You’d felt off since the morning, a slight dizziness that wouldn’t quite go away. But you weren’t about to admit it, not with a full schedule of classes and Mattheo constantly finding new ways to tease you. Showing weakness around him? Absolutely not.

“Hey,” Mattheo’s voice broke your concentration, his tone unusually sharp. He leaned across the table to study your face, his brows furrowed. “You look like sh/t.”

“Thanks, Mattheo,” you replied dryly, avoiding his gaze. “Always a charmer.”

You tried to focus on slicing your ingredients, but your hands felt unsteady. The fumes rose higher from the cauldron in front of you, and the dizziness became unbearable.

Your vision blurred, the edges darkening. You tried to grab onto the table for support, but your knees buckled beneath you.

“{{user}}?!” Mattheo’s voice snapped, alarmed. The last thing you registered was his panicked shout before everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you were cradled against something warm and solid. You blinked, disoriented, realizing you were on the floor—no, you were in Mattheo’s arms. His face hovered above yours, a mix of worry and frustration etched into his features.

“Don’t do that to me,” he muttered. “Stay still... What the h3ll happened?”

You tried to sit up, but his arm tightened around you. “I guess… I didn’t feel great,” you admitted weakly.

“Didn’t feel great?” His voice rose slightly. “You scared the cr4p out of me!” His hand brushed your cheek, his thumb lingering as he examined your face.

“Mattheo, I’m fine,” you protested, though you didn’t sound convincing even to yourself.

“You’re not fine,” he shot back, his voice firm. “We’re going to the hospital wing, and you’re going to take care of yourself. Got it?”

Before you could argue, he shifted, sliding one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back. He stood smoothly, holding you in his arms like you weighed nothing.

“Mattheo—”

“Not a word,” he cut you off, his jaw tight. “You’re not walking anywhere. End of discussion.”