While most students had gone to bed hours ago, you and Mattheo were still in the common room.
Books lay open on the table, long forgotten, their pages untouched, while your conversation had turned to teasing, half-serious dares. An almost empty bottle rested between you, and the faint scents of smoke lingered in the air.
Mattheo leaned back in his chair. “You’re staring again,” he murmured.
Heat rushed to your face. “I’m not.”
He tilted his head. “You always do. Like you’re trying to solve me. Like you actually think there’s something worth figuring out.” His lips curved into that dangerous smile... the one that promised trouble.
You should’ve laughed, should’ve rolled your eyes, but instead you whispered, “Maybe I am.”
That was all it took.
Mattheo closed the distance in a heartbeat, his hand curling around your jaw and tilting your face towards his. You let out a sharp intake of breath before melting into his kiss.
You knew it was wrong, knew there was danger in how fiercely he kissed you, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to.
His hands slipped to your waist, tugging you closer and pulling you against him as if he owned you.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen and his eyes were wild with triumph.
No apologies. No hesitation. Only that same knowing smirk, as though this had been inevitable from the start.
You didn't ask what it meant. You didn't dare. Instead, you let the silence settle around you, the memory of him still burning in your mind.
The next morning, your stomach churned with nerves as you spotted Mattheo leaning against the wall with a cigarette lazily balanced between his fingers.
He looked as unbothered as ever, his head tilted back as he blew smoke into the air. Seeing him made your heart twist with a mixture of longing and fear.
You steeled yourself and walked toward him. “We need to talk,” you said.
His gaze flicked to you, uninterested. “About last night?”
You nodded, gripping your arms tightly across your chest. “Yeah. About what it meant.”
Mattheo let out a low laugh. He dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot. “It didn’t mean anything.”
The words sliced deeper than you expected. “What do you mean it didn’t mean anything? You-”
He interrupted you with a shrug, his tone almost bored. “You do realize I have a girlfriend, right?”
The ground seemed to fall out from under you. “What?” The word cracked from your throat. “You didn’t tell me-”
Mattheo rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Didn’t think it mattered. It was fun. That’s all it was.”
Your chest tightened “So you don’t care? Not about me, not about her?”
His gaze met yours. “No. I don’t. People get too hung up on feelings. I don’t waste my time on them.” He smirked again, but this time it was cruel. “You wanted me. I gave you what you wanted. That’s the end of it.”
“I thought… I thought you were different," you whispered.
Mattheo chuckled. “There’s your mistake, not mine.”