Unspoken Bonds - Mattheo Riddle x Reader

The following days felt different. Lighter. The walls that had been so firmly in place between Y/N and Mattheo had cracked, and now, they found themselves in unfamiliar territory—unsure, but no longer distant.

There was still a tension between them, but it had shifted. It wasn't the bitter, cold silence of before. Now, it was something warmer, something hesitant but filled with possibility.

Mattheo had started staying at the house more often, and while they weren't constantly talking, the weight of their shared confession lingered in every glance, every brief moment their paths crossed. Y/N could feel it, like a magnet pulling them closer, but neither of them seemed ready to fully bridge the gap.

One evening, as Y/N sat in the living room, pretending to read one of the books Mattheo had left out for her, she felt his presence before she saw him. He hovered in the doorway for a moment, and when she glanced up, their eyes met.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Y/N's heart did a little flip. She nodded, scooting over on the couch to make space for him. Mattheo walked over, sitting down beside her, careful to leave enough distance between them, though it wasn't as wide as it had once been.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the silence with a soft, comforting warmth. Y/N fiddled with the corner of her book, sneaking glances at Mattheo from the corner of her eye.

He looked... different. Softer. There was a tension in his shoulders, but it wasn't the sharp, defensive posture she had grown used to. He seemed almost unsure of himself, like he was navigating unfamiliar ground. And in a way, he was.

"You've been quiet," she said finally, her voice breaking the silence.

Mattheo gave a small shrug, his fingers drumming lightly on his leg. "I didn't want to push."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Push what?"

"Us." The word came out quietly, like he wasn't entirely sure he should say it. He turned to face her, his dark eyes searching hers. "I don't want to make things worse. I don't want to hurt you."

Y/N's heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. She had spent so long seeing Mattheo as this unbreakable, untouchable figure, but here he was, sitting beside her, unsure and a little lost. And it made her realize that they were both navigating this new ground together, trying to figure out what came next.

"I don't think you could hurt me more than we've already hurt each other," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But that's not what I'm afraid of."

Mattheo tilted his head slightly, a frown pulling at his lips. "Then what are you afraid of?"

Y/N hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to find the right words. "I'm afraid of what happens if we don't try," she said finally. "We've been avoiding each other for so long, pretending we don't care. I don't want to keep doing that."

Mattheo's gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He reached out, his hand hovering near hers for a moment before he gently took it. His touch was tentative, careful, but it sent a warmth spreading through her chest.

"I don't want to pretend anymore either," he said quietly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "But I don't know how to fix this, Y/N. I've spent so long trying to stay away because I thought that's what you needed. What if we can't make this work?"

Y/N felt a pang of fear at his words, but she shook her head, squeezing his hand. "We won't know unless we try, Mattheo."

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers as if he was trying to gauge if she meant it—if this was real. And then, slowly, he nodded.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady but quiet. "We'll try."

A sense of relief washed over Y/N, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like they were both on the same page. Like they were finally moving toward something real, something more than just the shell of a marriage they had been living in.

They sat there for a while longer, their hands still entwined, the fire casting a soft glow around them. It wasn't a grand moment, but it was significant. It was the first step toward something neither of them fully understood yet, but both were willing to explore.

As the days passed, Y/N and Mattheo found themselves falling into a rhythm. It wasn't perfect—there were still moments of awkwardness, still walls that needed breaking down—but it was progress. They talked more now, little conversations that slowly chipped away at the silence that had once filled their home. It was tentative, like walking on thin ice, but it was something.

One evening, as Y/N prepared dinner, she heard Mattheo's voice behind her.

"You've been smiling more."

She turned, surprised to find him leaning against the doorway, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite place.

Y/N blinked, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "I didn't realize."

Mattheo's lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. "I've noticed."

Her heart fluttered at the softness in his voice, and for a moment, they stood there, simply looking at each other. The unspoken tension between them wasn't one of anger or frustration anymore—it was something warmer, something filled with possibility.

Y/N took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "You've changed too, you know," she said softly.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. "Have I?"

She nodded, her gaze steady. "You're here more. You're... present."

Mattheo's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He walked toward her, slowly, until they were standing just inches apart. His hand reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken.

"I'm trying," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "For you."

Y/N's breath hitched at the sincerity in his words, and for the first time, she realized just how much Mattheo had been holding back. How much he had been hiding—not just from her, but from himself.

"I know," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I see that."

For a moment, they stood there, the air between them thick with unspoken feelings. And then, slowly, Mattheo leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. It wasn't a kiss, but it was more intimate than any physical touch they had shared before.

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart racing in her chest. It was a small moment, but it felt monumental. They were no longer tiptoeing around each other. They were here, together, and for the first time, it felt real.

"I'm not going anywhere," Mattheo whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

And for the first time, Y/N believed him.