A wry little voice in his head wondered if Matthew always looked like this or if he just saved up all his misery for Stephen. But it was a bit difficult for Stephen to avoid wincing when he looked at his friend, who seemed to be doing an admirable job of making it clear that smiling wasn't exactly a task he was up to right now. It was also difficult not to tense up at the hand on his shoulder, especially since he had no idea what to do in return while he was just standing out here.
"It's good to see you too, mate," he said, smiling in return a little, "Can I come in?" Of course, this had to be before Matthew had to tell him, just right out of the gate, 'you're the only one I have left.' Stephen supposed it might have been true, and that he might not have been exaggerating. But still, he well knew how lonely it could get when you'd lost someone close, even if there were other people who cared about you. For Matthew's sake, he hoped that was the reason.
Stephen supposed he could have said 'That isn't true,' or possibly said something uplifting, but the only reply that actually cleared his lips was, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
There was something warped about watching Matthew come closer and closer to crying, something that made him desperately uncomfortable. He'd known Matthew for nearly three years, and in all that time their friendship had relied not upon any sort of emotional connection but upon a strictly intellectual bond. It was what Stephen liked about Matthew. He'd always assumed his friend was somehow immune from emotional conflict, though that must have been a very childish assumption. All the same, he'd never really wanted to be especially personal with Matthew, but now he almost felt like he was obliged. He'd just forgotten what how he was supposed to handle something like this, if he'd ever known how.