Living Out My Twilight Whore Dreams

Sunday, 20:53 Y/N: revision night. you revising?

Mattheo: I don’t need to.

Y/N: ok, genius. care to tutor your humble potions partner?

Mattheo: I doubt you’re humble about anything.

Y/N: fair. but I’m charming, which is basically the same thing.

Mattheo: Debatable.

Y/N: admit it, you’d miss me if I stopped texting.

Mattheo: You think highly of yourself.

Y/N: I do. it’s part of my charm.

No reply. I threw a pillow at the wall. “Stone-hearted snake,” I muttered, even as my phone buzzed again a moment later.

Mattheo: Don’t fail tomorrow. I don’t partner with idiots.

Y/N: wow, so encouraging. I’ll try not to let my idiocy shine through.

Mattheo: Good.

I was fairly sure that was his version of affection.

Weeks passed like that. Teasing, pushing, small exchanges that grew longer, warmer. He started initiating sometimes usually with something snide, but it counted.

Thursday, 22:15 Mattheo: Slughorn asked if we’re dating.

Y/N: what did you say?

Mattheo: That I’d rather be poisoned.

Y/N: how romantic.

Mattheo: I try.

Y/N: careful, Riddle, that almost sounded like flirting.

Mattheo: Don’t get used to it.

Y/N: too late. screenshotting this moment in my heart.

He sent a single eye-roll emoji. Progress.

Then came that night.

Saturday, 23:41 Y/N: hiiiiiiiiiii

Mattheo: Black?

Y/N: yeah. that’s me. black by name, gryffindor by chaos.

Mattheo: Are you drunk?

Y/N: noooooo. maybe. little bit. not drunk just… hydrating. with firewhisky.

Mattheo: Brilliant. Where are you?

Y/N: at the party. common room’s a riot. i danced with a lampshade. she was lovely.

Mattheo: You shouldn’t be texting me.

Y/N: why?

Mattheo: Because you’ll regret it when you’re sober.

Y/N: doubtful. i like talking to you. you pretend to hate it but you like me.

Mattheo: You’re delusional.

Y/N: tell me i’m wrong.

He didn’t reply for a while. I stared at the phone, blinking through the haze. Then it buzzed.

Mattheo: Go get some water.

Y/N: yes sir.

Mattheo: Don’t call me sir either.

Y/N: fine, my lord.

Mattheo: Y/N.

Y/N: what.

Mattheo: Are you alone?

Y/N: ummm not exactly. people everywhere.

Mattheo: I mean, are you safe?

Y/N: course i am.

Mattheo: I don’t believe you.

Y/N: you worrying about me, Riddle?

Mattheo: Someone has to.

I frowned at the message. That didn’t sound like his usual smug tone. I was about to type something teasing when a hand landed on my shoulder.

Some drunk older Slytherin who’d crashed the Gryffindor party Cavan, I think...leaned too close. I could smell the mead on his breath.

“Come dance.”

I tried to laugh him off, stepping back, but he followed.

My phone buzzed again.

Mattheo: Y/N?

Y/N: yeah. fine.

Mattheo: You don’t sound fine.

Y/N: i’m okay just some guy being weird.

Mattheo: Name.

Y/N: doesn’t matter.

Mattheo: Name.

I hesitated, then typed:

Y/N: Cavan something. tall, dumb, thinks he’s gods gift.

Three dots blinked. Then...

Mattheo: Where are you exactly?

Y/N: common room but i’ll just go upstairs. i’m fine, really.

Mattheo: Stay where you are.

Y/N: no need to make a big deal

He called me. I stared at the screen, heart racing. Then picked up.

“Mattheo?”

“Where are you?” His voice was low, sharp, like a blade drawn quietly.

“By the couch wait, how do you even plan to...”

“I’m on my way.”

“What? You’re coming here? you lunatic!”

He hung up.

Ten minutes later, while I was trying to convince Cavan to get out of my space, the portrait hole swung open.

Mattheo Riddle, looking very out of place in Gryffindor red light and drunken noise, stormed in. Heads turned. Conversations stopped.

He didn’t care. He went straight to me, grabbed my wrist gently but firmly, and glared at Cavan.

“She said no.”

Cavan muttered something about minding his own business.

“Try me,” Mattheo said, eyes cold.

Cavan backed off. Everyone pretended not to stare as Mattheo guided me out of the room, hand at the small of my back.

He didn’t speak until we reached the corridor.

“What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I mumbled. “I was drinking.”

“Clearly.”

“Why’d you come?”

“You texted me.”

“I texted you loads before. You never came running then.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “That was different.”

“How?”

He exhaled sharply. “Because this time, you sounded scared.”

My heart stuttered. I didn’t know what to say. He looked furious but not at me. Protective fury. The kind that made your stomach twist in strange ways.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

“You’re not,” he said quietly. “You think being Sirius Black’s daughter makes you untouchable. It doesn’t.”

“Yeah? And being Voldemort’s son makes you what, exactly?”

He flinched. The words hung heavy in the air.

“I didn’t mean...”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I...Mattheo, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Go to bed, Y/N.”

He walked away before I could answer.

The next morning, my head was pounding. I dragged myself to Potions, dreading seeing him.

He was already there, sitting at our table, arms folded.

“Morning,” I said cautiously.

He looked up. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, I feel the love.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. You worry too much.”

He sighed. “Don’t do that again.”

I leaned on the table, smirking. “Don’t what? Go to parties? Or text you when I’m drunk?”

“Both.”

“But if I hadn’t, Cavan might’ve...”

“I know.” His jaw clenched. “That’s why you don’t do it again.”

“Because you care,” I teased.

He didn’t rise to it. Just stared at the cauldron, the muscles in his jaw working.

“Mattheo,” I said softly. “You do care.”

He glanced at me, eyes tired but warm in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Of course I do, you idiot.”

That shut me up.

He smirked faintly. “Finally, silence.”

I laughed. “Don’t get used to it.”

He looked at me then, properly, and for the first time, his smile wasn’t cruel or guarded. It was small. Real.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured.

Later that night, 21:17 Y/N: so i’m your favourite idiot then?

Mattheo: Don’t push it.

Y/N: come on, you care. you admitted it.

Mattheo: Temporary lapse in judgement.

Y/N: liar.

Mattheo: Go to sleep, Black.

Y/N: you first, dark prince.

Mattheo: Still not funny.

Y/N: still adorable when you pretend you don’t like me.

Mattheo: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, Mattheo.

Monday, 16:35 Mattheo: Slughorn paired us again for the new project.

Y/N: he knows chemistry when he sees it ;)

Mattheo: I’ll poison you.

Y/N: kinky.

Mattheo: You’re insufferable.

Y/N: you love it.

Three dots blinked, stopped, blinked again.

Mattheo: Maybe I do.

I stared at the message for a long time, heartbeat echoing in my ears. Then I smiled, typing back with shaking fingers.

Y/N: finally, some honesty. took you long enough.

Mattheo: Don’t make me regret it.

Y/N: too late. you’re stuck with me now.

Mattheo: Merlin help me.

Y/N: he won’t. he ships it.

I tossed my phone aside and fell back on my bed, grinning so wide it hurt.

Mattheo Riddle. The boy who’d built walls higher than Hogwarts itself. And somehow, I’d found the door.

Friday, 22:04 Y/N: what are you doing?

Mattheo: Reading.

Y/N: boring.

Mattheo: Peaceful.

Y/N: wanna come to the tower? not a party, just… stars and stuff.

Mattheo: You mean stargazing?

Y/N: yeah. I’ll bring snacks.

He took a while to respond. Long enough that I assumed he wasn’t coming.

Then...

Mattheo: Ten minutes.

Y/N: knew you couldn’t resist me.

Mattheo: Shut up.

Y/N: can’t. too busy falling for you.

Mattheo: …you’re impossible.

Y/N: and yet you’re still coming.

Ten minutes later, he was there. No phone needed. Just him, quiet under the stars, sitting beside me.

We didn’t talk much that night. Didn’t need to. His hand brushed mine once, then stayed there.

I looked over at him, his face silvered in moonlight.

“See,” I whispered. “Told you you’d like me eventually.”

He smirked. “I never said I didn’t.”

And that was that. No grand declaration, no dramatic confession. Just his hand in mine, warm and steady, like a promise.

Sunday, 10:12 Y/N: morning, riddle. still thinking about our late-night astronomy lesson?

Mattheo: You mean when you fell asleep halfway through my explanation of the Andromeda constellation?

Y/N: correction: fell asleep on your shoulder.

Mattheo: My shoulder still hurts.

Y/N: liar. you loved it.

Mattheo: Maybe I did.

Y/N: careful, Riddle. keep being soft and people will talk.

Mattheo: Let them.

I grinned at the screen, cheeks warm. Who knew the dark prince had a heart after all?

It had been weeks since the stargazing night, and everything between us had… shifted. He still pretended to be stoic, still rolled his eyes at my jokes, but he smiled more now. Proper smiles. The kind that crept up on him before he could stop them.

We still hadn’t put a label on whatever this was, but there was an unspoken understanding between us. He’d wait for me outside class, I’d save him a seat in Potions. If anyone made a snide remark about his family name, I’d glare daggers until they shut up. And if someone so much as looked at me the wrong way, Mattheo’s stare alone would do the job.

Wednesday, 19:02 Y/N: you know you have a resting murder face right?

Mattheo: Excuse me?

Y/N: today in class that Hufflepuff boy asked to borrow my quill and you looked ready to hex him into another dimension.

Mattheo: He was staring at you.

Y/N: that’s what people do when they’re talking, riddle.

Mattheo: He was staring too long.

Y/N: possessive much?

Mattheo: Cautious.

Y/N: protective, you mean. admit it.

Mattheo: …Maybe.

Y/N: Merlin, look at you catching feelings.

Mattheo: Don’t push it, Black.

Y/N: too late. i live to push it.

He’d grown softer in little ways. Bringing me tea when I was late to breakfast. Pretending to grumble when I dragged him out for walks by the lake. But then, there were moments when that cold, dangerous Riddle edge came back and it was always when someone else hovered too close.

I’d been sitting in the library, revising, when a Slytherin boy named Callum leaned over the back of my chair.

“Black,” he said smoothly, “Yule Ball date is being announced soon. You got a date?”

I snorted. “Planning to take pity on me, are you?”

“Thinking about it,” he said with a grin. “Could be fun.”

Before I could reply, a shadow fell across us.

“Find someone else, Callum.”

Mattheo. He stood behind me, arms folded, jaw set.

Callum raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t realise she was taken.”

“She’s not,” Mattheo said evenly. “But she’s not interested either.”

Callum smirked. “How do you know?”

“Because I said so.”

I rolled my eyes and tugged on Mattheo’s sleeve. “Down, boy.”

He shot me a glare, but Callum got the message and left.

Once he was gone, I whispered, “You can’t just threaten every boy who talks to me.”

“I didn’t threaten him.”

“You said, because I said so. That’s basically a threat.”

He looked away. “He shouldn’t assume things.”

I crossed my arms, teasing. “What things? That I might go with someone who isn’t you?”

He stiffened. “Exactly.”

I smiled softly. “You do realise you sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m not a Black.”

He glared, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you like me anyway.”

He didn’t deny it this time.

Sunday, 08:01 Mattheo: Don’t forget your scarf today.

Y/N: wow, good morning to you too mum.

Mattheo: It’s snowing.

Y/N: you could just say “stay warm” like a normal person.

Mattheo: Stay warm.

Y/N: thank you, my sweet caring boyfriend.

Mattheo: Not your boyfriend.

Y/N: oh? tell that to everyone who’s seen you glowering at anyone within ten feet of me.

Mattheo: That’s crowd control.

Y/N: sure, Riddle. whatever helps you sleep at night.

Mattheo: You’re lucky you’re cute.

Y/N: finally he admits it.

Mattheo: Don’t let it get to your head.

A few nights later, I was curled up in bed, reading, when my phone buzzed.

Mattheo: Are you in the tower?

Y/N: yeah why?

Mattheo: Heard there’s going to be a snowstorm. Stay inside tonight.

Y/N: you’re like a weather prophet.

Mattheo: Just stay inside.

Y/N: are you secretly the ministry’s storm informant?

Mattheo: Y/N.

Y/N: fine, fine. i’ll stay in.

Mattheo: Good.

Y/N: you really do worry too much.

Mattheo: Only about you.

My heart did an embarrassing little somersault.

Y/N: careful, Riddle. if you keep saying things like that, i might start believing you have feelings.

Mattheo: Maybe I do.

Y/N: oh merlin, stop being so soft, i can’t handle it.

Mattheo: Go to sleep.

Y/N: goodnight, my broody guardian angel.

Mattheo: You’re impossible.

We fell into a rhythm. Witty texts, late-night walks, him pretending to be annoyed while making sure I ate breakfast, me pretending not to notice how his hand always brushed mine in the corridor.

We were something. Not quite a couple. Not quite just friends. Something in between - messy, magnetic, unspoken.

Then came the Yule Ball date announcement.

It was all anyone could talk about. Dresses, dates, decorations. Mattheo, predictably, acted as if he couldn’t care less.

Until I decided to tease him.

Wednesday, 17:30 Y/N: guess who got asked to the Yule Ball ;)

Mattheo: Who asked you?

Y/N: ooo straight to the point. jealous much?

Mattheo: Who.

Y/N: why, planning to hex him?

Mattheo: Possibly.

Y/N: relax, dark prince. it’s just Callum.

Mattheo: The same Callum I told to stay away from you?

Y/N: the very one.

Mattheo: And you said yes?

Y/N: well you didn’t ask me first, did you?

Mattheo: That’s not the point.

Y/N: actually, it kind of is.

Three dots blinked on and off for ages before his next message came through.

Mattheo: You shouldn’t have said yes.

Y/N: why not? you didn’t exactly stake a claim.

Mattheo: Because he doesn’t deserve to take you.

Y/N: and you do?

Mattheo: Yes.

I blinked at my screen, my heart racing.

Y/N: then why didn’t you ask me, idiot?

No reply.

I threw my phone onto my bed, groaning. The boy could be a genius in Potions but an utter disaster with emotions.

The next morning, he was waiting outside the Great Hall. Leaning against the wall, arms folded, hair slightly mussed.

I stopped in front of him. “Are you planning to scowl me into submission?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “Did you mean what you said?”

“About what?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“That I should’ve asked you.”

I smirked. “Of course I meant it. What, you thought I wanted to go with Callum for his riveting personality?”

He looked down, jaw tight. “Then don’t go with him.”

“Mattheo.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His voice was low, tense. “He’s not..he’ll try something, and I’ll end up hexing him.”

“You can’t fight everyone who looks at me, you know.”

“I can try.”

I sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

He met my eyes then, and all the sharp edges in his face softened. “Maybe. But I’m yours anyway.”

The words hung between us, fragile and heavy all at once.

“You can’t say things like that and expect me not to melt,” I said quietly.

He smiled faintly. “Then don’t melt. Just say you’ll go with me.”

I folded my arms, pretending to think. “Hmm. I don’t know. You did kind of blow your chance the first time.”

He took a step closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Begging would be a good start,” I teased, though my heart was thundering.

He smirked. “Fine. Please, Y/N Black, go to the Yule Ball with me before I lose my mind.”

I grinned. “There it is. Knew you had it in you.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes. But you owe me a dance for every day you made me wait.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you like me anyway.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I really do.”

Later that night, 22:16 Y/N: so i officially dumped callum.

Mattheo: Good.

Y/N: you’re not even going to pretend you feel bad for him?

Mattheo: No.

Y/N: savage.

Mattheo: He shouldn’t have asked you in the first place.

Y/N: you really are jealous, aren’t you?

Mattheo: Maybe.

Y/N: it’s weirdly hot.

Mattheo: Stop.

Y/N: can’t. i thrive on your emotional discomfort.

Mattheo: One of these days, Black, you’re going to drive me mad.

Y/N: already have. that’s why you asked me to the ball ;)

Mattheo: You’re lucky I like you.

Y/N: correction: you adore me.

Mattheo: Debatable.

Y/N: liar. see you tomorrow, dark prince.

Mattheo: Sweet dreams, trouble.

When the night of the Yule Ball arrived, he was waiting at the bottom of the stairs in a black suit that fit too well for my sanity.

He looked up as I descended, his usual sarcasm replaced by something else - something soft, awed.

“Wow,” he murmured.

“Careful, Riddle,” I teased. “You’re dangerously close to a compliment.”

He smirked. “You look beautiful.”

“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”

He offered his arm. “Ready, trouble?”

“Always.”

We danced. And for the first time, he wasn’t brooding or guarded he laughed, properly laughed, head tilted back as I spun too fast and nearly fell into him.

At some point during the night, his fingers brushed mine, then stayed there.

“You know,” I said softly, “for someone who doesn’t do labels, you’re very good at acting like a boyfriend.”

He smiled down at me. “And you’re very good at acting like you don’t love it.”

Touché.

Sunday, 11:27 Y/N: last night was perfect. even though you almost tripped over your own feet.

Mattheo: I was distracted.

Y/N: by what?

Mattheo: You.

Y/N: smooth.

Mattheo: I try.

Y/N: don’t let it go to your head.

Mattheo: Too late.

Y/N: so… what are we then?

He didn’t answer straight away. I watched the dots blink on and off, my stomach twisting.

Finally...

Mattheo: Whatever we are, I don’t want it to end.

Y/N: good answer, Riddle.

Mattheo: Now stop overthinking.

Y/N: fine. but only because you looked stupidly good last night.

Mattheo: You looked better.

Y/N: okay, who kidnapped Mattheo Riddle and replaced him with this flirt?

Mattheo: Maybe he finally stopped pretending.

Y/N: i like this version.

Mattheo: So do I.

And that was it. No label. No definition. Just us bickering, laughing, learning each other’s edges and soft spots.

Mattheo Riddle: the boy who swore he didn’t care. And me: the girl who made him admit that he did.

Mattheo: Can’t meet tonight. Father’s got me doing something.

Y/N: “Doing something” sounds ominous. You robbing Gringotts or just terrorising first-years again?

Mattheo: Ha. Something like that.

Y/N:Be careful, yeah?

Mattheo: Always am.

Except he wasn’t.

At first, I told myself it was fine. That he was just busy. That whatever dark tangle his family had him in, it would pass. But as the weeks went by, the messages grew shorter, his replies later, his tone distant.

He stopped sitting next to me in Potions. He stopped waiting outside the Great Hall. He stopped… showing up.

And I hated that I noticed.

Days turned to weeks, and my phone stayed stubbornly silent except for the occasional one-word reply that felt like a ghost of the boy I’d grown to know. I told myself not to care. That we weren’t official, that I had no real claim. But Merlin, try telling that to the ache in my chest every time I saw him laughing with his friends, pretending like nothing had changed.

I’d catch his eyes across the corridor sometimes, and for a split second, I’d swear I saw it that flicker of softness, of guilt. But then it would vanish, swallowed by that cold mask he wore so well.

So I laughed louder. Flirted harder. Pretended I didn’t care.

If he could disappear, then so could I.

“Oi, Y/N, you coming to the courtyard?” Blaise called, leaning against the doorframe. “Everyone’s out there apparently, someone bet Theo he couldn’t charm a broom to hover upside down.”

I smiled. “Is that before or after he concusses himself?”

“Jury’s out.”

I followed him, forcing the bounce in my step that had become my daily act. Out in the courtyard, laughter echoed, the autumn sun spilling across the cobblestones. I joined Pansy, who grinned wickedly.

“You’ve been getting quite a bit of attention lately,” she said, sipping from her pumpkin juice. “Flint’s been staring at you for ten minutes straight.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s staring at my sandwich, not me.”

But she wasn’t wrong. People had started to notice. With Mattheo gone, there was no invisible barrier keeping anyone away. I’d spent months being “his” without the label, without the protection of definition and now, apparently, I was fair game again.

Y/N: You alive? Haven’t seen you in forever.

Mattheo: Busy.

Y/N:Wow. The charm is dazzling tonight.

Mattheo: You don’t understand.

Y/N: Then help me. Make me understand.

Mattheo: I can’t.

That one hurt.

I stared at the screen until the words blurred, then typed something sarcastic...something flippant and deleted it before I sent it. What was the point?

I wasn’t going to beg for attention from someone who used to give it so freely.

It was late - curfew long gone when I found myself wandering toward the Astronomy Tower. The night air bit at my skin, but I liked it; it made me feel alive when everything else had gone numb.

I sat on the stone ledge, staring at the stars.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” a voice said behind me.

I turned not Mattheo. Crispin Flint. The boy Pansy had teased me about. Tall, broad, handsome in that arrogant sort of way.

“Careful,” I said lightly. “You’ll ruin your bad-boy reputation if people catch you stargazing.”

He smirked, sitting beside me. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

We talked. He flirted. I flirted back - a little too easily, maybe.

Because it was easier than thinking about the one person who wasn’t here.

The next morning, I didn’t even notice Mattheo until he slammed his fists down on my table.

“Well, look who decided to remember I exist,” I said, forcing a smile. “Should I roll out a red carpet?”

He ignored the jab. “What’s going on with you and Flint?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped, voice low but sharp. “You were out with him last night.”

“You mean I was out existing? Sorry, didn’t realise I needed to file for your approval.”

“You don’t need my approval,” he said, eyes narrowing, “but you don’t need to be so bloody attention-seeking either.”

That one landed like a slap.

I froze, every bit of humour I’d armed myself with turning to ash in my throat.

“Attention-seeking?” I repeated softly. “That’s rich, coming from someone who couldn’t even be bothered to look at me for two months.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “You don’t understand what’s been happening...”

“Because you won’t tell me!” The words burst out before I could stop them. “You just… shut me out. No explanation. No goodbye. You made me feel like I’d done something wrong.”

His eyes flicked up, guilt flashing there. “You didn’t. You never did.”

“Then why?” I asked, voice cracking. “Why did you pull away? I tried to be patient, Mattheo, I did. I told myself you’d come back when you were ready. But watching you act like I didn’t matter...”

I broke off, swallowing hard. My stupid voice was shaking.

He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “My father’s been… tightening his grip. There are things I can’t ignore anymore. Things he’s making me do. I thought if I distanced myself, I’d protect you.”

I laughed bitter and wet. “Oh, brilliant. Because nothing says protection like breaking someone’s heart from a distance.”

He looked pained. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why does it feel like you have?”

We stared at each other, the silence so thick it almost hummed. Around us, the Great Hall buzzed on laughter, clinking cutlery but it felt a million miles away.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. You make everything… lighter. I didn’t think I deserved that. I still don’t.”

“Then maybe stop trying to deserve it and just let yourself have it,” I said, my voice trembling but steady. “Because I’m right here, Mattheo. I’ve been here.”

He reached across the table, fingers brushing mine.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured. “I can’t.”

“Then fight for me.”

Something in his expression cracked all the walls, all the guilt, all the darkness.

He stood, tugging me gently up with him. “Come with me.”

He led me out of the Great Hall, down the corridors, into the quiet of the dungeons. We stopped outside the Slytherin common room, and before I could ask, he turned to face me eyes wild and desperate.

“I’m done hiding,” he said. “Done pretending you don’t mean everything to me. I want this... you. All of it. Officially. If you’ll still have me.”

For a second, I just stared torn between relief and disbelief.

“Are you sure?” I whispered. “Because if you disappear again...”

“I won’t,” he cut in. “Not unless you tell me to.”

I smiled a small, broken thing and stepped closer, resting a hand against his chest.

“You’re an idiot,” I said softly.

“I know.”

And then he kissed me fierce, apologetic, real. All the words we hadn’t said pressed into the space between us.

When we broke apart, his forehead stayed against mine.

“Girlfriend,” he whispered. “That’s what you are now. Mine.”

“Finally,” I breathed. “Took you long enough.”

He laughed, that rare, genuine sound that made everything inside me feel warm again.

But even as I smiled, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered what happens when his darkness comes knocking again?

For now, though, I let it go.

Because for the first time in weeks, he was here. And so was I.

Mattheo: You asleep?

Y/N: Maybe. Why?

Mattheo: Just wanted to say goodnight to my girlfriend.

Y/N:Oh, that’s what I am now? Thought I was too attention-seeking.

Mattheo: I’m never living that down, am I?

Y/N: Not a chance.

Mattheo: Fair. You still love me, though.

Y/N:Unfortunately, yes.

Mattheo: Good. Because I love you too.