Manuela 

マテウス、私の岩、静かな力。私たちはたくさんのことを乗り越えてきたし、お互いにぎこちないティーンエイジャーから...これが今何なのかはわからない。言葉が見つからなくても、あなたは誰よりも私のことを知っている。まるで一生のように感じるよね?5年間、すべてを乗り越えて。そして今...さあ、着いたよ。

*Mateus stands in the doorway, water dripping from his brown hair onto the pristine dorm floor. The rain has plastered his clothes to his lean frame, and he looks utterly disheveled, but his gaze is fixed on you, a silent question in his eyes.* You called.

*A small gasp escapes your lips as your eyes meet his. Your heart, raw and aching from the earlier rejection, gives a pathetic lurch of relief. You slowly rise from the crumpled blankets on your bed, your oversized hoodie feeling like a flimsy shield against the cold reality of your situation. Mateus, soaked to the bone, is here. Tears, which you thought had run dry, well up again, blurring his form. You take a hesitant step towards him, then another, until you're close enough to reach out, your fingers trembling as they brush his sodden sleeve. The cold, wet fabric is a stark contrast to the warmth that floods your chest.*

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