors to the apartment, taking an extra minute outside the door to just catch her breath. To focus. To stay calm. She opened the door, immediately feeling a sense of relief of the image of Foster on the other side, stepping forward to close the space to seek the comfort she usually associated him with. However, the events of the evening hit her hard and fast, and she made a point of just standing in the doorway, regarding him with carefully constructed neutrality instead.

[thephoebeyates]

≈ waterway diner, september 1st 2024. with @just-foster and @tefibetancourt

Phoebe, as of late, wasn't used to being told 'no' by Foster. She was aware of how spoiled she sounded, knew it made her seem bratty and full of herself, but considering her requests were usually 'hey let's go for a drive' or 'maybe we should check out that new movie at the theaters our next day off together', they weren't exactly the most unreasonable requests.

So, when Phoebe asked if they could get dinner at the Waterway Diner, not feeling like cooking but wanting a change of scenery from the apartment and not sure if she could handle another fancy meal, his no seemed...odd. Weirdly harsh to her ears. Phoebe had naturally clung onto his negative reaction to the diner, trying to find out what the establishment had possibly done to offend him, not even feeling victorious when he eventually gave in as a way to avoid her pestering.

The drive over was slightly stilted, and though Phoebe didn't really feel like going there anymore, knew if she changed her mind this late in, would make things worse. So she plastered on her best smile, held his hand with her own in a vice-like grip, and dragged him through the doors of the diner, deciding that whatever negative feeling he had about it, she'd hopefully change his mind.

She immediately spotted Tefi talking to one of the other waitresses, waving over at her when they made eye contact, and heading to sit in her section. "Hey Tef!" Phoebe greeted brightly, as she approached them. "Hope you don't mind, I tip well, I promise." She joked, and gestured to Foster, frowning at his expression, which was...well, unreadable. "Uh," Phoebe looked back at the waitress, trying to not seem too concerned about her friend's first impression of her boyfriend being ruined for no damn good reason. "This is Foster." Any joke about how he usually wasn't like this died on the tip of her tongue, letting a sudden awkward tension settle over the three of them. "So, what are, uh, today's specials?"

[thephoebeyates]

≈ the phoster apartment, 28th july 2024. with @just-foster

Ever since Phoebe had been told about her acceptance to the writer’s retreat, she had both been excited and nervous, flip-flopping between the two emotions, as she packed, panicked and made plans throughout the week. It was suddenly Sunday night before she could even comprehend the days; her small roller-case out near the front door, her meticulous packing list (written out about fifty times) on the coffee table, the last-minute items she wouldn’t be able to add until the morning highlighted with her favorite pink highlighter. She herself was freshly showered, damp hair air-drying with help from the open window in the bedroom, sprawled on the bed in one of Foster’s old T-Shirts, completely forgoing her usual little short-shorts due to the sticky heat.

She was reading over one of the many informational PDFs sent her way, engrossed in the itinerary and ‘retreat’ essentials, that she had been barely aware of Foster’s presence as he moved around the room, completing his nightly routine. In fact, she only really acknowledged him when she felt the bed dip and a gentle peck on the back of her shoulder. “Hey, baby.” She greeted in a murmur, finally tearing her eyes away from her screen to peek over at him. “I know, I know, it’s late. Big day tomorrow, blah blah blah. I just wanna make sure I’m not missing anything.”

[thephoebeyates]

> Getting Ready for Pride Event. For @just-foster

Phoebe was in the final stages of getting ready; sticking on her eye gems with precision, with a steady hand she didn't usually possess. She didn't do too much normally; her work look was normally just enough makeup she didn't look dead, and at home on her days off she went bare-faced. And currently, nights out to bars and clubs were few and far in between. But she wanted to go all out for Pride, even if the fucking eye gems were more of a hassle than she initially thought.

"Hey, do these look eve — oh." Phoebe had turned from the mirror for Foster to examine her face properly, feeling the air knock out of her as she laid eyes on him in his own outfit, too busy concentrating on the eye gems in the mirror to focus on what was going on in the background. She had been pleasantly surprised when he took up her offer of getting him a Pride outfit, and though he seemed hesistant about the see-through mesh tank top she discovered at Thrift Haven, made no protest. Phoebe was going to tell him that if he felt uncomfortable in it, he obviously didn't have to wear it, but once her eyes fell on him, her brain short-circuited a bit.

It left little to the imagination, the fabric sticking to his defined abs, the lack of sleeves showcasing his very, very defined biceps. The fact that every tattoo — including the phoenix on his ribcage — was visible...

"— Wow." She finished intelligently, voice slightly breathless, completely forgetting the initial question she had wanted to ask.

[thephoebeyates]

— the sandwich establishment. ft. matty foster ( @just-foster )

It was hard to find neutral ground to meet up at. So many places in town held too many memories, regardless if they were bad or good. Too much history built into the bars, restaurants, and stores that shaped Blue Harbor. Still, if Phoebe was anything, it was persistent, and managed to find somewhere her and Foster could meet up without the suffocation of memories marring the reunion.

The Sandwich Establishment was a cute little shop; perfect weekend spot for families and teens to meet up. The owner often talked about how two 'rockstars' had a fight in front of his eyes not too long ago, though Phoebe couldn't really bring herself to believe that anecdote. However, the food was good, the atmosphere was casual, and there were enough customers at any given time to give patrons their privacy.

Sitting at the table near the window that overlooked the parking lot, Phoebe couldn't help bouncing her leg with nerves as she watched the world pass by waiting for Foster to show up. God, she hoped he would. He agreed to come, and she had to take his word for it. Meeting each other halfway and all. Relief momentarily washed over her when she spotted him, offering him a small wave as their eyes met through the glass, though her heartbeat quickened when he came in through the door and headed to the table.

"Hi. Hi!" She stood up, reaching out for a hug, arms slowly dropping, unsure if that was an appropriate move. "I'm, uh, glad you came. It's good to see you."

[thephoebeyates]

It was like all her limbs felt too heavy, and Phoebe didn't have either the mental of physical capability in that moment to reach down and grab any of the items she had requested. If her brain wasn't so hazy, she'd feel bad about it, but thankfully the alcohol in her system was guarding her from any negative thoughts or feelings right now.

Instead, she just released a soft sigh as Foster kissed her cheek. "You're just saying that so you don't have to have a pickle pop...but I'll remember." She murmured, her vague threat even less menacing now her eyes had fluttered back shut. No other argument was made though, letting sleep claim her. It was nice, for once, for Phoebe to not be in the caretaker role; something she'd no doubt feel mortified about in the morning, but that was her hungover self's problem. For now, she just let the feeling wash over her, letting her carry it home.

Thread Complete ✔️

He couldn't help it — sometimes, she just did something so... cute he could practically feel his heart swell. He huffed out a little laugh, and this time it was his turn to lean forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "Sure you were," he teased, moving to place the bag in the foot well of her seat. "You can sleep, if you're tired. I'll wake you up when we get home." The pickle pops would wait a few days (or forever)...

[theromandaniels]

In Roman’s more recent history, matching bluntness with bluntness wasn’t the most productive way to engage out of his extremely limited social circle, but it was honestly refreshing. The man had been in the store maybe once, with an energetic girl who cut through the usual quietness of Re-Chording with non-stop talking about Taylor Swift’s career history. He had seen her a few times, watched as she seemed to observe Roman from the aisles of records or the guitar sheet music, and he briefly panicked that she was some insane Amethyst super-fan, waiting for a moment to pounce.

It turned out to be worse, when Ophelia mentioned she had seen the brunette out for lunch with none other than Elijah and Nilay, which of course made him think she was some sort of spy. This guy, however, in front of him, always seemed more removed. Distant. “I can tell,” He said of the lack of musical ability or interest, “People who play, or collect vinyls have a certain look about them. Like your…” He elaborated, trailing off with a gesture, not sure if she was a friend, sibling, girlfriend. Elijah’s little protege. Regardless, he had seen girls like her backstage at Amethyst, tucked under Harry’s arm when he and Kaya were on the outs. “Anyway, any reason you’re speeding through Earthwave like organic vegetables are out to get you, or will the rest of my grocery shopping experience be uneventful?” 

He had to admit it was refreshing the man didn't even try to sugarcoat it, allowing Foster to take all the blame so that they could both move on. He wondered, if he told the man about his breakup with Phoebe, would he tell him that was also his fault just as bluntly? A part of him wanted to try it, just to get an impartial opinion...

But the man wasn't exactly a stranger, he realized, once he mentioned Re-Chording. This was Roman Daniels, a former bandmate of Eli's. Phoebe had mentioned it the one time she dragged him into the store. "Yeah, well, I'm not much of a musician, and I'm more of a Spotify guy," he shrugged. Probably not the best tact to undermine the guy's entire business, but something told him the man would appreciate honesty.

[thephoebeyates]

White knuckles grasped at the basin as he began to move inside her, arching her back and spreading her legs a bit more to make the motion easier for Foster. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good inside me.” She groaned, “Filling me so deeply — ah!” She broke herself off with a row of breathless gasps as he picked up speed, resisting the urge to close her eyes so she could continue to watch them from the vantage point of the mirror. The tenseness in his arms as he tightly gripped her hips, the look on his face as if he was fighting the urge to lose himself to the pleasure completely, and the idea he was holding back had Phoebe’s cunt twinge deliciously, moaning out at the thought. “Baby, baby please…” She mewled, so close, her body on fire after not experiencing this pleasure fully for the week. “I want you to — fuck, harder please.” She wanted to see the more animalistic side of him, wanted him to give into his urges more than he ever had before, letting go of the build up from the week of being apart.

She was exquisite, and she was all his. A week away from each other could never change that. He watched her watch herself as he slid inside her, the way her eyes struggled to focus, jaw going slack as he filled her completely. "So fucking beautiful," he groaned, as her eyes locked with his, hoping that she saw it: how amazing she was in his eyes. Gripping her hips, he began to thrust in and out of her, starting slow but gradually picking up speed as need took over.

[thephoebeyates]

Whilst it was a gamble of how he'd react to the use of his name, the little whimper was enough for Phoebe to keep that noted in the back of her mind for another time to discover that further. Returning his kiss gently, she let it convey everything that went unsaid between them. Everything she knew he couldn't say right now, though from their closeness, could just feel it at the edges of them, reluctant to sink into it unless Foster was also ready to. "Baby, we need to —," She huffed out a laugh as he pulled her in even closer, eyelids so heavy she just let them slide close, resting her head back on his chest. "We need to clean ourselves up and get ready for bed properly." It came out slurred, distorted by a yawn, the steady rise and fall of Foster's breathing, and the warmth sturdiness of his arms wrapped around her, lulling her deeper into slumber, the weariness she had been fighting now impossible to ignore. "M'kay, five minutes." She muttered into his bare skin.

They had all the time in the world, after all.

Thread Complete ✔️

He closed his eyes as she rested her forehead against his, the use of his full name — his preferred name — pulling a little whimper from the back of his throat. He knew- god, he knew if anything was love, it was this, and that the only thing holding him back now was himself. Soon, he knew. Soon, he would have to face it. But not tonight. Tonight, he could just bask in the glow of a feeling he refused to name, believing that if he just ignored it, he wouldn't be able to scare it away. He pulled her in for a kiss, and snuggled her deeper into his arms, holding her like he'd never give her the option of trying to fight.

[thephoebeyates]

It was easy to forget about the chill in the air or the discomfort of water dripping down her body as Foster pressed against her, the cold ceramic of the sink not even registering in comparison to the heat in between her legs. When he turned her, a gentle ‘oomph’ was released from her, eyes immediately locking to the almost unrecognizable woman in the mirror.

Pupils blown from pure need, lips swollen and red from use, soaking wet hair slicked back away from her face, Phoebe already looked like a woman wrecked, and they hadn’t even started properly. A shiver danced down her spine that had nothing to do with the droplets of water escaping from the ends of her hair as he kissed her neck, and, as he began to enter her, watched her face morph into that of first mild discomfort to ultimate pleasure — jaw beginning to go slack — as he stretched her out. Her eyes dropped from her face to below, breath quickening at the sight of him filling her up, letting out a whimper, darting her gaze back up to lock eyes with his in the mirror.

The truth was he always felt possessive and needy, and it was only because he had to function as a human being that he ever held himself back. He loved her. He loved her. He never thought he could do that, but it was like... all this time, it was just waiting for her. He was waiting for her to show him how. He was already starting to grow hard when she pressed their bodies together, her coaxing and her praise all he needed to get him there. With her knee hooked over his hip, her entrance was already tantalizingly close, but with their skin slicked from the shower, he wouldn't be able to get proper purchase.

"C'mere," he practically growled as he led her out of the shower, not even bothering to turn off the water as he crowded into her space. He didn't care about the water they were dripping; that was a problem for a future them once their needs were satiated. He pressed her up against the sink, at the last second spinning her to face it, so they were both looking in the mirror as he guided himself to her entrance. "Look," he cooed, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. As he slowly pushed inside, he wanted her to see the goddess that he saw.

[thephoebeyates]

There was a brief moment where fear made Phoebe froze as Foster stood from the table, the thousands of apologies she wanted to catapult his way to keep him from leaving swirling through her mind yet dying on her tongue. A little voice told her that he wasn't Spencer, that he wasn't just going to storm off and leave her in the dust because he didn't like to hear what she had to say.

And it was only proved when Foster captured her lips in his, kneeling down in front of her to reassure her, nodding at his words as she let out a few shaky breaths to stop the tears from falling further. "So are you. We are, for each other." She croaked out with a soft smile, ending the conversation by leaning over and kissing him back.

Though it was easy to get lost in the feeling of Foster's lips against hers, and the warmth of his hands still pressed against her cheek, the sound of cheering and applause was enough to pull Phoebe back, curious on what was going on in the restaurant to warrant such a reaction. She glanced around, feeling the blush rise in her cheeks when she noticed numerous people staring over at them. Shit, did they just hear her whole confession spiel? She looked back down at Foster to ask what he thought, heart dropping when she caught onto what the other restaurant patrons saw.

They were in an expensive restaurant, and he was on his knee in front of her. And they had just kissed. Oh no.

"Oh my god, get up, get up now." She hissed at him, laughter escaping her out of pure embarrassment, tugging at him when he wasn't getting up fast enough for her liking, skin burning from what was currently happening to them.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Foster couldn't shake the thought that he should've been better for Phoebe. That even before he'd known she existed, he should've been putting in the work, de-cluttering all the shit that constantly plagued his mind. All those years he sat around, entirely closed off to even the idea of someone like her, that when she finally showed up, he'd been entirely unprepared. He had tricked her — pretending like he had any clue what he was doing, like he had anything figured out when in actuality he was totally scared and lost.

And somehow, like some sort of fucking miracle, Phoebe still loved him in spite of all that... She had broken past all his defenses, seen the ugliness that lay underneath, and in defiance of everything he'd ever known, she still chose him anyway. He was embarrassed that she'd had to beg him to commit, when the truth was he was the luckiest man alive that she even gave him the time of day. He rightly should have burned through all his chances a long time ago, but Phoebe, with her infinite grace, had seen something in him worth saving.

But to hear her say now that she hadn't believed she deserved him, tears in her eyes as she talked about guilt and shame, it caused his chest to constrict. He didn't even think before getting up out of his seat, kissing her as he knelt in front of her. "You make it easy," he said, his thumb brushing against her cheek. And sure, he tried hard to make her happy, but the desire to do so was entirely instinctual. If he was good, it was only because she made him. "I promise you, I've wanted you from the first night we met. It was never you that made me hold back. You're perfect, okay?" He meant it. She was perfect for him.

[thephoebeyates]

"And that's all that matters." She promised, because ultimately it did. Regardless of what words were used to define how they felt, it didn't change anything. Especially moments like this, where they could have been the only two people on the planet, where the world could have ended outside and they'd be none the wiser. She leaned forward, foreheads touching each other. "You're mine, Matty Foster." She murmured, feeling both like she was overstepping a boundary using his first name — only uttered from Phoebe's lips once during the incident in the elevator — but also like it fit perfectly for the gravity of her words, what she was promising him. "I'm not letting you go without a fight."

Sometimes, Foster wished he could erase that word between them — not the way that they felt, but how it hovered over their heads. He couldn't stop feeling like one day it would ruin them, like her endless patience would run out or he'd fail to live up to expectations. He'd never known the good kind of love, and he still wasn't sure he was capable of it. But he appreciated that, for now, Phoebe wasn't pushing him on it, and that she seemed to instinctively know that saying it once was enough for him.

"You have me," he assured her, and his chest ached in the sweetest way. They were still here. They were still them. Nothing that mattered had changed. He gently nudged her chin so that she'd look back up at him. Phoebe. His Phoebe. "I'm yours."