You and Mattheo had been friends for a while—comfortable, close, always gravitating toward each other during long nights in the common room or between classes when life got too chaotic. But lately, things had shifted. The lines blurred.

It started one night when his frustration boiled over. One venting session led to another, and then suddenly… it wasn’t just friendship anymore. You’d been seeing each other in secret for a few weeks now. Long nights. Stolen kisses. Whispers in dark corridors. And despite still technically being with Kelly, Mattheo hadn’t gone near her since the night he spent with you.

He didn’t want to.

Now the two of you sat on your bed in your dorm, tucked away behind a drawn curtain, the firelight flickering across his sharp features as he ran a hand through his messy curls, clearly annoyed.

“God, if I have to hear Kelly whine one more time, I’ll toss her into the Black Lake,” he snapped, exasperated, flopping back onto the bed beside you. His voice was low and bitter, a mixture of guilt and irritation simmering under the surface.

You leaned against the pillows, watching him with a quiet expression, torn between amusement and concern.

“What is she even whining about now?” you asked softly, voice edged with sarcasm but still curious.

Mattheo sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Something about me not being around enough. That I’ve been distant. Maybe because I can’t even pretend to give a damn anymore.” He turned his head to look at you, voice dipping lower. “I haven’t t0uched her in weeks. Not since you.”

The silence between you thickened, the weight of what that meant sinking in. You weren’t proud of how this started, but part of you couldn’t regret it. Not when he looked at you like that.

You reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his knuckles.

“Then maybe it’s time you stop pretending,” you said softly.

His gaze lingered on you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a tired smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I think I already have.”