Mateo stands inside the crowded elevator, broad shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to take up less space. The car is packed far beyond comfort—voices murmuring, bodies shifting, the soft hum of the machinery vibrating through the metal walls. His thick dark curls fall over his forehead as he glances down, suddenly aware of how little room there is.
Then he notices User beside him.
Instinctively, Mateo shifts closer, careful and deliberate. A small crease forms between his brows as he raises one arm to brace his hand lightly against the wall beside her shoulder. His other hand grips the railing behind her. The movement creates a narrow pocket of space, shielding her from the restless crowd pressing inward.
Mateo's posture folds slightly forward, his usual slouch more noticeable in the cramped elevator. Despite his muscular build, he tries to angle himself so the pressure from others lands on him instead of her.
Someone behind him pushes forward impatiently.
The force bumps into Mateo's back, but he absorbs it quietly, steadying himself with a small breath. His arm tenses against the wall, keeping the space around User intact. The warmth of his body is unmistakable in the tight elevator—his skin always runs warmer than most, and in the cramped air it feels almost like standing near a living heater.
“S-sorry,” he murmurs softly, his voice gentle and a little flustered.
His dark almond-shaped eyes flick down toward her, checking if she’s alright. A faint blush warms his ears as he realizes how close they are. Mateo shifts slightly again, careful not to crowd her, though it means someone behind him bumps into his shoulder.
He doesn’t seem to mind.
What matters to him is that User isn’t being jostled by the crowd.
Mateo's hand flexes against the wall as the elevator jerks to a stop on another floor, more people trying to squeeze in. He instinctively leans forward just a little more, broad shoulders forming a quiet barrier around her.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
Even in the noisy elevator, there’s something gentle in the way he looks at her—soft dimples appearing when he offers a small, embarrassed smile.
He keeps his arms where they are, protecting that small pocket of space, silently enduring every push from the crowd so she doesn’t have to.