#foster034

[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]

She blinked in surprise at the sudden harshness of Foster's tone. A minute ago, he had been begging on his knees for her to forgive him, kissing her face, confessing how much he loved her, and now he had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. It wasn't like she wanted to feel this way, and she hated the fact that her feelings were so intertwined to the shit her mom put her through.

But she always thought that Foster understood. Who came from a home even more messed up than hers. He told her he understood, that if this shit was important to her, it was important to him too.

There were so many paths Phoebe could lead this argument into. So many petty digs, like bringing up his own fucking issues with his family, or comparing him to Spencer, just because she knew it would enrage him. But Phoebe stopped herself, because that's what he wanted. He wanted the anger, the arguing, the chaos.

It was Foster's way of dealing with things, and Phoebe already had a lifetime of emotionally immature adults to carry on anymore.

So she stood, slowly walking towards the apartment door, swinging it open, turning back to glare at him some more. "Get out." Her voice was shaky, the tears streaming rapidly down her face, but she made sure her tone indicated there was no room for argument. "I'm not having you speak to me that way in my own home." She let out a shaky breath. "But congratulations, Matthew, you have just ruined any chance of me ever fucking forgiving you. So I think it's best if you just leave and find a new girl to ruin with your fucking toxic troubled bad-boy routine. So honoured that I have made it on the list."

He should have told her. He wouldn't deny that, but she didn't have to be so... morally rigid. Him being married on paper didn't make their situation anything like her mother's, and her accusing him of that was not only hurtful, but insulting. "Oh, grow up," he scoffed, rolling his eyes as she dramatized to call herself a homewrecker. "Don't put your shit with your mom on me." There was no home to wreck when it came to him and Tefi — they'd been separated for nearly a decade even if the state didn't recognize it yet. If she wanted to conflate the two situations, that was her own shit, not his. He wasn't some dick trying to get extramarital pussy; he was a single man who met a woman and fell in love. He had been faithful to Phoebe in every way that counted, even when doing so pushed him past his comfort zone.

He might not have told her everything, but he didn't lie to her. He never painted himself as something he wasn't — unlike her, who admitted to 'tricking' him into thinking she could do something casual. So where was his self-righteous soapbox? Was this the point when they took out the lists and went through all their indiscretions?

What was even the point in defending himself if Phoebe had already made up her mind? If she had decided he was just like her mother's exes — erasing their history and everything they had fought to build — well... maybe he'd been just as mistaken as she was. He couldn't defend himself when it wasn't only him she was arguing with. It was the second time now shit with her mother had come between them — third, if you counted the almost-ruined trip to Michigan. Maybe this was the universe's way of saying he'd been right the first time. A painful lesson he needed to relearn...

[thephoebeyates]

"I..." Phoebe let out a shaky breath, because he did tell her. And she ignored the warning signs, every out he gave her.

And now they were here.

She gave them both a moment to collect their thoughts, fighting every urge to take back her decision, to apologize and go from there. In another life, maybe they had already made up, and were on their way to coming back stronger than ever, treating this night as a learning experience.

But then again, in another life, Foster hadn't been fucking married for fuck knows how long. It was that thought alone that had Phoebe sit up straighter, jaw setting.

"And I told you so many fucking times how much I valued honesty." It came out with more venom than she intended, but the last few hours had been such an emotional rollercoaster that she could barely keep her head straight.

"I don't want to break up with you, Foster, but I just...do you really expect me to be okay with any of this? I might be breaking my promise here, but you broke my trust. You sat in there —," She pointed towards the closed bedroom door, though fiery eyes stayed on him, "and listened to me whilst I explained how my mom went through this. You sat there and said nothing. And I'm supposed to be, what? Okay with being a-a...a homewrecker?" A small voice told her it wasn't the exact same thing, but she respectfully told it to shut the fuck up. "Tell me Foster. I'm listening now. Tell me how I'm supposed to be okay with any of this!"

They would get through this. He hadn't always believed that, but she had convinced him. She convinced him to give them a chance, and then she marked herself as his, and this... this was nothing compared to all that. Compared to the way he loved her, the way she made him felt loved in return. He finally believed that he was ready for it, and this was just... a minor setback. The worst they'd faced so far, to be sure, but nothing compared to forever.

He would tell her everything. Every awful thing he'd ever done, no matter how small. They'd stay up all night while he laid it all out, and then tomorrow he'd file for divorce.

They could do this. They only had to try...

He kissed the tears on her cheeks, let them mingle with his own. Each one like a promise, over and over until... she pulled away. 'You can't, Foster. You can't fix this.' All he could feel was his heart thudding in his head, which was impossible because it was also shattering into a million pieces. "We're breaking up?" he asked pitifully, not quite believing it. And for someone who spent his whole life expecting the worst, now that it was here, he didn't know how to process it. He'd worked so hard just to avoid this from happening, and she had let him believe it.

"But you said— you promised..." he floundered, his thoughts a whirlwind of heartbreak. She said he was a good boyfriend. She had told him that trying was enough. She promised she would never hate him, and yet... She was giving up. She was giving up on them. She was giving up on him.

Just like he always knew she would.

"I told you," he repeated, louder this time. He fell back on his heels. "I told you. I told you. But you just didn't listen."

[thephoebeyates]

Each time he told her he loved her, it was like cutting open a barely healed wound, chest heaving as she sobbed, the gentle kisses feeling more like tiny knives stabbing at her skin. I can fix this, and she wanted to believe that he could. That she could just dry her eyes and let this go, and that he'd prove himself some way and things would go back to normal.

But hadn't that been something they were doing already? Was she just a new girl caught in his current, in the cycle of hurt and pain? How many tears had been shed on this very same couch? How many apologies and promises not to hurt each other anymore had they exchanged over the several last months? They had been better since making it official, but was that because they had tried like they had promised, or just living in denial that this would undoubtedly happen again?

Phoebe shook her head, pulling away. "You can't, Foster. You can't fix this. I...I think we..." She sniffled, the words getting stuck in her throat. "I think we need some time. Apart."

He'd been trying. Hadn't he been trying? That was what he promised her, the same night she promised never to hate him, and she had told him at the time that it would be enough. "I told you," he mumbled — not to her, but to himself. He hadn't done it when it mattered, but he had told her. 'I told you. I told you.' He repeated it like a mantra.

He told her that he didn't do relationships. He told her she would regret him in the end. Time and time again, he'd fought this at every turn, and yet... She was the one who kept insisting. Who kept pushing. Every step, when all he was trying to do was protect himself — and her — she urged him to keep going. To fall harder. Deeper. Against his better judgment, he'd allowed her to convince him that this time, it would be different. It was supposed to be different. It had felt different. But the curse of Matthew Foster caught up with him once again...

I can't trust you anymore... His heart sank. But as she reached out for him, he reached out in return, cradling her face as he peppered it with as many kisses as he could. "Please. I love you." He punctuated every kiss, and now that the word was out, it was like he couldn't stop it. "I love you. Please. I'm so in love with you. I can fix this." They'd done it before — hurt each other, only to build themselves back up stronger. He could regain her trust; he could prove he was who she believed he was. After everything they'd been through, the promises they'd made — she owed him that much at least.

[thephoebeyates]

His relationship with Tefi sounded not unlike Phoebe's own with Spencer. Just with a lot more infidelity than the psychological warfare she experienced. She knew what being in an unhealthy relationship was like, how the need to keep hurting became less of a defense mechanism and reaction over time and just part of the routine.

She also knew Foster had never judged her over what she decided to share about her ex, and that perhaps she should have granted him the same grace. But Phoebe just couldn't. The man before her — confessing his sins — wasn't her Foster but at the same time it was. From the first time they hooked up, he had warned her about the likes of him, and time after time got herself in situations where she had ended up hurt. "You should have told me." If not the full extent of what he did, at least that Tefi was in town. That he made a stupid mistake when he was younger, and his past had finally caught up to him. Phoebe would have gotten that, would have understood.

But stuffing this particular skeleton as far back in the closet as it would go? It made her wonder if there was anything else he was keeping from her, that he wouldn't reveal until he was backed into a corner to do so.

There was the Matthew Foster she thought she knew, and then there was this Matthew Foster, the real Matthew Foster, in front of her, and she barely recognized him at all.

Her heart pierced when he finally said the three words she had been waiting to hear for months. Even within his actions, how she knew how he felt, the verbal confirmation was something she wanted so badly. But now, they sounded tainted, three words that meant so little now than they would have done even earlier today. She kept shaking her head, tears running down her cheeks, forcing herself to make eye contact with him as he continued speaking.

Phoebe would never have expected their roles to be reversed this way. A few months ago, she was pleading him to give them a chance. And now, he here was, literally begging on his knees for her to give him a chance to fix it all.

"I love you," She murmured, voice thick with tears, barely audible even to her own ears. And fuck, that was still true. That despite everything that happened this evening, she still loved him, still fighting off the urge to reach out and fall into him, to let him protect her from all this pain he caused her. She promised him that she'd never hate him, and Phoebe Yates always kept her word. No matter how much she didn't want to.

With a shaky hand, she reached out, no longer fighting off the urge to touch him. "I love you so much, but I..." Her voice cracked. "I can't trust you anymore."

There was a lot about that time in his life Phoebe still didn't understand. She knew the root of it; she knew why he was the way he was, but she could never know the full extent of it. She had seen him at his worst, but she hadn't seen him at his ugliest — when he wore anger like armor that kept everyone at a distance. He hit first, and he hit hard, and he never cared to ask questions later. It didn't matter who was hurt so long as it wasn't him. The world was cruel, but he could be crueler, and that was how he had survived. That was the Foster Tefi knew, and that Foster probably deserved this.

But he also had to believe in the man that he was now, the man Phoebe helped him to become — he was real, too. And Foster owed it to him, and to Phoebe, to never stop fighting like hell to save this. It was hard to believe that honesty could fix anything right now, but she had asked and he had promised, so he forced himself to speak.

"I— neither of us were very good at keeping our wedding vows," he started, eyes glued to his hands, feeling naked as he stood in front of her, confessing the worst thing he'd ever done. "We were always testing limits, pushing each other's boundaries. We'd fight, and we'd find someone else for the night, and we wouldn't even try to hide it. But one time, the last time... I took it too far. I- I slept with her best friend," he admitted shamefully, voice little louder than a whisper, not daring to meet Phoebe's eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment in them as the truth sunk in. "I knew it was wrong. I did it to hurt her. And it did. It ruined her, and us, and I was too much of a coward to stick around in the aftermath." He left in the middle of the night without so much as a note. "I'm not proud of it. It's the worst thing I've ever done. Right next to not telling you."

Finally, painstakingly, he forced his gaze to meet hers, watery eyes taking in all of the mess that he'd made. For the first time, he allowed himself to admit it was all crumbling beneath him, that maybe there was a chance this couldn't be saved. He stepped forward to kneel in front of her, thinking it hadn't been so long ago he'd done this and people assumed he was proposing. Now, he was doing it, begging her to hang on. "But I do. Phoebe, you know that I do. I- I love you." Hadn't he proven that? Didn't she feel it? "Please. Let's just- I can make this up to you, okay? Let me make this up to you."

[thephoebeyates]

Phoebe could empathise to being a fucked-up kid relying on outside sources when family wasn't an option. Numerous of her friendships, even the ones she made in adulthood, shared that dynamic. She knew it was scary, to feel all alone in the world, then to have someone by your side who got it. Even if it became the case of understanding simply not being enough, when the toxicity won out.

The description of his relationship with Tefi made her wince. She hadn't seen the other woman angry — nothing more than her sarcastic, cutting comments back at the diner anyway — but had been on the other side of Foster's ire. Had seen the fire in his eyes, the sneer on his face, as both of them volleyed insults that they didn't quite mean at each other, all based on miscommunication and fear. Sure, Phoebe had seen more of his gentle side than that. Had got to know the soft Matty Foster that the rest of the world didn't know existed. But she also knew he had enemies. CJ and Seb, Damian, who mentioned Foster's past with his sister...

Was Foster inadvertently describing what Phoebe had to look forward to in their future? Chaos? Hurt? Nights like this, sitting on the couch, fighting off tears? All those months ago, in the very same position, was he just trying to ward off this happening? He didn't do relationships, and was that because his attempt at one — a marriage at that — led to total destruction?

Tefi, Phoebe, Damian's sister, fuck knows who else there was. Who else had been burned by Matthew Foster's touch? Who else had been in this position, and who would follow in Phoebe's footsteps?

"What did you do?" Her question had remained unanswered, the missing piece of the puzzle that could somehow make it all make sense to her. When he mentioned he didn't get a divorce because it didn't matter, she shook her head.

"It always matters, Foster. The past matters." Phoebe wasn't proud of her own, of the choices she had made along the way. But despite any regrets, it got her to the path of her dream job, to a place to live outside Weaver Ridge. It had made her resilient.

However, it also made her wary. It made her guarded. Spencer spent the better of five years tearing down her carefully constructed walls to further tear down the confidence and self-love she had spent her entire life working on. It made her never want to believe in love again, always found her mother ridiculous for giving guys who didn't deserve her chance after chance. Always thought she'd be better than her.

Joke was on her, she supposed. Sat here, in the exact same position her mom was sixteen years ago.

"No." The word came out choked at Foster's promise, shaking her head more panic-striken, more violently. "Please, don't. Don't say it." If he thought he could pull the love confession out of his ass in an attempt to save it, he'd have another thing coming. "It's not fair."

Okay, so it wasn't just humiliated... The way Phoebe couldn't stop herself from making another biting remark, Foster thought maybe fury was a better word for it. But what did he know? She was the writer; he was just the idiotic asshole who'd been too scared to say anything while he still had the chance... He knew she was likely biting her tongue about a thousand different words right now, and as much as it would hurt, a part of Foster wished she would just say them all and get it off her chest. "I- That's not-" he stammered. Just because she deserved to say whatever she wanted, didn't mean Foster knew what to say in return...

None of it was coming out right — his explanations, his apologies. He felt like he was in such a rush to get it all out, he wasn't able to take the time to make sure she understood. He tried to reach out to her, like some sort of physical connection would help her know what it was he meant, but she slipped from his grasp again as she went to sit down on the couch. He got the message loud and clear, and while every part of him ached to hold her, he left her to her space.

"No! I never-" Loved her. It was true, wasn't it? That he never said the word? At one point, Tefi had been the most important person in his life. He needed her. He relied on her. He was addicted to her chaos. But he had never loved her — not the way that he loved Phoebe. "We were two fucked-up kids, just... trying to figure shit out. She wasn't good with her family and— you know my shit with my dad, so we thought... I dunno, I guess that we could be that for each other." It wasn't love; it was... belonging — for a part of himself he was no longer proud of.

"We weren't good together. I mean, sometimes we were, but even then we weren't really. It was just... chaos, and it was all either of us had ever known, so we convinced ourselves it was normal. We broke up a hundred times. We hurt each other, badly." He didn't want to tell her what he'd done in the end, but if she asked, he wouldn't lie. "I never got a divorce because it never mattered before. But it was always over.

"I promise, I didn't love her. I've never— only you."

[thephoebeyates]

Foster kept on talking, but it wasn't like he was saying anything. An apology that felt empty, like he didn't quite believe he should be saying it, like he was only saying sorry for getting caught. I didn't help that with almost every breath, he was blaming Tefi. Like the waitress — who had been so quick to share the truth within minutes of them walking to the diner — was somehow preventing Foster be honest for months.

"So if you knew ahead of time that I already knew her, I wouldn't be so blindsided by this? Gee, thanks." The comment was scathing, with a matching eye roll to boot. Phoebe didn't know right at this second if there could potentially be any truth to his words about his wife. That, despite everything, the intern and her feelings were just collateral damage.

Funny, when things blew up for others, she was always the one who ended up hurt.

A wave of dizziness hit her — partly due to the lack of food and spending over an hour in the freezing cold she was sure — and Phoebe slowly made her way to the couch, trying her best to side-step Foster as she walked more into the apartment without getting into his space. Like going near him could prove fatal.

"W-why was she trying to get back at you? What did you do?" She would need to unpack the Tefi stuff properly later, but right now she wasn't here to defend herself, and Phoebe felt a duty to understand the other woman's thought process for this evening.

We're still fucking married.

The words rang in her ears, not helping the thumping of an impending headache, though it formed a glaringly obvious conclusion Phoebe didn't even want to ponder in her head, never mind aloud. "Are you — you never got divorced, right? Is it...are you two..." She let out a shaky breath, her mind coming up with soap-opera levels of affairs and broken promises, and the idea of seeing Foster and Phoebe together being the last straw for a scorned woman who was promised a second chance. "Are you still in love with her? You had to be in love with her to marry her, right? And you won't...you never said it back to me."

The simple fact was that he just hadn't thought any of it through. It wasn't some scheme, nothing was intentional. He just... hadn't thought. About any of it. Before Tefi showed up in town, he'd basically forgotten he was still married. Because it didn't matter — not until he met her. Not until he met someone who opened his heart again. Phoebe changed everything, and by the time Tefi came around, Foster was so desperate to keep her he just. didn't. think.

All he wanted was to take care of her. She looked so small and lost, and it occurred to him dimly that neither of them had ever eaten. He wanted to feed her, and cuddle her up, and make this all be okay. He could make her safe and warm, and explain it to her calmly, and one day they'd look back and laugh at how he'd ever thought he could hide his childish, dumb mistakes from her. If only she would just come inside.

The way she snapped startled him, an eerie calm settling over him in the wake of her outburst. She didn't sit, but she closed the door, and that was a start at least.

Humiliated. It wasn't a good word, but he thought it was maybe one he could work with. Not furious. Not devastated. It implied that if he could just make it up to her, maybe they could get through this. It would take time, but he was willing to put in the work. "I know," he nodded. "And I'm sorry. I should have warned you, but you don't have to—" be embarrassed. "This is my fault, okay? You couldn't have known.

"And Tefi, she— You weren't her target. She was trying to get back at me. If I'd known, I promise-" What? He would've told her? He didn't have the guts before he knew the two knew each other; what made him think he'd have the guts after? There was nothing that could excuse Tefi's behavior, and he would apologize forever for bringing her into their lives. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm sorry."

[thephoebeyates]

Eyes fluttered open at his response, and she nodded at him, like she was expecting that answer. A few months. It was September now, her and Tefi met in June. Was that around the same time Foster found out she was in Blue Harbor? Or before? "And you just...weren't going to tell me about your 'crazy' ex — hmm." She paused, not stuck on the word 'crazy' (though, as Lisa Yates often reminded her, never trust a man willing to paint a picture of a former lover as insane) but the technicality of what his and Tefi's relationship was. They weren't together, but in the eyes of the law...

A few months. She tried to think back to any red flags in his behaviour, anything that would be an indication something was wrong. But no, since their date, since he moved in, Foster had been the perfect boyfriend. And maybe that was the red flag within itself.

"I don't want to sit. I don't want a blanket!" Her body had long stopped reminding her how freezing she was, the anger in her veins doing quick work to warm her up. However, she did step inside, the door closing behind her with a heavy click. But not because Foster asked her to come in, but because she didn't want any potential nosy neighbors listening in.

"I just want to know..." Why you would keep this from me? Why you thought this was a good way to protect me? Why the fuck you didn't handle it sooner? There were too many questions, and some she didn't know if he'd give an answer, or if she wanted to hear it. "I just..." Phoebe leaned back against the door, shaking her head again. "Do you know how fucking humiliated I feel right now?" It wasn't exactly one of the questions swirling through her mind, but it was what she was feeling, at least. Betrayed. Embarrassed. Like the biggest joke in the world.

Her step back was enough to stop him in his tracks, but it was her words that caused him to flinch. Not just what she said, but the way that she said it — with a kind of mocking cruelty usually so far beneath her. He knew he deserved it, and so much worse, but still... it hurt for her to attack on that level, to know that he was the one who drove her there. It was obvious from her reaction that she felt the same.

How long? He couldn't lie and say he hadn't for a second thought about giving her a better answer. A few hours. A couple days... All periods of time that had long since passed without a single word from him. But he couldn't do it. It was one thing to lie by omission, another to lie right to her face. "A few months," he admitted shamefully, quickly following it up so that fact didn't linger. "If I knew you-" knew each other? No, that didn't help his case. "She's crazy, Phoebe. I thought I could protect you from that." Bullshit. Even he could tell that sounded like bullshit. Sure, Tefi could be rash, like the time she burned all his clothes, but he'd never thought she was an actual threat. That was the whole problem...

"I didn't— Can you just come inside? Please?" It would be so much easier to explain if he didn't have to worry about her bolting again. "You can sit. I can get you a blanket. Just- please come inside." She looked ready to physically break apart, and Foster couldn't stand to see it.

[thephoebeyates]

The man before her looked like Foster, sounded like Foster, but after the revelation a couple of hours ago, just wasn't her Foster anymore. He was a stranger in her living room, and when he approached he, seemingly out of concern for her wherabotus, Phoebe flinched, stepping back automatically.

I was so fucking worried.

Good, she thought spitefully, and her blank face morphed into a glare at him."Why? I'm not your wife." The words tumbled out before she even realized her mouth was moving, cutting into the otherwise tense air, tone sharp. She squeezed her eyes shut then, a reaction to her own reaction, shaking her head. No, this wasn't fair, this wasn't the game she wanted to play. Phoebe was better than petty barbs thrown back and forth at each other.

"How long?" She didn't quite open her eyes yet, not sure if she could stand to look at him as he explained himself. "How long did you know she was in town?"

Blue Harbor wasn't that big of a place, and it shouldn't have taken him long to find her, but if Phoebe's intention was not to be found, she was doing a damn good job of it. Foster spent the better part of an hour driving up and down each street, eventually admitting to himself that his best chance of finding her was back at the apartment.

I'm sorry. I'll be waiting for you whenever you want to talk. Please come home.

Maybe she was already there. Maybe he'd come back to find his things in a pile in the doorway. Maybe she told Misty, and Misty would rip his skin to shreds. Maybe he'd let her. He definitely deserved it.

He knew he fucked up. He had a million things to answer for, and all he could do was hope that Phoebe would let him. That she would hear him out. That all her incredible patience hadn't finally run out.

The apartment was still dark by the time that he got home, Misty mewling angrily for a dinner she had expected an hour ago. He filled her bowl and placed it in the bedroom, closing her in so they could have some peace. Peace to do... whatever the fuck it was Phoebe wanted to do.

Time stretched out as he waited for her to come home, each passing second ramping up his anxiety — both for when she came home, or even worse if she didn't. She was emotional and vulnerable, what if someone took advantage of that? What if it wasn't that she didn't want to be found, but that she simply couldn't? What if— He was considering going back out there, or maybe calling 911, when he finally heard the sound of her key in the front door lock.

She looked... wrecked. Exhausted, and hollow-eyed, and shivering — and even not knowing what the future held, he was just relieved she was okay. "Thank fuck," he released the breath he'd been holding onto for hours, rushing over to her like he wouldn't be convinced until he could hold her to make sure she was real. "Phoebe, shit- I was so fucking worried."

[thephoebeyates]

End.

She blinked in surprise at the sudden harshness of Foster's tone. A minute ago, he had been begging on his knees for her to forgive him, kissing her face, confessing how much he loved her, and now he had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. It wasn't like she wanted to feel this way, and she hated the fact that her feelings were so intertwined to the shit her mom put her through.

But she always thought that Foster understood. Who came from a home even more messed up than hers. He told her he understood, that if this shit was important to her, it was important to him too.

There were so many paths Phoebe could lead this argument into. So many petty digs, like bringing up his own fucking issues with his family, or comparing him to Spencer, just because she knew it would enrage him. But Phoebe stopped herself, because that's what he wanted. He wanted the anger, the arguing, the chaos.

It was Foster's way of dealing with things, and Phoebe already had a lifetime of emotionally immature adults to carry on anymore.

So she stood, slowly walking towards the apartment door, swinging it open, turning back to glare at him some more. "Get out." Her voice was shaky, the tears streaming rapidly down her face, but she made sure her tone indicated there was no room for argument. "I'm not having you speak to me that way in my own home." She let out a shaky breath. "But congratulations, Matthew, you have just ruined any chance of me ever fucking forgiving you. So I think it's best if you just leave and find a new girl to ruin with your fucking toxic troubled bad-boy routine. So honoured that I have made it on the list."