The hospital wing was quiet, save for the faint creak of the cot as Mattheo shifted uncomfortably. You stood by the window, staring out at the darkening grounds, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet.

You’d heard about the fight from half the school before you were dragged to the hospital wing by a concerned classmate. Four students—four—were left worse for wear, all because Mattheo couldn’t keep his temper in check. And it was all because of you.

“What were you thinking?” you finally asked, your voice low but sharp enough to cut through the still air.

Mattheo, sitting upright despite the gashes on his cheek and bruises blooming along his jaw, didn’t answer immediately. His fingers traced the edge of the blanket absently, his head tilted slightly toward you.

“They were talking about you,” he said, his tone flat.

You turned, your eyes narrowing as you finally faced him. “And that’s a good enough reason to fight them? You could have been expelled, Mattheo.”

He shrugged, wincing slightly as the motion pulled at his injured shoulder. “They deserved it.”

Your jaw tightened, frustration boiling over. “You can’t just go around attacking people because they say something you don’t like. I can handle myself.”

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes locking onto yours, steady and unwavering. “I know you can,” he said quietly.

“Then why?” you demanded, throwing your hands up. “Why do this? Why risk everything?”

There was a pause, heavy and loaded with words unsaid. Mattheo’s gaze didn’t waver, even as a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Because you were always mine to protect,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “Whether you knew it or not.”

Mattheo leaned back against the pillows, his expression unreadable, as if daring you to argue. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.