Theo P.O.V
I didn't even realize I was being carried until my perspective shifted, Kyle's apartment hallway now stretched below my eye level, the floor reflecting the overhead lights like some weird, glowing runway under Matthew's steady footsteps. No crashes, no drama. Just his grip, firm and weirdly calm, but I could *feel* the strength in his arms anyway.
His shoulder was an anchor in the middle of my mental chaos. Between my still-racing heartbeat, I caught stupid little details: the damp wool scent of his coat, a faint metallic tang, the warmth of his body bleeding through the layers of fabric. Behind us, Kyle's voice cut in and out, his shouts fading into the electric hum of the hallway lights.
