Matheo riddle

Mattheo wasn’t sure when it started.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

It slithered into his bones this —this need to see you. His quill hovered over half-finished essays,his mind replayed the way your translucent fingers had brushed his wrist before you left. His Occlumency shields, usually impeccable, frayed at the edges due to the lack of sleep. Even Theodore had noticed, raising a brow when Mattheo started acting this way , too busy staring at the shadowed corner of where you sometimes materialized.

Pathetic, he thought.

But then again, when had logic ever governed obsession?

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

You were just another ghost poor girl dumped into the black lake. You dont come out often only at night. Only to see him. Youd only show at night Yet Mattheo, heir to the Dark Lord’s legacy, found himself charting your movements like a starved man tracking constellations.

Every detail hooked deeper into his ribs. It’s gone to a point where he needs to see you.and wont let anything stop him.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Tonight, his dorm was quiet. Theodore’s bed lay empty (off with Greengrass, no doubt), leaving Mattheo alone with the shadows and the waiting.

He didn’t bother pretending to sleep.

Back against his headboard, he watched the space between his bed and the window—*your* space. The cold bit through his shirt, but he welcomed it itching for your return.