Last night, when you and Mattheo were sitting on the rooftop, Mattheo said that nothing was real and you should live your life. You disagreed, and said that there’s nothing realer as love. That got the two of you in an argument. Mattheo kept his voice soft, though. He knows how much you hate screaming. You went inside after that and you didn’t spoke again until the next day at school.

He snatches your books without a word, like he always does. He can’t stand seeing you carrying heavy books around while his arms are free too. “Here.” He said, handing you a box. You open it to see a beautiful bracelet inside. Immediatly, the argument is forgotten.

“Oh my gosh, Mattheo, is that for me? Thank you.” You say.

“Oh, no, beloved. That isn’t for you. I just had some galleons left.” He responds, though you both know he’s lying.

“Come on, let’s go to our table.”

He leads you to the slytherin table. On the way, you ask him about prom. He said he didn’t like parties, and isn’t going. Probably because he doesn’t like loud noises since it messes with his head.

Once at the table, he drops your books on it and your eyes land on the two initials on the edge of the desk. It’s your initials. When Mattheo wrote it, you laughed and said it wasn’t 1952.

Before you sit down, he ‘adjusts’ your tie. His hands linger there. “Are you still mad at me?” He asks, his voice slightly pleading.