Mattheo didn’t notice it at first.

He didn’t notice when he stopped walking you back to your dorm because “the boys wanted to play cards.” He didn’t notice when he cut you off in conversations, too eager to joke or brag or deflect.

He didn’t notice when he dismissed your worries — “You’re overthinking it, princess.” “It’s not that serious.” “Come on, don’t start this.”

He didn’t notice when you flinched at his tone. When you went quiet in arguments because fighting with him hurt more than being unheard. When you stopped reaching for his hand in the Great Hall.

He didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

Mattheo was good at running from anything that felt bigger than him — emotions, vulnerability, the truth. But then the distance started to grow.

You stopped waiting outside Potions for him. You started studying alone in the library instead of beside him in the common room. Your laughter softened. Your smile faded at the edges.

He didn’t think you’d ever leave. He thought you were unshakeable. He thought you loved him enough to stay no matter how many times he brushed you off.

Until the day he walked into the courtyard and saw you sitting with someone else —not close, not flirting, not even touching, but smiling.

Smiling in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Something cold and ugly twisted beneath his ribs. For the first time, he saw it:

He hadn’t just been distant. He had been neglecting you. Taking your softness for granted. Treating your pain like an inconvenience and he was losing you.

Mattheo stopped mid-step, heart slamming painfully in his chest. He didn’t hear the birds, the chatter of students, the rustle of leaves.

He only heard your voice — soft, careful — the way you used to talk to him.

That was the moment everything hit him at once. The late nights he blew you off. The arguments he didn’t take seriously. The way you looked at him with quiet disappointment when he brushed aside your feelings.

He had done this. He had pushed you away and now someone else was giving you the space he never did.

“Shit…” he whispered, breath hitching.

Before he could think, he turned on his heel and left — fast, almost stumbling over his own feet, needing space

Later when he had calmed down he searched everywhere for you — the library, the common room, the courtyard again, panic gnawing at him with every second you weren’t in sight.

Then he found you standing alone at the edge of the Black Lake, arms wrapped around yourself, staring out at the dark water like it had answers he didn’t.

Mattheo froze. You looked small, tired heartbroken in a way he had never meant to cause — but did.

“Sweetheart …” he said quietly, voice rough. “We need to talk.”

You didn’t turn around and suddenly Mattheo felt it — not anger, not annoyance, not irritation.

Fear. Real, bone-deep fear.

“Please,” he said, stepping closer, breath uneven. “Don’t shut me out. Not when I finally understand. Not when I finally see what I’ve been doing.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m losing you… and it’s my fault.” And for the first time, Mattheo Riddle wasn’t cocky, or cold, or guarded. He was desperate and He was scared.