You find Mattheo alone in the Astronomy Tower, the wind cold against his face.

“Mattheo,” you say softly, approaching him.

He doesn’t turn. His jaw is tight, shadows dark beneath his eyes like they haven’t left him for days.

“You should go,” he says, his voice rough.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A bitter laugh leaves him, hollow and sharp. “You should. Before I become him.”

The words twist in your chest. “You’re not him.”

“Aren’t I?” Mattheo finally turns to face you, and his eyes — Merlin, his eyes are burning. “I share his face. His blood. His name. And no matter how far I run, it follows me like a curse I can’t outrun.”

Your throat tightens. “You’re not your father, Mattheo.”

He steps closer, shaking his head, pained. “I tried,” he breathes out, ragged, “I tried to erase it. I fought it every bloody day of my life. I thought if I did enough good, I could bury it. If I loved you hard enough, it would drown out the noise in my head. But the world —” his voice breaks “— the world only sees him.”

You reach for him, fingertips brushing his knuckles. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“I was just a kid,” Mattheo continues, quieter now, almost to himself. “But I wasn’t clueless. I saw what he did. Felt the stain of it on my name, on my skin. Someone who loves you wouldn’t do this to you — they wouldn’t leave you carrying their sins.”

You tighten your grip on his hand. “And someone who loves you wouldn’t let you carry them alone.”

His gaze locks with yours, fierce and desperate, as if you’re the only tether keeping him from falling into himself.

“You think I can change?” he asks, voice rough with something too raw to name.

“I know you can,” you answer without hesitation.

There’s a long, heavy pause.

Then, with a bitter smirk, he murmurs, “Might share a face and a last name… but we are not the same.”

You step closer, pressing your forehead to his, your hands cupping his face as if to hold the weight of his truth. You need him to know that he’s better than that.