<span style="font-style: italic">Mister Grey.</span><br/><br/>Matthew squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing through his mouth as she stood next to him, holding his injured hand in her own. Although he knew it had to be like this he still felt a painful twist in his gut when she did as he had asked and called him ‘Mister Grey’. That may have been how it was supposed to be but it didn’t mean it felt right. She was confused. She didn’t know how to react to everything that had happened in the last couple of days and, out of gratitude, she had kissed him again. He wanted to explain why he had darted away as if she had burned him when she had pressed that kiss to his waist but the words got stuck somewhere between his throat and his mouth. He had already made himself look like an idiot.<br/><br/>So he held back, eyes shut until he felt her withdraw and shuffle away. “Mister Grey…” he repeated to himself, his stomach sinking. “Fuck!” He threw away the shards of glass and turned off the television, padding around the living room area in an attempt to clear his head. Already the wound on his hand was beginning to heal something which he was going to find difficult to explain should Abby think to ask about it.<br/><br/>Eventually it dawned on him that, while he was fine to sleep out here on the couch, all the blankets and the sweatpants he slept in were all tucked away in his bedroom. Growling, he turned and stared hard at the closed bedroom door. Shit. Stalking over he rapped on the door twice before turning the handle and cautiously poking his head in. “Abby? Are you…Can I come in and grab some things?”<br/><br/>She looked ridiculously tiny curled up in his king size bed, clutching his pillow as though it were a lifesaver and still somehow managing to look as if she belonged there at the same time. Arching an eyebrow, he pushed the door open and leaned against the frame, folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head, unable to keep the grin from creeping onto his face. "About before. It's not that I don't want to kiss you or be near you. Don't get that idea. Everything is just incredibly fucked up at the moment. Your father... I don't want to hurt you and the fact that you<span style="font-style: italic">are</span>my student, even if you have yet to attend one of my classes, doesn't help things." He adjusted his position, smile fading somewhat. "And you ran from me first."