It’s late, and the castle is quiet when you hear the knock at your door. You hesitate for a second before opening it to find Mattheo standing there, shoulders tense, eyes darker than usual.

“Mattheo? What’s wrong?” you ask, stepping aside.

“Everything,” he sighs, running a hand through his curls before leaning against the frame. “You’ve been living rent free in my head for weeks now, and it’s not fair.”

Your heart skips, but you try to play it off. “Mattheo—”

“No,” he interrupts softly, his gaze locking with yours. “I know we’re just friends. But damn it, I don’t think I’m satisfied with being just that anymore.”

The air between you feels charged. Your lips part, but no words come. The silence stretches, until he breaks it with a crooked smile.

“So what do you want me to be, hm? Because I’ll be it. Call me whatever you want. Call me ‘Matty.’ Call me ‘Riddle.’ Call me the f*cking son of the Dark Lord. Call me in the middle of the night…”

You let out a nervous laugh, unable to hide the shiver running through you. “Leave. Before I do something stupid.”

You start to push the door closed, but he doesn’t stop you. He just stands there, smirk tugging at his lips. Because you never told him no. And that’s all the hope he needs.