It all happens in a blur. One careless stretch too close to the edge and the tangled sheets become a trap around your legs, and then you're falling.

Your back hits the floor with a dull thud. The room falls silent for a moment, quiet except for the soft rustling of blankets above.

Then, instantly—“Oi!”

Mattheo’s voice slices through the silence. His head pops over the side of the bed, his curls falling forward and his eyes wild with worry. “Are you okay?”

Before you can answer, he has already scrambled off the mattress and dropped to the floor beside you. His hands hover, not quite touching at first, as though he’s afraid he might hurt you if he grabs you too quickly. One hand finds your shoulder and the other finds your cheek. He tilts your face towards him.

You blink, still catching up, and give a small, awkward laugh. “I’m fine,” you say, more breathless than convincing.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t believe you yet.

You shift and sit up slowly, brushing hair from your eyes. “Really, Matty. Just slipped.”

He studies you for another second, his lips pressed together as if your words aren't enough to ease the pounding in his chest. Then, without a word, he takes your hands and gently pulls you up, guiding you back to the bed.

You sit on the edge while he kneels in front of you. “Are you sure?” he asks again, his voice softer now.

Instead of answering, you lean forward and bury your face in the curve of his neck. You wrap your arms loosely around him, and the scent of him grounds you in a way that nothing else can.

“Matty,” you murmur, “I’m okay.”

He lets out a breath you hadn't realised he was holding. His arms come up around you, strong and steady, and he holds you close. His hands drift along your back, searching one last time for any sign of injury, even as he pulls you closer.

“I should’ve been watching,” he mutters. “Could’ve caught you.”

You smile faintly. “You still did.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Next time, try not to dive off the bed, yeah?”