as the world caves in; mattheo riddle

twenty-six

"Since when do you care to study for Charms?" he questions. 

"Since today," I mutter, already turning away. 

I didn't wait for a response. I didn't really want one. 

I could feel Theo watch as I walked off. Theo cares about me more than just about anyone—that I know. But thats what makes both of our situations so difficult.

I move fast through the Great Hall, keeping my head down. It felt as if Mattheo's presence had rooted itself under my skin, like smoke invading my lungs. 

The corridors were quiet as I walked through them, my footsteps echoing against the stone floors. I didn't know where I was going—maybe the library, maybe not. I just needed to move, to get a breath of air. 

I find myself at the entrance of the abandoned prefect bathroom on the fifth floor, one that students rarely come across. It's one of those overlooked parts of the castle, making it the perfect place when you just want to get away from people. 

The door swings shut behind me, my bag slipping off my shoulder and onto the floor with a soft thud. My fingers find the edge of my sleeves, tugging them upwards as I grasp the edge of the sink, leaning against it. 

I stare at my reflection in the old, dust-speckled mirror. The glass is cracked slightly in the corner, like it's seen too much. 

My eyes look tired, partially masked by my makeup, but you can still see through. Maybe it was a lack of sleep, maybe it was the stress, or the piled up secrets. 

The door creaks, my eyes snapping to look back in the mirror. 

"You're going the wrong way if you're actually headed towards the library," Mattheo's voice cuts through the silence, his voice low and unreadable. 

The door closes softly behind him, his steps echoing off the tile floor. I turn around to face him, my back pressed against the porcelain sink. 

"You stalking me now?" I question, tilting my head slightly. "Listening to my conversations?" 

Mattheo's expression shifts—just barely—but enough. A flicker of something sharp passes through his eyes, though I couldn't tell if he was amused or if I had struck a nerve. 

"No," he says, voice still low, still calm in that way that feels anything but. 

Mattheo takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. 

"But you make it hard not to notice," he continues. "when you storm out like that. Like you're seconds away from falling apart." 

My fingers curl tighter around the sink's edge, Mattheo now standing mere inches apart.

"Maybe I am," I reply, refusing to break his gaze. "Either way you shouldn't have followed me. You're making it too obvious."

His jaw clenches, just for a moment. 

"Too obvious for who?" he questions. 

I blink, slightly taken off guard. We've had this talk too many times. 

"Does it matter?" I shoot back. 

"It does," he says, his voice quieter now, almost rough. "If you're worried about him seeing. About Theo seeing."

Something sharp twists in my chest as I let out a scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"It's not just about Theo," I say in a defensive manner. "It's about everyone, Mattheo. People can't know about us, you know that."

Mattheo doesn't flinch—doesn't look away. But something shifts in his expression again. Like the weight of my words sinks deeper this time, digging beneath skin and bone.