"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice angered him and I loved it. I watched as he clenched his jaw, staring at me as his eyes darkened; walking up to me, soon towering over me making me realize how small I w...
MATTHEO RIDDLE IS YASMINE AMAROS. CALANTHA, ERISED, NICCOLÒ, DAÌNN, EPIPHANY, LANA, AND KASSANDRA ARE MINE. ALL OTHERS UNLESS MENTIONED ARE JK RO*LINGS
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T R I G G E R W A R N I N G
Swearing
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─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
T H I R T Y F O U R
MATTHEO was back. He was here, sitting beside me—next to me, at the square table. Still closer to me than to Lana. Still in the quiet corner of the darkened library, rain and snow and sleet pelting the window behind Lana's strung up shoulders. I couldn't get over how perfect her posture always was, like she walked around with strings tied to her every backbone—if she even had one. Like she was a walking puppet.
We hadn't talked to one another since yesterday. Not since the thing in the hallway.
The silence this time was far worse than the first time we'd met together here. The only time we'd met here. The anger in Lana's eyes was so evident, she needn't speak or so much as make a sound to tell all near how enraged she was.
Mattheo seemed not to notice. He was distant, painfully quiet, and had this overwhelming sadness in his eyes that just . . . made it hurt to so much as a glance his way. He was staring down at the table, his black sweater covering every inch of his chest and arms except for his neck. His curly hair was messy, his hands clasped together, hidden in his lap. Eyes quiet, mouth still, lips thin. And his face, that beautiful, solemn face—so pale and thin, like he was slowly withering away.
He'd used some kind of spell to mask something. I didn't know how I knew, nor how I came to the conclusion, but in the back of my mind, I just knew.
And, as I sat there, watching him, trying not to be obvious about my worry, it was almost as if I could hear his thoughts, feel his heartbeat right beside mine, in my own chest.
Suddenly, Lana scoffed, rolling her beautifully slanted eyes. "It's been seven minutes and still, you haven't spoken any sense of an apology. You've said nothing." she geared toward Mattheo, her thoughts eddying out of her mind.
I opened my mouth to speak, but slunk back down into my chair, waiting and watching to see what he would say. If anything.
He didn't so much as look at her.
"Are you serious? Are you serious? I—we," she stammered, her mouth wide open as she gawked at me, then turned her body toward him again. "waited for you. I sat here for forty seven minutes, and waited for you. We both did. Not so much as a word. No owl. No anything. And then Calantha," his head tilted, but he showed no sense of my being there. "Well, never mind that. It's nothing to you anyway, you weren't even here."
