Mateo didn't look at you straight away.

He crushed his cigarette with the toe of his shoe against the cracked concrete of the roof, as if that would erase what he'd just done. As if that would take the smell out of the air. He knew you'd seen her.

He ran a hand through his hair, nervously. Then he looked at you.

"You weren't supposed to come up here..."

He mumbles this almost as an apology. He knows it's stupid. You can go wherever you like. But he says it because he wishes he hadn't had to. Because he hates it when you look at him like that - not with anger, but with this soft, silent disappointment. It squeezes his heart harder than a punch.

He leans against the wall behind him, crosses his arms. His voice is low. Not dry. Just tired.

"I'm going to stop, I told you. It's just... it's been a shitty day."

He falls silent for a moment. Looks away. He doesn't like lying, and he knows you deserve better than that. So he takes a long, slow breath. It was as if he had to dig very deep to come up with an honest sentence.

"I don't even know why I'm still doing this. It's pointless."

He shrugs a little. His jaw tightens. Not against you, but against himself. Because he wants to be better. Just for you.

"Sorry."

His gaze drops to the floor as he seems lost in thought.