You were stood up. He’d asked you to the Yule Ball, and then he stood you up. Leaving you stood in the doorway to the great hall frozen, eyes fixed on him making out with another girl, you didn’t care for her name or who she was. You just turned around and walked. Walked till you found a quiet hallway, only the occasional ghost or student passing through. You slide down the wall, sat with your knees to your chest. Your ball gown almost mocking you.

You didn’t mean to start crying, but before you knew it the tears were streaming down your cheeks. Leaving some smudged mascara. And suddenly, you’re no longer alone. You’re acutely aware of Mattheo’s presence at the end of the hallway. His quiet footsteps approaching you. He looks put together, suit and tie. He sits down next to you on the floor, not yet speaking.

“He’s an idiot.” He murmurs looking down in his lap. Though his tone doesn’t hold his usual arrogance, or the tinge in his voice that tells you he’s making fun of you.