Theo didn’t break things loudly. He broke them quietly — by disappearing into his own mind, by retreating behind walls no one could see but everyone could feel.

You knew this about him. You loved him anyway. But over the last month, Theo had pulled away more and more —late nights in the library alone,missed dinners, soft “sorry, I forgot”s, and empty promises to “talk later.”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t mock. He didn’t dismiss you cruelly. He simply… drifted and it hurt more than screaming ever could.

You tried telling him. He listened — or pretended to — but his eyes were always somewhere else. Lost. Tired. Haunted by thoughts he wouldn’t share.

He never meant to push you away. He was just too afraid of what would happen if he let you all the way in.

Until the day he realized you had stopped trying.

You stopped waiting for him after classes. You stopped leaving little notes in his textbooks. You stopped reaching for his hand under the table. You stopped asking if he was okay and for someone like Theodore Nott — who’d spent his whole life believing he didn’t deserve to be loved — that silence was devastating.

He noticed it first when he walked into the common room and saw you curled up on the sofa, laughing softly at something Pansy was reading.

He’d never admit it, but jealousy hit him so abruptly he almost stumbled. Not because Pansy had you smiling… but because he hadn’t seen you smile like that at him in weeks.

He stood there frozen, feeling something cold and sharp spread through his chest.

“Merlin…” he whispered under his breath. “What have I done?”

For the first time, he felt the distance. A distance he’d created. A distance you’d finally accepted.

He didn’t even remember crossing the room — his body moved before his mind caught up. But when he reached you, the words he wanted to say died in his throat.

You looked up at him… and your eyes didn’t light up. Not like they used to.

“Hi, Theo,” you said softly, polite, distant, careful. It gutted him. He couldn’t breathe.*

“I—can I talk to you?” he managed, voice quieter than usual.

You exchanged a look with Pansy, then nodded and followed him out into the corridor.

Theo stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, eyes flickering down to the floor like he was afraid to look at you.

“I’ve been—” he exhaled shakily. “I’ve been terrible. To you. I know that.”

You didn’t say anything.

He swallowed, jaw clenching. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you. I didn’t realize I was… leaving you alone.”

A pause. Painful. Honest.

“When things get heavy,” he whispered, “I shut down. I thought keeping everything to myself would keep you safe. I didn’t think you’d think it meant I didn’t care.”

He finally lifted his eyes. They were glassy. Desperate. Open in a way Theo rarely let himself be.

“But I see it now,” he said. “I see how far away you’ve gotten… and I know I did that.”

He stepped closer, voice trembling. “I don’t want to lose you. Even if it’s my fault.” He took a breath. Soft. Fragile. “And if you let me… I want to fix this. I swear I will.”

Theo wasn’t loud like Mattheo. He wasn’t fiery or reckless. His panic was quieter, sadder, more personal and standing in that dim corridor, with his heart finally laid bare, you saw it:

He wasn’t afraid of commitment. He was afraid he wasn’t worth staying for.

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t give up on me yet.”