You had been in love with Theodore for as long as you could remember. He was magnetic, even though he rarely spoke. He wasn’t cold exactly, but he was unreachable, as though he lived in a different world to yours.

You tried.

Merlin, you tried.

There were small smiles when your paths crossed, questions left unanswered in class and greetings that fell flat against his silence. Theodore never appeared unkind, just distant. He was your first love.

It was on an ordinary evening that fate intervened. The library was emptying and the candles were dimming as you gathered your books. With your arms full and your head down, you stepped into the corridor and collided hard with someone coming around the corner.

Your books scattered across the stone floor, and you swore under your breath as you dropped to your knees.

“Sorry about that.”

You looked up and saw dark, mischievous eyes and a smile that hinted at mockery. It was Mattheo. He crouched down beside you and quickly picked up the papers. When he returned one to you, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re… Theodore’s friend,” you said, trying to hide your embarrassment.

His smile widened. “Mattheo. And you’re the one who keeps staring at him all the time.”

“I do not-”

“Yes, you do.” He tilted his head. “You like him.”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but nothing came out. Your silence was answer enough. He gave a short laugh, though it sounded strangely hollow. “Figures. Everyone likes Theo. He’s got that… untouchable thing about him.”

The conversation could have ended there... but it didn’t.

After that night, Mattheo started appearing everywhere. At first, you thought it coincidence... him leaving the library when you did, him walking just behind you to class, him smirking across the courtyard when you caught him staring. But you soon realised it wasn’t by chance. He was watching you. Seeking you out. And little by little, you let him.

Unlike Theodore, Mattheo noticed. He noticed the way your hands trembled when you carried too many books. He noticed when you furrowed your brow and chewed your lip while studying. He noticed your nervous laugh, and he looked at you as though it mattered.

Each small gesture chipped away at the fortress you had built around your heart for Theodore.

One evening, you found yourself sitting with Mattheo. “You deserve more than this,” he whispered.

Your pulse jumped. “More than what?”

“More than waiting for someone who doesn’t see you,” Mattheo answered, no hesitation in his tone. “You’ve been standing in Theo’s shadow for too long.”

You looked away, your heart aching with the truth of it. “He was… my first love,” you whispered, almost ashamed to admit it out loud.

Mattheo’s hand reached for yours and when you finally looked back, his gaze held you captive. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that settled into your chest like a vow.

“He was your first love,” Mattheo said, “and I want to be your last.”