Matheo riddle

ALL OVER 18 HOGWARTS COLLEGE AU ALL FAKE PEOPLE “We still haven’t spoken,” I said softly, my voice barely carrying across the room. I was lying on my bed, staring past the canopy curtains at Mattheo. He sat at his desk with his back half-turned to me, hunched over his Herbology notes like the rest of the world had dissolved into parchment and ink. His chair creaked every so often when he shifted, and the steady scratch of his quill filled the space between us. The assignment wasn’t due for days, but the way he was working, jaw tight and shoulders tense, you’d think his entire future depended on it. It felt strange, how close we were physically and how far away everything else felt. "Maybe she's upset," he muttered, not bothering to look up. He underlined something aggressively, then crossed it out, sighing under his breath. "Yeah," | said, rolling onto my side and staring at the ceiling, "I figured that one." The eye roll that followed was more muscle memory than real irritation-something automatic, something l'd learned to do so people wouldn't ask follow-up questions. He let out a short snort. "Hey, don't get pissy at me." I glanced over at him, waiting-hoping-he might turn around, say something more, ask how I was actually feeling. Instead, he dipped his quill again and added, almost absentmindedly, "You'll be fine. You always are." The words landed like a familiar ache. There it was again. That sentence. The one people used when they didn't know what to say-or didn't want to. When emotions got too tangled, too inconvenient. Being "fine" had become my most convincing performance, and somehow everyone had bought into it. "Yeah," | muttered, my throat tightening before I could stop it. "Right." I dropped my gaze back to the book resting in my lap, though the letters swam uselessly on the page. I wasn't reading. I hadn't been for a while. I was just staring, pretending that the pressure in my chest wasn't growing.