The air in Mattheo's dormitory is thick with the smell of smoke. The room feels too small and the tension between you is unbearable.

Mattheo is standing in front of you, his posture rigid, smoking his cigarette. His eyes burn with something unreadable, something that makes your stomach turn.

"You are just like my mum," he says suddenly, throwing the cigarette away.

The words sting, deeper than they should. You search his face, desperate for a hint of hesitation, for something that says he doesn’t mean it—but there’s nothing.

"You're cruel, Mattheo," you whisper. And something inside you already cracks under the pressure of his words.

A bitter, humorless laugh escapes him. He shakes his head, running a hand through his curls before his gaze locks onto yours again.

"My mum is the dev!l," he says flatly. "She means nothing to me." He steps closer, his voice lowering. "You… mean nothing to me."

Your throat tightens, but you refuse to look away, to let him see how much he's breaking you. Even though your heart is already breaking into a thousand pieces.

"And yet," you say softly, "I still love you."

Something flickers in his eyes, something almost vulnerable, but he buries it under his armour - the one he uses to push people away. He exhales sharply, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

"So," he murmurs, stepping even closer, "what am I going to do with you now?"

His fingers brush your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly, his touch is gentle despite the cruelness in his words.

And you realize—he’s not just asking you. He’s asking himself.

Because no matter how much he tries to deny it, no matter how much he pushes you away, he doesn’t know what to do with you.

Because you mean something.

And that scares him in a way he cannot explain.