It happened quickly.

Too quickly to explain later in any way that made sense.

One moment Mattheo had been there—jaw tight, eyes dark with something he refused to name—and the next, he was gone.

No explanation. No warning. Just silence where he used to be.

People noticed eventually. They always did.

But by then, he had already slipped away from the noise, from the questions, from the eyes that didn’t know what to look for.

You did.

You didn’t follow the crowd when they started searching.

You didn’t call his name down hallways that didn’t know how to answer.

Because you knew better.

You knew what people missed about Mattheo.

He didn’t run. He retreated.

And there was only one place he ever went when the world became too heavy to stand inside.

The Tower was almost hidden now.

Vines had grown wild, curling over broken glass and rusted frames, turning it into something half-forgotten by everyone except memory.

Except you. Except him.

The door creaked when you pushed it open.

Your heart already knew before your eyes caught up.

He was there.

Mattheo sat on the ground near the far wall, back against the cold frame, knees drawn in loosely like he was trying to make himself smaller without fully realizing it. His head was tilted forward, dark hair falling into his face, hiding most of what he didn’t want the world to see.

But not everything.

The way his shoulders were tight. The way his breathing wasn’t steady. The way he didn’t look up right away—even when he knew you were there.

That was enough. Too much.

“Mattheo.” Your voice was soft. Careful.

He exhaled slowly, like the sound of your voice made something inside him ache.

“…You shouldn’t be here,” He said.

Not angry. Just tired.

You stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind you gently so it wouldn’t echo.

“I’m not leaving,” you replied.

That made him finally look at you. Just for a second.

And in that second, you saw it.

Not the version of him everyone else saw.

Not the sharp edges, the cold stare, the walls. Just him.

Stripped of everything he used to hide behind.

Something flickered in his expression. Then he looked away again.

“They’ll be looking for you,” He murmured.

“Let them.”

Silence settled between you.

Not empty.

Heavy with everything unsaid.

You moved closer slowly, not forcing anything, not asking permission from a version of him that wasn’t ready to give it.

A pause.

“I found you,” You said.

His jaw clenched slightly.

“I didn’t want you to.”