BEAUTIFUL FLOWER | MATTHEO RIDDLE

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

MATTHEO RIDDLE IS YASMINE AMAROS. CALANTHA, NICCOLÒ, KASSANDRA, ERISED, AND EPIPHANY ARE MINE. ALL OTHERS UNLESS MENTIONED ARE JK R*WLINGS

─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

T W E N T Y  E I G H T

"WHAT are you talking about?" I whispered rather shallowly. Again, he took a step away from me, his eyes dark as though they pierced through the slits of my eyes, telling me how stupid and careless I was for bringing this on myself.

It wasn't even the confusion that was hurting me so badly, nor his revelation, but how relieved he looked after saying it. Whatever it meant, I didn't know, but I could tell it was something he'd been wanting so badly to say.

"Are you fucking stupid or are you not listening?" he croaked, his voice treacherous and angry, his eyes searching mine, his hands in fists at his sides. His shoulders were slumped and his head bowed as his bottom lip quivered, and it was so hard to look at him.

"No, I-I just," I paused, remembering that I couldn't let my weaknesses take over me again, as they usually had everytime we argued. I'd told myself to drop my act and to just react how I felt I should, but then felt weak everytime I was about to. "I just don't understand what you're saying."

"I'm saying I don't and never cared for you. You were a game to me, and that's all you were. And now I'm done with you." he clenched his jaw, his cheeks a deep red as he rapidly blinked his eyes, continuously looking away from me and at the stone wall.

All of the confidence that I'd built up over the last week was slowly beginning to crumble in only a manner of seconds, and all because of him. This was my fault, I'd angered him and brought this upon myself, but this wasn't what I was expecting to hear.

Because I really did think he cared about me.

All of that time, I tried to tell myself he was changing, that he would change, and once again, I was stupid and naïve.

And sometimes, even though it was almost rarely, the thought of love danced around in my mind whenever I was with him.

And I think, that even after he's long broken my heart, that little thought of love will still linger deep in the depths of my tired mind, the depths of my mind holding the thoughtless memories of Mattheo that I'd willed myself to never let go of.

But what was he meaning by his words? I didn't know what any of his words meant, and my mind was whirling with an countless number of loud thoughts.

"I don't understand, Mattheo," I shook my head as I began to feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. I didn't want to cry. "Mattheo, what do you mean?" my voice came out small again, almost child like.

He took a step toward me and smiled, lowering his eyes. "You were a toy to me, nothing more. I was bored and I knew someone as pathetic as you would fall if anyone simply looked your way."

I said nothing, not being able to form a sentence.

"But I guess it isn't your fault you're so vulnerable, is it?" he looked me up and down. "You really are just broken, and anyone could see through your stupid little front. Did you really think that you'd be able to just pretend you were okay for the rest of your life?"

I took a step backward and leaned against the wall, feeling like my legs were about to buckle underneath me.

"You should know you're not strong enough for that. You call me a coward, but look at yourself. At least when Thalia died I was able to redeem myself. You haven't even tried."

"Stop," I shook my head.

"No," he taunted. "This is your fault. All of it. You did this to yourself, but you won't admit that, will you? You won't admit that, just like you won't admit that your Mother's death really is your fault. You can blame me all you want, Calantha, but you're not innocent either"

My heart dropped at the sound of his words, and pain seared through my entire body. Hearing him say what I'd told myself all of these years hurt more than the weight of carrying my grief.

"Please," a loud sob left my quivering lips, my hands shaky at my sides. "Stop."

"You want me to stop, Calantha?" he nodded his head slowly, as if taunting me, and closed the space between us, leaning down beside my ear.

My chest was moving up and down as I cried,
trying not to be loud, but the tears wouldn't stop. None of the pain would go away. None of
it ever did.

"P-please," I whimpered, feeling him smile.

He placed his hands on the wall I was leaning against, and kept his lips level to my ear. "Then, just one more time," he whispered, goosebumps appearing all over my skin. "Beg for me."

Confused, with tears on my bruised cheeks, I looked up at him, stared into his eyes, and sobbed. "Please," I whispered.

He brought his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks, and glided his thumb across my tears. And I couldn't help it as I leaned into his warm hand, allowing myself to feel his hold one last time, and closed my eyes.

His forehead leaned against my own, and our breaths mixed, and he held me.

And even though I was hurting, more than I'd ever hurt before, and even though it was his words that had touched me so hurtfully, I loved him for the last time.

My eyes opened slowly as I felt a small drop land on the bridge of my nose, and I looked up to find him; his eyes shut, his cheeks a flushed pink—the same pink he'd have after coming back from a visit with his Father—his hands still holding my cheeks, the tearstained cheeks reflecting his own.

And only now had I noticed that I was no longer crying, that the tears on my cheeks belonged not to me, but to him.

─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───