Please Don't Give Up (mattheo x reader)

The air in my room was thick, weighed down by the stale scent of cigarette smoke and leftover anger. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the cracked mirror across from me. The reflection staring back was barely recognizable—dark circles under my eyes, hair a tangled mess, and a frown that had been etched into my face for as long as I could remember.

Another fight. Another night of my mom's words cutting deeper than the last.

"You're so useless, Y/N," she had spat tonight. "Always have been, always will be."

Her voice echoed in my head, and my chest tightened. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop the tears, though they were already welling up. Crying wouldn't do me any good—not when everything in this house was broken. Not when she didn't care. Harley Quinn—the woman, my mother, who was once sharp, brilliant, powerful—had turned into someone unrecognizable. And I? I was left behind, a shadow, just waiting to disappear.

I needed out.

I wasn't going to sit here any longer, drowning in the mess of her life.

I slammed the door to my room behind me, the sound of it reverberating through the house. I could hear her voice faintly, but I didn't care anymore. I threw myself onto the bed, curling into a ball, willing the world around me to just stop.

But it didn't.

The silence in the room was unbearable. My mind raced, my thoughts spiraling out of control until, finally, I fell into a restless sleep.

I don't know how long I had been asleep when I heard it—a soft tap at the window. At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but then the tap came again, louder this time.

Groggily, I got up, walking to the window. And there it was—an owl, perched on the sill, a letter tied to its leg.

My heart skipped a beat. I had never seen an owl this close before, and the letter—it was addressed to me.

I reached out slowly, pulling the letter free. It was heavy, thick parchment, with elegant writing sprawled across the front:

Y/N Quinn,

You are formally invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The words didn't register at first. I turned the letter over, expecting some sort of joke or prank, but it was real. There was no mistaking it. Hogwarts? Magic? It sounded like a dream, but the letter felt too real to be a trick.

I stared at it for a long moment, my mind spinning. Magic. It couldn't be real, could it? But it was. This was my escape.

I looked down at the jacket hanging on the back of the chair. Harley's jacket. The leather, the stitching in the shape of a twisted heart—it was hers, and yet tonight, it felt like it belonged to me. I grabbed it, the soft weight of it settling over my shoulders as I pulled it on. It was too big for me, but it felt... right.

I didn't know why I took it, but I couldn't leave without it.

The letter was still clutched tightly in my hand as I quickly packed a bag, tossing a few clothes inside. It was an impulsive, desperate action, but I didn't care. There was nothing for me here anymore. I didn't even want to think about it.

I shoved the letter into my pocket and quietly moved toward the door. I didn't look back. Not once.

I slipped into the night, the cool air brushing my skin. For the first time in a long time, the weight on my chest lightened. Maybe I didn't know what was waiting for me, but for the first time in years, I felt like I had a chance.

I wasn't sure where I was going, but the letter seemed to guide me, pulling me toward something—someone—that might offer me a chance at something better.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt... free.