All Over Her

Chapter 36: Should I Stay or Should I Go

It always becomes ever so clear to me that I can never just ignore Mattheo. Even before this year I never had the gumption to just expel him from my consciousness. That is exactly the problem. I can't forget a single thing he did, or a single thing I want him to do. I felt horrible. Horrible that I could want him, want to strive for any ounce of change in him, but want to never see him again. I hate him with every fiber of my being but simultaneously feel something just as passionate.

"CAS PLEASE WAIT."

He runs up to me, grabbing my hand.

We've been through this before. I'll turn swiftly, swiping my hand away from him and looking longingly into his eyes. Desiring something that I can never have and should never want. But this time it's different. Because I turn to him, gently. I don't want him to let go of my hand. I still look at him deeply, but now I know I have him. I'm completely aware that I do because the person I'm looking at is different. That ounce of change I've been desiring seemed to multiply into pounds upon pounds right at this very moment. For a second my anger fades, I just want to kiss him. Kiss whoever this is right now. Wish that it's not actually Mattheo and just some cruel look alike.

"I can't change the past. I know that. But give me a chance." He holds tighter.

Not tight to where he's squeezing me, holding me captive. But he's talking to me. He wants me to know that he wants me to stay with him. He wants it to be my choice. I stay silent.

"I've been terrible to you. For so long. I've been malicious and cruel. At times when you never deserved it. I'm aware of it all. I just wanted this one night, and I apologize profusely that I didn't make it as comfortable for you as I should have and I recognize my ignorance fully."

This wasn't Mattheo. This couldn't be. I know that it's unreasonable for me to continue to make judgments on his actions from when he was twelve years old and on. I know I shouldn't hold a grudge. I know I shouldn't wish he's not himself. I can never tell him that. I can't ever admit it. And in the spurts of time that I fight back I have been just as cruel, if not worse. He won't admit that.

"Why now?" I say simply.

He takes my other hand. "I hated you. For so long. So deeply."

"Wow thank you-"

He smiles, "Let me finish... But then I saw you. When you walked into potions I felt all this pent up rage I always have. But the way you carried yourself, the way you snapped back at me. As hurtful as it was, no one else does it. I liked that little game we played. I liked that you got me angry... that you got me to feel something."

I was confused for sure.

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, Mattheo."

He cups my face in his hands, "I have never felt passion. Never felt admiration. Never felt..."
I held my breath for a second. He wanted to say something.

"Strong... feelings. That just wasn't meant to be in my life. The only thing I did know was hatred. You know who my dad was. And as much as I don't want to get into it I will say my mother was consumed by it just the same. So I thought that was how I was supposed to feel. But I realized, when you looked at me, I don't hate you. I envied you, yes. But not hate. Not anymore."

His gaze softened. Any anger I felt dispelled from my body. I never thought anyone could hold so much desire for me. Could carry unscrupulous levels of desire despite their environment. I accepted his apology. And while it doesn't erase the emotional turmoil of the past, it leaves space for a potential future.

I traced my hand up his arm, ending at the hand holding my left cheek. "When did you mature in the last hour?"

He smiled, not a smirk or a mischievous toothy grin. But a smile. He held my hand all the way back to the little sanctuary. He brought out the food once again, I had almost forgotten we had spaghetti. After we finished, he layed out the blanket to be much larger, adjusting pillows to be at head height. As we laid, he pulled his wand out. He whispers quietly to it, whipping it around in a circle as a small ball of light escapes from the end.

It danced from vine to vine, the purple flowers blooming then disappearing into thin air again. We watched, and watched, and watched. It felt like hours. Watching them grow, and vanish. Repeating the cycle again and again. And again. And again. Feeling endless. Which can be such an amazing feeling, but a dreaded one as well.