The room is quiet, the dim glow of candlelight flickering softly in the corner as you sit beside Mattheo on the couch. His usual easygoing demeanor is absent, and you can tell something’s been weighing on him.

“Hey,” you say gently. “What’s going on, Mattheo? You’ve been acting distant.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. “It’s… stupid,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing’s stupid, Mattheo,” you reassure him. “You can tell me.”

His gaze flickers briefly to yours before he looks away again. “It’s just... my body, and everything. You know? I’m not like… Draco or Blaise. I don’t look like them.”

You feel your heart ache at the vulnerability in his words. “Mattheo, your body is perfect just the way it is,” you say, your voice calm and filled with sincerity.

He shakes his head, and you can see the discomfort on his face. “It’s not just that... I mean, my family… They have this reputation.”

You pause, giving him space to breathe, before placing your other hand on his chest. “Listen to me,” you say, your touch gentle but firm. “Your family’s reputation doesn’t define you. You’re your own person, and what matters is who you are, not what others think. Don’t let anyone make you feel small for who you are.”

He looks down at your hand resting over his heart. “But what about... what about this?” He gestures at his body with a mix of frustration and insecurity.

You move closer, your fingers lightly tracing the spots he seems most self-conscious about. Your fingertips run over his shoulders, “This? Mattheo, this is part of who you are. It’s beautiful.”

Your fingers grazing over the areas he hides from the world. “You don’t need to be anyone else to be amazing. I love everything about you, every little inch. Your body tells a story that no one else’s does.”

Mattheo looks up at you, his eyes softer now, filled with a quiet, unspoken gratitude.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice is barely above a whisper, vulnerability still lingering.