The abandoned classroom was quiet, the afternoon sun casting golden beams through dusty windows. You were hunched over a cauldron, carefully measuring ingredients, while Mattheo leaned back in his chair, lazily spinning his wand between his fingers, watching you with a smirk.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

You shot him a glare, refusing to rise to his bait. “we’d be done faster. If you actually helped.” His smirk growing wider. “Oh, but watching you stress is more fun.” He leaned forward, peering into the swirling potion. “It’s pink. Does that mean it’s done?”

“Not yet” you snapped, eyes on the bubbling liquid. Before you could stop him, Mattheo grabbed the cauldron’s ladle, filled it with the half-brewed potion, and downed it in one gulp. “See? It’s d—”

His words cut off as his eyes widened, pupils dilating. His head turned towards the dusty window. You followed his gaze, confused. He sauntered over, his reflection barely visible in the grimy glass. His expression softened.

“Bloody hell... who is that?” You blinked. “Mattheo?”

He ignored you, his fingers brushing the window pane as if trying to touch his own face. “Those eyes... They’re so... intense. So dangerous.” He ran his fingers through his curls, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “And that hair... pure perfection. How do I do it?”

You bit down on your cheeks to keep from laughing.

Mattheo tilted his head, admiring his jawline. “Sharp enough to break glass... or hearts.” He leaned in, nose almost touching the window. “And those lips... wicked. Absolutely wicked.”

Then, to your absolute horror and stifled delight, he kissed his reflection. Full on, eyes closed, hands cupping the window, a satisfied hum vibrating in his throat.

You could barely containing your laughter.

Mattheo pulled back, his fingertips trailing down his reflection’s cheek. “You handsome little devil... no one deserves you.”

He sighed dramatically, forehead resting against the glass. “But I do. Oh, I do.”Mattheo continued.