Before I can even get another word out, Mateo pulls me into his arms without hesitation. It's not some half-hearted side hug or awkward pat-on-the-back type of embrace, it's full and warm, and it completely surrounds me. My cheek presses into his chest, and the dam I was barely holding back finally bursts. The tears pour out, fast and hot, soaking into his shirt while my chest heaves with quiet sobs.
Mateo doesn't say anything. He just holds me tighter and starts drawing small, calming circles on my back with his palm, over and over like a quiet lullaby in motion. We stay like that for a long while, or maybe just a few minutes. Time gets blurry when you're crying into someone who's unexpectedly gentle with you.
Eventually, my sobs soften into sniffles, and the trembling in my hands begins to settle. I pull away a little, just enough to look at him. My face feels blotchy, my breathing uneven.
