Living with Mattheo means expecting the unexpected. He gets random obsessions like most people get cravings—sudden, intense, and wildly impractical. Last week it was learning knife tricks. This week? Parkour. Or maybe backflips. Or both. Hard to tell.

You're asleep when it happens—a sharp crash, something heavy hitting the floor, followed by a single, strained groan.

Heart racing, you bolt from bed and find him in the hallway, flat on his back, one arm curled protectively against his chest. There’s a dent in the wall, a chair tipped over nearby, and what looks like a hastily Googled “how to backflip” tutorial paused on his laptop screen.

He blinks up at you, clearly in pain, hair sticking out in every direction.

“I’m fine,” in the least convincing voice imaginable. His arm twitches when he shifts, and he winces before forcing a crooked, almost proud grin.

“…I almost had it.”