The music thumps, deep and rhythmic, as you step into the dimly lit room. The party is already in full swing—laughter and chatter mix with the clink of glasses, the familiar buzz of life you once thrived in.

Mattheo stands by the drinks table, his hands expertly balancing the bottle of firewhisky, the glass already half full as he pours himself another drink. His eyes are trained on the amber liquid, his expression distant, lost in thought.

“You made it,” Pansy’s voice cuts through the noise, her tone teasing yet laced with something else. “Oh look, it’s {{user}}.”

You can feel the weight of her words as her gaze shifts between you and Mattheo, who seems oblivious to everything around him.

Theodore leans in, his voice quieter, but still carrying through the bustling party. “Mattheo doesn’t care… they broke up.”

You glance over at Mattheo, but he doesn’t meet your eyes, his attention still on the drink in his hand.

Pansy laughs, a soft, knowing sound. “Oh, he cares.” Her words hang in the air like smoke, thick with meaning.

You push through the crowd with Harry by your side, the familiar weight of his presence offering some comfort. When Pansy spots you, a sly smirk dances across her lips.

“And she brought Harry,” she says, her voice laced with an almost too-casual surprise.

You feel the tension rise in your chest, though you try to ignore it, choosing instead to focus on the chatter around you. You walk past Mattheo, your eyes briefly meeting his, and the world seems to still.

Mattheo’s jaw clenches, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. But you can see the way his fingers tighten around the glass, the way he pulls it to his lips, as if trying to drown out whatever it is he’s feeling. Another drink. Another escape.

And yet, you can’t help but wonder if the glass is enough to silence the way his heart beats faster at the sight of you.

You keep walking, but his eyes are still on you—undeniably, impossibly, still on you.