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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Fifteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: this chapter is literally just angst. complete freakin angst. two broken hearts that refuse to acknowledge it. pretty poetical. i know i said no love but now im not so sure.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"You're coming with me, Emily," you asserted, arms crossed over your chest, your eyes narrowing at her as she was lazily sprawled out on her bed, clearly uninterested in your predicament. "There's no way in hell I'm going alone...you can bring Michael."

Emily let out a dramatic groan, her hands instinctively flying to rub her tired eyes. "But...there's a Gryffindor party that night too...we'd much rather go to-"

"Emily!" you interrupted, advancing across the room toward her bed. You leaned against the footboard, your expression pleading. "Please, please...after everything that happened with Berkshire, I'd prefer not to go back into their bloody common room by myself...plus I don't even drink! Like I don't even know-"

"Okay, okay!" Emily hastily sat up, cutting you off as she sensed your rising panic. "Gods, you're giving me a headache...I'll talk to Michael about it..."

A sigh of relief escaped you, but the tension still clung to your shoulders like a heavy cloak. You spun around, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you as you threaded your fingers through your hair in frustration, each strand a tangible reminder of your racing thoughts.

Your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of worries. What should you wear to fit in yet not draw too much attention? How would you deflect offers of drinks without seeming rude or standoffish? And most pressing of all, how did you even find yourself entangled in this mess? The truth was, your inability to refuse others had led you down this labyrinthine path, a maze of social obligations you couldn't escape.

Emily's voice broke through the heavy silence, as delicate as the softest feathers--cautiously adjusting her tone now that she'd sensed just how stressed out you were.

"Hey, you'll be fine," she reassured, her words a gentle caress in the midst of your turmoil. "You're with Tom, he'll make sure no one bothers you, I'm positive of it."

Emily's comforting words washed over you, but beneath the surface, your thoughts spiraled into a tumultuous whirlpool. The past two weeks had been a stark contrast to the passionate chaos you'd experienced with Mattheo. Since ending things with him, your tutoring sessions had turned quiet, punctuated only by the distant echo of pages turning and the bland murmur of academic based conversations.

Although Mattheo continued to give you his full undivided attention in your sessions, the silence hung heavy between you, a reminder of the void left by your fractured connection.

And in the midst of this emotional vacuum, you found unexpected solace in Tom's company. The regular meetings continued, but they had expanded beyond the boundaries of academics. Flirting had entirely woven its way into your conversations, each playful word adding a charged tension to the air. Now, his invitation to the party on Saturday night dangled before you like a tempting, yet daunting, prospect.

However, regardless of his advances, your feelings for Tom were far from romantic. It wasn't love that stirred your heart when you thought of him, but rather a sense of obligation. The Guild, with its intricate web of social dynamics, demanded a delicate balance. To maintain your position, you felt compelled to go along with Tom's desires, to keep up the facade of mutual interest. It was a game you didn't want to play, but the stakes were too high to ignore.

As Emily's reassurances attempted to quell your anxieties, the knot of obligation tightened in your chest. The looming party represented not only a night of uncertainty but also a reluctant sacrifice to uphold your standing in the Guild. The weight of your choices pressed down on you, a reminder that sometimes, obligations could feel as suffocating as the absence of passion.

"Yeah," you responded, your voice a grumble underlined with frustration. "Talk to Michael and let me know what he says... I'm heading up to the Tower, I just need some time alone."

Emily's expression softened, sympathy flickering in her eyes. "I'll handle it," she assured you. "Take your time up there, lots of stars to count, wouldn't want to miss one because you're rushing..."

You rolled your eyes at her snark, chewing on your lip to stifle your grin. "Yeah, yeah." You said. "Thanks, Em."

With a bleak smile, you grabbed your bag and pushed out of your dorm room, mind racing as you made your way up to the tower, the castle covered in its usual blanket of darkness, given it was already past eleven pm.

You thought back to that first week of tutoring sessions after you and Mattheo had called things off, how every moment spent in his presence felt excruciating. Sitting in such close proximity to him--being forced to look into his deep, intoxicating eyes, trace the scars that adorned his skin, and fixate on those perfect lips while knowing you'd never get to be anything other than platonic was a torment for your already aching heart.

For those initial days, your mind was a battleground of conflicting emotions. Thoughts of what it had felt like to have his hands exploring your body, pulling you close against his firm frame, haunted your every waking moment. His newfound silence only served to further infuriate you, although the reasons for your frustration remained elusive--you had wanted this separation, knew you needed it more than anything, yet part of you resented how effortlessly he seemed to cast everything aside, as though it had all been a meaningless fling to him, despite the amounts of passion you'd experienced.

The internal turmoil left you in a relentless tug-of-war between contentment and bitter disappointment. With every missed touch, resentment began to coil in the pit of your stomach. Despite yearning for the way he made you feel, your chest was a maelstrom of conflicted emotions. Gratitude warred with irritation; you were thankful that your life lacked complications that could jeopardize your post-graduate career, yet infuriated that Mattheo hadn't even tried to fight for you.

It stung, the way he seemingly dismissed you as though you were just another girl, another notch on his belt, disregarding the depth of what you shared.

Or, you guessed at this point, what you thought you had shared.

As you settled into the quiet solitude of the Astronomy Tower, the vast expanse of the night sky above became your sanctuary, the stars twinkling like distant diamonds against the vast canvas of space. It was your haven, a place where you could lose yourself in the mysteries of the universe. Surrounded by your celestial charts and notebooks, you immersed yourself in your research, the quill in your hand gliding over the parchment as you recorded your observations.

In the midst of your cosmic exploration, a sudden intrusion shattered the tranquility of the Astronomy Tower. Mattheo, his presence unexpected, settled down beside you. The mere sight of him sent your pulse racing, a rapid drumbeat in your ears. You shot your head around, scanning the surroundings as though you'd forgotten where you were, your mind racing with questions. Why the fuck was he here? The unexpected encounter left you beyond shocked, your eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

"Matt-" your voice faltered, the surprise of his presence momentarily stealing your words.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, his voice carrying a weight of restlessness, as if the night sky outside held answers he desperately sought. "Don't allow me to interrupt."

He cut you off before you could regain your composure, not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction. His eyes remained fixed on the stars, his silence echoing louder than any words he could have spoken. The unspoken tension between you hung in the air, heavy and palpable, a reminder of the unresolved emotions that lingered beneath the surface.

"Um, okay." You cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice, and resolutely returned your focus to the celestial tapestry above.

The stars glittered, seemingly oblivious to the complicated tornado of emotions unfolding below. As you continued your silent analysis of the night sky, you became aware of Mattheo lighting up a cigarette. His movements were deliberate, every flicker of the lighter, every draw from the cigarette, seemed to carry a weighted significance. Despite your attempt to ignore him, you could feel his eyes on you, his gaze like a tangible presence that bore into your skin, even without direct contact. The night stretched on, the only sounds the soft crackling of burning tobacco and the occasional rustle of paper as you made notes, each moment steeped in a tense stillness, waiting for something to break the fragile equilibrium.

And then, Mattheo's voice sliced through the quiet of the night, his question hanging in the air like a challenge. "What are you even doing?"

His question caught you off guard, a shock registering in your eyes as you assumed he was merely asking to mock you. Nevertheless, you gathered your composure, your passion for your research overcoming your initial surprise.

"I'm studying how stars and planetary alignments affect magic," you explained, your words measured yet enthusiastic. "The positions of celestial bodies influence magical energies, shaping the potency of our spells. Understanding these cosmic patterns is like deciphering the universe's manual for mastering magic."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, a hint of skepticism coloring his voice. "Stars affecting magic?" he said, his tone dismissive yet laced with a sliver of intrigue. "Seems a bit far-fetched, Raven."

His words hung in the air, laced with icy indifference, yet there was an undeniable glimmer of curiosity, a flicker of interest that betrayed his cold exterior. You met Mattheo's skepticism with a determined gaze.

"It may sound far-fetched, but it's already been proven that magic is intertwined with the cosmos," you replied, your voice steady. "The alignment of stars and planets creates unique energy patterns. Understanding these patterns can give us an edge in harnessing magic. It's not about belief, it's about tapping into the natural forces of the universe..." you let your words linger for a moment, finally dropping your quill and releasing a long sigh. "Why are you always so dismissive of everything? Don't you have dreams Mattheo, don't you have passions?"

Mattheo took a slow drag off his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly before he released a plume of smoke that danced in the air, curling and twisting like ethereal tendrils. His eyes, usually guarded, met yours, holding a glimmer of something unreadable.

"Everyone dreams, Raven," he said, flatly. "But life isn't a fucking fairytale, sometimes dreams are crushed before they're born."

Your silent reaction spoke volumes as you studied his face, the way his chocolate curls framed his brooding eyes, holding countless secrets within their depths. Mattheo's words slowly dug into your shoulders, heavy with the weight of harsh truths. You released a long sigh, the reality of his words settling in, before you cautiously spoke.

"If everything was dipped in gold, it'd never grow..." you whispered, your voice soft yet resolute, as you turned your eyes back to the stars. "And not everything sweet is sugarcoated, Mattheo...sometimes life stings, and you have to fight for what you want, but that doesn't mean you toss away the wand, does it?"

For a moment, Mattheo's silence hung heavy, punctuated only by the soft exhale of smoke curling from his lips. The tendrils of fog obscured the canvas of stars, casting a mysterious veil over the night sky. When you turned to meet his gaze, you discovered his eyes already fixed on you, their depths shimmering with an enigmatic intensity.

"Even stars burn out, Raven," he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seemed to echo the somber truth of the universe. "Sometimes, there's nothing you can do but watch."

Something panged in your chest, a jolt of pain spreading through you as Mattheo's words settled into the night air. For another brief, fleeting moment, your eyes met, and there was a flicker of understanding between you. You glimpsed his lips, and he glimpsed yours, a silent exchange of unspoken sentiments.

Swiftly, you looked away, turning your attention to the moon, its silvery glow casting an ethereal light upon your face, silently gathering yourself as you fought off the heat that was swarming your cheeks.

"You know what I appreciate more than the stars?" Mattheo's voice cut through the night, a hint of intrigue in his tone as he finally shifted his gaze off of you. "The moon."

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "And why is that?"

"It's the one constant," Mattheo replied, his gaze fixed on the night sky. "Stars might fade, flicker, but the moon persists...it's just...there." His voice was calm, almost distant, as if he was lost in thought. "No drama, no shows...just silent influence--one that can pull an entire fucking ocean from shore to shore...that's a power that can't be diminished. Subtle, yet absolute."

You nodded slowly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the night. The world around you seemed to fade away as you felt your pulse increase, an unspoken tension hanging between you.

"Silent influence," you murmured, your voice thoughtful. "A power that commands without demanding, a force that shapes without shouting…I think it’s a potent reminder of strength in simplicity."

"Beauty, too," he whispered, his voice almost a caress. "A reminder of the beauty in simplicity."

The words danced around you, laden with prescribed meaning, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this conversation, something unspoken yet deeply felt. A vast silence filled the space around you, thick with a growing tension as Mattheo's eyes, intense and unreadable, locked onto yours, their depths echoing a multitude of emotions. You felt his fingers graze against yours as they were planted on the ground next to your thigh, a subtle yet electrifying touch.

At the feeling of his flesh grazing yours, even in as something as simple as this, your breath hitched, and a rush of heat surged through your body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. After two whole fucking weeks, just as you’d finally stopped moping, just as you finally felt as though you could breathe without thinking about him, it was as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you two together in this charged moment, leaving you both suspended in a space where words were unnecessary, and the raw connection between your souls spoke volumes--his hand, touching yours, this is how galaxies collide, you thought.

"It's been two weeks since you've even bothered to bloody look at me, Mattheo..." you whispered, your voice trembling like fragile autumn leaves in the wind, scared to acknowledge the reality of your situation, but knowing you needed to. "It all meant nothing to you, yeah?"

Mattheo's gaze remained unwavering, his expression stoic and seemingly emotionless as he absorbed your words. His silence spoke louder than any response he could offer, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest. The pain of his indifference cut deep, a stark contrast to the fiery passion that once consumed both of you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a restrained yet undetectable emotion. "Even if I said it didn't, would it really fucking matter, Raven?"

At his words, your heart rung, realizing that no matter how desperately you clung to the fragments of what you once shared, the reality was undeniable--the passion that once ignited between you two had flickered out, leaving only smouldering embers in its wake, and there was no reason for you to be upset over it--given that this was exactly what you fucking wanted.

Yet, with a heavy heart, you turned away, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon, searching for solace in the vast expanse of the night sky. You found yourself unprepared for the intricate complexities of your current reality--finding it amusing how your parents had dutifully cautioned you about the monsters lurking under your bed and the cruelty of schoolyard bullies, but never bothered to forewarn you about the captivating chaos that a disheveled boy with pretty eyes; ones that seemed to hold the fucking galaxies in their midst, and a demeanour infused with smoke and silver-tongued eloquence, would bring into your life.

"It would matter to me, yes." Your voice quivered as you confessed, the vulnerability in your words palpable in the night air--you kept your eyes fixed out in front of you, not daring to look at him. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, Mattheo..."

Mattheo scoffed, pulling out another cigarette, his movements deliberate yet filled with a sense of bitterness.

"You seem perfectly happy distracting yourself with my brother," he retorted, the words laced with a harsh edge.

Frustration welled up within you, your hands rising to your face as you rubbed the tension from your eyes, trying to find the right words amidst the chaos of emotions.

"Gods, you're unbelievable...that's exactly what ruined us, Mattheo," you said, your voice firm and weary. "Your constant issues with your brother, your need to control every damn thing... I just can't decipher your fucking intentions. Whatever 'us' meant, it drowned in the chaos you brought into it."

Mattheo's expression remained unreadable, a storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke calmly before he finally spoke, his words weighed down by an unspoken burden.

"Maybe some things are just meant to drown, Raven." He said, bluntly. "You and I both know that."

You met Mattheo's gaze squarely, your eyes filled with hesitation and the weight of unspoken truths--his flat dismissal of your words bothered you, sparking irritation through your veins, but you couldn't drop his prior insinuation regarding his brother--it was time you cleared that up once and for all.

"For the record," you began, your voice faltering slightly, "I don't feel anything for your brother. I never fucking did. It was never, ever about him." The confession hung heavy in the air, your heart pounding as felt as though you’d revealed a vulnerable piece of your soul. "It was always about you," you added, your voice barely above an audible whisper. "I..."

"Stop," he said, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and desperation. His body tensed, as if bracing for an impact. "Whatever you were about to say, don't say it."

Mattheo's voice came out as a sharp command, cutting through the tension like a knife through the darkness. His words lingered in the chilled night atmosphere, a heavy barrier between you, guarding his emotions like a fortress wall. Your throat tightened, constricting like a vice around your words. Each beat of your heart felt like a war drum, its thunderous rhythm drowning out any other sound.

"Why?" You hardly croaked.

"Because," Mattheo replied, his jaw clenching with the intensity of his suppressed emotions. "There are two fucking things in life you can't take back, Raven--bullets and words.“ he paused for a moment, inhaling a sharp breath. “Always make sure you hit what you aim at, and that you mean what you fucking say.”

Mattheo's words hit you like a tidal wave, crashing against the fragile walls of your resolve. The words rolled around you, creating a unstable bridge that stretched across the chasm between your bodies, threatening to collapse under the weight of suppressed emotions--and after a moment that felt like an eternity, you exhaled, accepting his now-hardened demeanour and deciding to just drop it, you switched the subject.

"I...I was just going to say...Tom invited me to the party in your common room on Saturday," you whispered, voice trembling as much as your fingers were. "I plan on going."

Mattheo's body tensed, his jaw tightening even further, as if to mask the rising anger within him. He avoided your gaze, his fists clenching involuntarily, struggling to contain the emotions surging beneath his calm exterior.

"And do you think that's a good idea?" His words sliced through the air, sharp and pointed, echoing the turmoil within him. "Have you ever attended a party here, even once?"

You shook your head, your voice barely audible as you admitted, "No, but I can't say no to him, Mattheo...I can't jeopardize my position in the guild. I've worked so hard for it, my entire educational career..." the desperation in your tone was palpable, the weight of your responsibilities bearing down on your shoulders. "It's rather maddening how quickly I transitioned from one Riddle capable of shattering my fucking future to another...it's like I can't catch a break."

The space between you and Mattheo sat heavy with unspoken words, an abyss of silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly. The soft glow of the dim light accentuated the shadows dancing across his face, emphasizing the muffled frustration etched into his features. Each puff of his cigarette punctuated the quiet, adding to the palpable tension in the air.

"I wasn’t planning on going to that," he finally replied, his voice carrying an unusual firmness, as if he was trying to convince himself too. "I quit all that shit."

Your voice caught in your throat, shock freezing your words as you tried to process his revelation.

"You-" you began, but he cut you off, his tone flat, devoid of its usual edge.

"Drinking, drugs," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of determination before he gestured towards the cigarette between his fingers. "These are next."

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of his decision. The man who had drowned himself in alcohol more times in one week than you could count on two bloody hands had fucking quit it all. It was almost impossible to believe.

"Wow," you breathed, your words laced with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. Part of you still rolled with disappointment over his absence at the upcoming event, but a flicker of hope dared to spark within you. "That's great, Mattheo...that's a huge step for you..."

Mattheo's silence hung in the air, his eyes searching your face as if seeking answers in the depths of your gaze. Time seemed to stretch, the weight of the world seemingly sitting heavy between you. With deliberate slowness, he blinked, extinguishing his cigarette on the ground beside him, never breaking eye contact.

"You're too good, Raven," he whispered, his voice surprisingly steady, resonating with a mixture of admiration and regret. "Such an angel...you should know, I was never unaware that you fucking saved me."

His words hung there, pregnant with meaning, as if he was acknowledging a debt he could never fully repay. The vulnerability in his eyes was a stark contrast to the usual stoic facade, revealing the depth of his emotions in that fleeting moment. Mattheo's gaze continued to bore into yours, his eyes intense as if he had stumbled upon something precious he couldn't bear to lose.

In a move so gentle it felt like a caress, his hand lifted to your face, his thumb tracing a feather-light path over your cheek. His voice, soft and tender, carried a weight of sincerity that resonated deep within you.

"Everything will work out..everything you've worked so fucking hard for will eventually pay off," he whispered. "I would have never deserved you."

Your stomach twisted, and your heart seemed to pound against your sternum with a deafening resonance, drowning out the world around you. You couldn’t feel your fingers or the cold or the fucking emptiness of your heart because all you could feel was him. All you could focus on was the overwhelming fucking urge to climb into his lap and kiss him until you couldn’t breathe, kiss him until the only thing embedded within the tastebuds on your tongue was his fucking taste. He is everywhere, he is everything--in every pulse of your desires and the depths of your soul, and then he whispered,

“I will be there, for you, on Saturday,” his voice was a low, husky murmur, filling you with warmth. “Just incase.”

And as he withdrew his hand from your face, the loss of his touch was like a phantom ache, a reminder of the connection you desperately fucking craved. His eyes, deep and intense, lingered on your lips for a fleeting moment, a silent testament to the desires that simmered beneath the surface. As he pulled himself up to his feet, he broke his eyes from yours, and with deliberate steps, he retreated, the distance between you growing--but just when you thought he would disappear into the night, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“And to answer your question--yes, I have dreams…” his voice, laden with a mix of vulnerability and yearning, hung in the air like a fragile promise. “But they’re only good when you’re in them.”

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