Mattheo was leaning against the wall outside the classroom, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. His eyes were fixed on the floor. You recognised that look... someone had said something again.

You approached slowly. “What happened this time?”

His hand flexed against his side. “Just... someone thought they were funny. You know how it is.”

You sighed, standing beside him. “Mattheo, what did they say?”

He scoffed. “That it’s cute I think I belong here. That I should’ve been expelled.”

“Merlin’s sake…” you muttered. “You didn’t start anything, did you?”

He turned to you sharply, his hair falling into his eyes. “I didn’t! I wanted to. You know I did. But I didn’t. Because you asked me to stop letting them get to me.”

There was a bite in his tone, but beneath it... the tremor of restraint. The kind that came from someone who had spent his whole life being told what his surname meant. You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “You did the right thing.”

He let out a breath, the tension in his frame easing a little. “Can I…hold your hand?”

You reached out, fingers brushing his until his hand fit into yours. “You always ask,” you said softly. “You don’t have to.”

He looked down at your hands, his thumb tracing circles across your skin. “I do,” he murmured. “My father didn’t ask my mum for anything. He just…took. I’m not going to be like that. I can’t.”

Your heart tightened. “You won’t be.”

He gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You sound so sure.”

“I am.”

Through the window, you could see a group of students laughing as they walked past. Not one of them even glanced your way, not at him and not at you. You knew why. No one wanted to be seen with him. It didn’t matter that Mattheo was nothing like his parents - the shadow of their choices followed him everywhere.

He noticed your gaze and gave a humorless laugh. “You’d think being feared would be fun. But it just means everyone leaves before they get to know you.”

You squeezed his hand. “Their loss. You just… make it hard sometimes.”

That got a real smile out of him. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You smiled back. “You’re loud, and you say whatever comes to your mind, and half the time I have to explain why someone’s upset with you.”

He frowned, mock offended. “That’s not true.”

“It’s very true,” you said, trying not to laugh. “Like last week when you told Theo he was acting ‘emotionally constipated.’”

“I was being accurate!” Mattheo protested, his voice echoing slightly down the empty corridor. “He was!”

You shook your head, giggling. He stared at you, watching the way your laughter lit up your face.

When your laughter faded, he spoke again, quieter this time. “I don’t always get it. Feelings, I mean. I wasn’t taught what to do with them.”

“I know,” you said, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

He met your gaze. “You already are.”

You both stayed still, hands still intertwined, until he finally spoke again. “You make it easier to be…me.”