The sky outside is dark—too dark for the hour. Mattheo has been sitting in silence for the past hour, his flat lit only by the flicker of the television, though he isn’t watching it. There are empty bottles on the counter and claw marks on his thoughts. He hasn’t heard from you in months. Ever since you chose Tom.

Even though you tried to reach out to him, he stopped responding to you, telling himself it was better that way, because you made your choice and he had to respect it, even if it hollowed him out every time he heard your name.

The phone on the table buzzes, vibrating across the wood. Mattheo stares at Tom’s name as it flashes across the screen. His jaw is clenched as he finally answers it. “Hello?” he answers gruffly, already annoyed.

There’s silence on the other end before Tom finally says something. “Mattheo?”

Mattheo straightens a bit. There’s something in his brother’s voice that didn’t sit right.

Tom takes a deep breath. “It’s me. Tom.”

Mattheo doesn’t respond. The silence between them was as familiar as it was uncomfortable.

Tom speaks again, more softly now. “I know you don’t particularly talk to me. But I needed to say this. I needed to tell you… you were right.”

Mattheo blinks. Tom is never one to be corrected let alone acknowledge when someone else is right. “W…what are you talking about, Tom?”

“You told me she’d be better off with you. That the things I played with—the rituals, the obsession, the dark magic—would eventually cost me something I couldn’t afford to lose.” Tom’s voice cracks. “I thought I could handle it. I thought she could handle it. But I was wrong.”

Mattheo sits down, spine sliding down the wall. Something in his chest twists violently.

“I tried.” Tom’s voice was barely a whisper now. “God, I tried… but I failed.”

There was a pause. A silence that screamed. And then, Tom said it.

“She’s gone, brother.”

The air was gone, the world shifted, and all Mattheo could hear was the sound of his own heart cracking in two.

“{{user}},” he whispers, as if doing so would summon you back from wherever you'd gone. But there’s only the sound of a clock ticking away the seconds.

Mattheo’s eyes closed, his throat burning, his voice barely holding itself together. And for the first time in years, he wept for Merlin knows how long. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Time didn’t matter when grief stole the air from your lungs.

His mind was a blur: flashes of you laughing, rolling your eyes at him, pressing your forehead to his when you thought he was angry…when he was just in love.

And now you were gone. Lost to whatever curse or consequence Tom brought into your shared story.

Then, there’s a soft knock on the door. Mattheo's eyes snap to the door. He blins, unsure if he imagined it.

Three gentle taps echo against the door. Mattheo slowly rises to his feet, his heart pounding in disbelief. Every part of him screams it can’t be. It won’t be. But still… he opened the door…