Here’s another version—slightly more intense emotionally, but still soft and non-graphic, focusing on the immediate aftermath and trust:

You didn’t find him right away.

At first, there was just silence.

Too much of it.

The kind that made your steps slow before you even knew why.

Then you saw the cracked door.

Not fully open.

Not fully closed.

Just… wrong.

“Mattheo?”

Your voice barely carried into the room.

No answer.

But you didn’t leave.

You pushed the door open further.

And that was when everything in you went still.

He was on the floor.

Mattheo was slumped against the wall near the edge of his bed, one arm resting loosely across his stomach, the other braced slightly behind him like he had tried to hold himself up and failed halfway through.

His head was bowed.

Still.

Too still.

For a second, you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe properly.

Because this wasn’t him.

Not the version of him everyone saw.

Not the one who walked like nothing could touch him.

This was something else entirely.

Something quieter.

Something hurt.

“Mattheo.” This time his name came out clearer.

His eyes flickered open.

Slowly.

Like it cost him something just to do that much.

And when he saw you—

Something in his expression changed immediately.

Not relief. Not comfort.

More like he wished you hadn’t.

“…Go,” He said.

Quiet. Flat.

You shook your head before he even finished the word.

“No.”

That made his jaw tighten slightly.

“{{user}}” He started, then stopped, breath catching like the sentence didn’t want to form properly. “I don’t need this right now.”

But his voice didn’t match the words.

Not really.

You stepped into the room anyway, closing the door softly behind you.

“I’m not here to argue with you,” You said quietly.

He let out a short breath, almost bitter.

“Feels like you are.”

You didn’t answer that.

Instead, you moved closer—slowly, carefully—until you were a few steps away.

Then you crouched down.

Not touching him yet. Just there.