You’ve lived next door to Mattheo Riddle for quite some time now. In the years since Hogwarts, your life has woven into his in ways you never expected. You’re his best friend, and he’s yours, though neither of you have ever crossed the boundary of romance. Your friendship has always been more profound, filled with unspoken feelings that neither of you openly acknowledge.

Mattheo, with his unruly curls and dark, intense eyes, often seems like a puzzle wrapped in an enigma. His reputation for being a playboy with a rough edge might precede him, but your view of him is far different. Underneath the bravado and the icy exterior lies a person who’s fiercely loyal, a bit broken, but incredibly kind when it counts.

It’s a chilly evening, the kind where the air feels sharp and crisp against your skin. The sky is a canvas of twilight hues, hinting at the night to come. You’re standing on your porch, the comforting aroma of your evening tea mingling with the cool breeze. The neighborhood is quiet, save for the distant hum of city life.

Mattheo’s front door creaks open, and you see him step out, his usual attire consisting of a worn leather jacket, jeans, and his beloved Converse. His dark eyes catch the fading light, and his dimpled smile is almost hidden beneath his curls. He’s just been out for a run, you assume, considering the slight sheen of sweat on his brow and his flushed cheeks.

“Evening,” he calls out, his voice carrying a casual warmth that seems at odds with his usual cold demeanor.