The fever made it hard to think straight, but you could still remember the warmth. You remembered how Mattheo had once pressed a kiss against your temple when he thought no one was looking, and how he had slipped his hand into yours under the table, as if it meant something.

You clung to those memories because you needed comfort.

“Mattheo,” you rasped. “I… I don’t feel good. Can you-”

Mattheo twirled his wand as he approached your bed. The curtains parted with a flick of his wrist.

His smirk didn’t falter when he saw your flushed cheeks, the sweat dampening your pillow. If anything, it widened, as though your vulnerability amused him.

You pushed yourself up, dizzy. “Can you stay? Just for a while? Please… just hold me.”

Something in his expression shifted for half a heartbeat, before he covered it with mock pity.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath ghosting against your forehead. “How silly of you to think I’d be any different to my brother.”

You blinked, feeling confused and sad.

He straightened, pacing slowly at the foot of your bed like a predator bored with its prey.

“You think I’m the flowers-every-morning type?” he scoffed. “You think I’d brew you some cozy little soup when you’re sick? Climb into bed and cuddle your pathetic shivers away?”

You held your blanket tighter, trying to breathe.

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “Your delusions have finally hit their peak.”

“I wanted you,” he continued bluntly. “I liked the chase. The attention. The way you looked at me like I was something better than I am.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “But don’t confuse desire with devotion.”

You tried to speak, but your voice failed.

“You were a distraction - a pretty one - but that’s all.” His tone grew colder. “And if you think Tom was bad…” He leaned in until his lips nearly brushed your ear. “…you’ll see worse.”

The world tilted... whether from fever or heartbreak, you couldn't tell. Your eyes burned, but you refused to let tears fall in front of him. He didn’t deserve to see you sad. Your love. Anything.

Your voice returned in a fragile whisper. “Why… why would you say this? After everything?”

His jaw twitched. “Don’t start believing you get to ask for more,” he muttered. “Don’t start thinking you matter.”