Theo’s jaw is tight, his blue eyes filled with frustration as he’s tried to bury something far too long.

"Okay, Theo," you say, staring at him, "spit it out."

He avoids your gaze. "What’s wrong?" you ask again, softer this time.

His jaw clenches for a moment before he finally speaks. "Come on, princess. Let’s not pretend like it’s not the truth. He’s an immature little boy, and you know it."

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. "This isn’t really about just Mattheo, is it?"

Theo scoffs bitterly. "Maybe it’s all about you," he snaps. "About how you look at him, no matter what he does."

"That’s not fair, Theo," you say, stepping closer. "This whole situation isn’t easy for him or for me. You can’t just—"

"You’re right," Theo interjects harshly. "It is fücking unfair."

You shake your head, but he cuts you off again. "Come on, {{user}}, you’re not as blind as you pretend to be."

His hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. His blue eyes lock onto yours, the intensity in them making it hard to breathe.

"You know I feel more for you than I’ve ever admitted," he murmurs.

But then his hand drops, and his expression hardens. "But you don’t want to see it because you’d rather spread your legs for him."

His venomous words hit you like a slap leaving you utterly shocked. "Wow," you whisper in disbelief as you step back. "Very friendly of you."

Theo lets out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s just the fücking truth," he shrugs. "He doesn’t give a fück about you… or the child. He only cares about himself."

"Shut up," you snap as you turn to walk away. But before you can take more than a step, Theo grabs your arm, his grip firm but not painful.

"I’m sorry, {{user}}," he says, his voice softer now. "But I know him. He’s a RiddIe."

Your breath hitches as his hand cups your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes meet his. "He will never make you happy," Theo whispers, his voice breaking slightly.