Cigarettes [Mattheo Riddle]

fourteen

The room was pitch black. The only sign of life was Blaire's fragile body, like a porcelain doll, laying on her four poster bed. The sheets were usually white, but now had patches of blood on.

Blaire's father had been deployed for a short time, and had been taking out his anger on his only daughter.

Blaire lay still, staring through the darkness, as her mind raced.

Was Mattheo coming for her?

Mattheo's body rose diligently from the moth-eaten armchair he had been sitting in. He stood in the centre of a slender room, the walls hidden by bookshelves to the ceiling and a fire ablaze.
The ochre light flooded the dark room, as Mattheo stood, glancing at the bookshelves blankly. He wore nothing but black jeans.

God-like, in all his glory, he left the room - His bare feet pattering on the floor.

As he was leaving he grabbed the door frame, and sighed. He had to pull this off tomorrow- and how he was going to do it- he didn't know.

The next morning Mattheo was disturbed by Willow, whom rushed into his room in a brown nightdress, throwing anything her eyes laid themselves on at him.
Books, which Mattheo had took from the library, were hurled at him.
"What do you want?" Mattheo drawled, his voice coarse and a distant grumble. He sat up in the mess of sheets he was enveloped in.

"Theo, how could you not tell us? I didn't ever, ever-" Willow shouted, her voice thick with loath, as she continued hurling miscellanies at Mattheo's unbothered body. "-never did I imagine you would do that to Blaire!"

"Do what?" Mattheo's dark eyebrows knitted together in a frown, as his lips parted flawlessly.

"You cheated on her with Pansy! That pugfaced bitch!" Willow hollered, her voice echoing.

"Not now, Willow," Mattheo groaned, blocking her from view with his hand.

"Oh, so you deny it?" Willow taunted him, after giving up the hurling of items and resuming pacing.

"Pansy and I- never did anything. You're being childish." He rolled his eyes as he stood up carelessly and made to walk past Willow. However, Willow stuck a hand out across his hand, stopping him.

"Move your hand."
"No."
"Move."
"Not until you explain."
Mattheo rolled his eyes and massaged his temple.

"For fuck's sake. Pansy and I never did anything. I may of kissed her once, but I was drunk and in that period, Blaire was not remotely with me. We got drunk together, sure, but she was just trying-"

Willow's hand slipped down limply.

"Oh." Willow stared at the wall, zoned out, as her lips were adjacent, their plump rosiness seeming utterly beautiful to anyone but this greek god before her.
Mattheo still bored his near-black eyes into her gentle brown ones. "Can I leave now?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." 
Mattheo nodded blankly and left the room.

He traced his long fingers against the wall's mahogany panels, as his mind raced. He had never been this long without Blaire, but he would never, never succumb to pitiful grieving.