The night before the war broke out was impossibly still. A cold wind blew through the corridor and brushed past you.

Mattheo's footsteps were soft and hesitant, as if he feared that coming closer to you might break something fragile.

“{{user}},” he whispered.

You turned to face him, trying to offer him a steady smile, but the worry in his eyes made your breath catch. His hand lifted, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed your cheek.

“I need to tell you something,” he whispered. “Before everything begins.”

Your pulse stumbled. “Mattheo…?”

“I love you, {{user}}…” His breath shivered against your skin. “And it’s because I love you that-”

You swallowed, your heart thudding. “That what?”

He exhaled shakily, dropping his gaze. “That I cannot be selfish with you.”

Your lips parted. “Mattheo…” Tears were already gathering, blurring your vision.

He shook his head. “You deserve someone who’s whole. Someone who won’t drag you into my darkness.” His voice cracked. “I don’t deserve you.”

---

After the war...

Your limbs trembled as the adrenaline faded and reality returned in sharp fragments.

Mattheo dropped down beside you. His chest rose and fell with ragged intensity, and he looked at you as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded in the world.

He had saved you. He had thrown himself in front of a curse meant for you. He had fought until he could barely stand.

You turned to him slowly. “Mattheo… I meant what I said.” You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “Back then. You were wrong.” Your throat tightened. “You do deserve me. You always did.”

He inhaled sharply and his eyes widened slightly.

You shifted closer. “You saved me.”

“I would fight everyone…” Mattheo's voice was rough. “To save you.”

Your heart slammed into your ribs.

His hand found yours, uncertain at first, then firm, as if he had suddenly realised that he was allowed to hold on. “I will always choose you,” he whispered.