The cool night air brushed against your skin as you stood on the Tower’s balcony, arms resting against the stone railing. The castle was quiet at this hour, the stars gleaming like scattered diamonds above you. It should have been peaceful, but your thoughts were anything but.

“Didn’t take you for a night owl,” a familiar voice drawled behind you.

You turned sharply. Mattheo leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his dark eyes unreadable. The same Mattheo who had spent years making your life a nightmare—mocking you in the halls, challenging you at every turn, as if his sole purpose was to rile you up.

“What do you want, Mattheo?” you sighed, bracing yourself for whatever teasing remark was about to come.

But he didn’t smirk. He didn’t laugh. He stepped forward, the usual arrogance absent from his expression. His fingers raked through his messy curls, a nervous gesture you weren’t used to seeing.

“I—” He hesitated. Mattheo. Hesitating.

You narrowed your eyes. “Spit it out, Mattheo.”

He exhaled sharply, then, before you could react, he stepped even closer. Close enough that you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his usually confident gaze.

“I love you.”

It was so quiet, so raw, that for a moment, you thought you imagined it.

Your breath caught in your throat. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “And it’s driving me insane.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Last year, you couldn’t stand me.”

“I know,” he admitted. “I spent years convincing myself I hated you, but I was wrong.” He let out a soft, almost frustrated laugh. “I don’t think I ever hated you. I think I was just too damn scared to admit what I really felt.”

Silence stretched between you, filled only by the wind and the distant sounds of the castle below.

“Say something,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as if he was bracing himself for rejection.

And for the first time, you saw Mattheo not as the reckless, arrogant boy you had battled for years, but as someone vulnerable.