The soft hum of voices filled the common room, a comfortable buzz of conversation that ebbed and flowed around you. You sat amongst your friends, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you listened, nodding at the appropriate moments. Their laughter bubbled like warm summer air, pulling you into their rhythm—yet not quite enough to keep you there.

The moment stretched, and without warning, your thoughts drifted elsewhere. The chatter dissolved, words blurring into indistinct murmurs as your mind wandered into the familiar embrace of the void. A black fog crept in, curling at the edges of your awareness until it consumed everything. The voices of your friends faded, one by one, swallowed by the heavy mist.

You were left with nothing. Numbness settled in like an old friend, cold and distant. You had no sense of how long you had been adrift, lost in your own haze.

From the edge of your awareness, someone watched.

Mattheo Riddle leaned back in his chair, his posture deceptively relaxed as his sharp eyes followed your every move—or lack thereof. He wasn’t quite a friend, but he was always there, hovering at the periphery of the group. Part of the crowd, yet somehow apart from it. He had a way of slipping into the shadows unnoticed, but now, his gaze was fixed on you.

Something flickered in his dark brown eyes, curiosity laced with something deeper, something unreadable. He waited, silent, until the moment was right.

A soft touch against your hand broke the spell. The fog shattered, and the world came rushing back in sharp focus. Your gaze snapped to his, locking onto the deep pools of chocolate brown framed by a tumble of messy curls that nearly obscured them. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile, a private expression meant only for you.

“Where did you go, darling?” he murmured, his voice low enough to slip beneath the din of your friends’ chatter, a question meant for your ears alone.

The way he said it, the way his hand lingered near yours, sent a ripple through the numbness that had held you captive.