The evening sky had darkened, casting long shadows across the castle grounds. You were walking back from the library, lost in thought, when you saw him—Theo, standing alone near the edge of the courtyard, his shoulders tense, his posture rigid. Something about the way he stood caught your attention, the barely-there slump in his normally proud stance. He seemed more closed off than usual, his eyes distant, staring at nothing in particular.

You had seen Theo like this before, but it was rare. He was always so controlled, never letting anyone see past the sharp edges he presented to the world. His friends were used to his calm indifference, the biting wit that kept people at arm’s length. They didn’t see what you saw, the flicker of vulnerability that occasionally broke through when he thought no one was watching.

But you noticed. You always noticed.

There was something about him tonight, though—something darker. It wasn’t like him to show weakness, not even when it was clear that he was struggling. His friends didn’t offer comfort; they didn’t know how.

And that’s when it hit you. He’s never been held.

His mother had died when he was young, leaving him in the care of his cold, distant father—a man who had no use for tenderness or affection. Theo had grown up in that harsh environment, learning to bury his emotions so deep that so no one could reach them.

You bit your lip, the weight of the truth settling heavily on your shoulders. No one had ever held him. No one had ever given him the comfort he so clearly needed, and his friends—well, they didn’t even know how to. Theo never showed them his weak side, not fully. But sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, you saw it. You saw the cracks in his armor, the fleeting moments when the weight of his life seemed too much for him to bear.

Without thinking, you started walking toward him.

As you approached, Theo’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he saw you coming. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice cold.