mattheo riddle felt like a goddamn fool.

scratch that. he felt like a walking cliché. the kind of idiot who watches his best friend sleep her way through half the castle and still holds out hope he’s the exception. delusional? maybe. but he’d never claimed to be anything else.

from the moment you transferred into hogwarts in third year and slotted effortlessly into his friend group, things had clicked fast, like you'd always belonged. you'd also became quite popular with the crowd seeking endearment. first it was harmless — crushes, gossip, the occasional hogsmeade date with a fourth year who swore he was in love with you. it was cute. entertaining, even.

until it wasn’t. because years passed, and somewhere along the way, the narrative shifted. you were no longer just the pretty girl with the quick wit anymore. you were the one who left a trail of broken hearts and button-downs in her wake.

people talked. of course they did. they called you names behind your back — ones that made mattheo’s jaw tick and fists clench. he never let it slide and neither did any of the boys in the group, to be fair. but still, it pissed him off.

because no matter what anyone said, he never saw you that way. he saw you as just you, as his best friend. so no, he didn’t judge you. after all, he didn't know any better himself.

but maybe he was bitter, just a bit, because you’d slept with half the year, including half the boys in their tight little group. all of them except him. somehow, he was the one person you wouldn’t so much as lay a finger on.

yeah, it fucked with his head and more importantly, his ego.

he tried to ignore it. shoved it down. distracted himself with other girls, other problems, quidditch, exams, parties — anything to avoid that ugly, gnawing feeling that maybe you just didn’t want him. but things never worked out like that, did they? so to avoid the feeling, he just avoided you in general. it was only a few days, just enough so he could collect his messed up feelings. of course, he'd talked to you in class, but otherwise, he'd completely distanced himself.

first term exams were finally over. it was past curfew and the halls were quiet. mattheo had just left a brutal quidditch practice, hair damp from a shower and sprawled on his bed, when he heard your familiar knock pattern.

despite him not responding, you pushed the door open and crossed your arms. mattheo sighed. "what do you want?"