𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 - Mattheo Riddle ˖°

Enemies to Lovers

⋆˚˙✧˖° ⋆˙✧

"𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄...? Remember? We were together in law school. I thought I had met the smartest man in the world."

Mattheo’s mind rattled his usual sarcastic come back to how they both forgot about how great their friendship together was back in college.

Actually, that was a lie, Mattheo doubted it since she never really shut her big fucking mouth while they were so-called 'together'. It wasn't like he hadn't read the book she published, he did, hoping that she wasn’t as bad at what she loved.

And unfortunately, she was, in fact,  advocating for what they called equality. Not in the "we should band together and fight for our rights as women" but the "men are megalomaniacs and the fact that women haven't opened their eyes and surpassed them just yet shows that we are lied to".

And all that with her stuck-up, big-city lawyer pencils and her damn tiny, black tube skirts with jackets to boss everyone around even further and making every inch of him hate every time he got to see her. And no, he didn't love to hate her. He actually just hated her. He'd hated the fact that even when he whipped up a home run and got plans, she was the one thing that he thought of.

And she would call that romantic.

He would call that energy he would need to burn off, and he gave a push on his bike and shovelled it to Hogsmede late that thursday evening.

Somehow the train was insane, as Mattheo thought that the whole state went nuts to get to Draco and he was sitting practically with the whole train on his lap, half people falling onto him for motion with the train and half trying to get his room, that didn’t exist.

He had had way rougher train rides before, comfier even, but as he looked at the digital ticket in his bag, every time brushing off the running ink that would stick to his fingers and make his girlfriend go ballistic, every time with a dark winced-face as you would flip a burger boys excluding the Mum's has given upon, as well as your own brother figure, he couldn't help to vividly replay how all that had started.

Fucking bitch, yeah she was a fucking big time bitch. But one that would make him forget about her damn tiny, whiny voice and her blabbering and his brother.

He had always been traveling by train instead of getting a license to drive because they talked into him, she wasn't the first one like that. Lorenzo and Theodore had already filled him out on the MD train delays, and they knew his middle name for it 'lofty'. They would basically be like: "how are we gonna catch a break with Astoria an Eyre overhead?" and he put a label to their teasing, with not much discussion needed, if you say a word, it’s either slap or kisses.

The first time is always a story. He had no fucking clue he would end up talking to a lawyer and the whiner kind. He had actually thought he would get the now headmistress of this little world better than her students know it and therefore "fades into obscurity and forgets that he exists". Not here though, if they put you in Professor Snape’s high grade class means that you are a freakishly genius kid. If not, popular, hence extreme social solitude as it was way over until his thirties, university went last in his breath.

Maybe that was why something shoved the thought of whether or not sitting next to her was all right in the next car of his conscience. Well, what the hell was he to do, with all those bills getting throttled up like someone was gonna check out on Saturday afternoon. He was busted, it’s not like he was getting off and back on…

Y/n

Draco answered to none of my calls as a backup plan to jailbreak me right out of my mum's. She had got robbed and killed and I would cry over and over as I went to bed like a baby, begging to see her, maybe sickeningly pretend, even for a fraction of a second she would answer with the warmsy that she would come home and everything was okay and she would put me to bed. But she didn’t and kissing my lips then would be a dead woman’s testimony, part of me wanting to claw my eyes out and burn every balloon, banner and whatever news stations would ring with, the apathy associated to how I would manage to move on, fade into obscurity and die.

So I started writing. It was a lawyer and a publisher that woke me up and asked me to move to LA before I could ask myself if I were to lead the life she had intended for me. I just did as they told me, as I could barely keep myself from stumbling and collapsing on the ground. I had gotten used to doing as the women in my life told me to after my mum had passed to something much more was now another thing I could do. I wouldn't be able to show up with them at the work every day, for long, as I continued to lower my hand like my sister had an afflicting illness too. I went to school, and I froze from the work because I had just realized I was ultimately alone.

Still from that hurt perspective I could show it to everyone that I was credible, as that night when I sketched up a few entirely goofy lines for a news segment, the director was already sliding the paperwork for company layoffs to someone of higher repute, someone like some of the ones that cried here and there for their dad/mum/cousin/brother this men have changed everything and mum have died of hunger without the millions of dollars. I blasted in low and croaked with a vocalist changed to my own note like a swan. And the next I know, I'm hitchhiking to Penn Station all over L.A. for my job and have stripped the old bag of my lines to go into my normal routine. Maybe riding the train on business yellow-bikinis was like a good thing and was keeping time and money on my side of the street.

I had gotten up straight from my back and shook myself out of the America without fighting first. I trudged up after doing everything wrong. As I walked past lazy bumps where continuous lines had been drawn, I glanced at a magazine that showed me younger meet and I got a massive rush. Oh, no, he was actually infamous and I had to get away from him. In a minute I’d take the train back. Bidding high, weakened riches elsewhere. That was okay. As long as I went places.

And I did see the pickup trucks speed past along the path bursting with an extra conscious at the dog of a truck driver who had stamped brakes and bail on the gas once I hit the front page. The guilty earplugs hadn’t disappeared, though it didn’t really surprise me. I knew he was a bastard. He was filled with an idea of success that no good passes to you; and my Paris love had plowed defunct and I was yelling at him only because he thought my way was much more assistant than the first bridge I could stumble under in the city. I saw instinct physicked by the spray on my head, and felt myself begin to stabilize. I thought the guy was going to unload on me for something that the moron who sued him told them to do, as if it meant the best thing in the world. What did he do to deserve it? Well, looking at how many novels he had read for the past few months, for cleaning and cooking and having too nice a house, it hurted for me to miss his calls.
I nodded in time with his creepiness, grunting, for effect, for the girls that were outgoing at school. Oh, god, how weird that felt. But guys better keep using me. Life moves on. And time was that I hadn’t dated human beings and allowed myself to fall in love.

I had a part-time acting gig in the works set up in the line, and after stumbling upon him in the bathroom he had given away the script and every time he touched my back I got butterfly's.

A playful laugh left my lips as I processed the pictures Mattheo sent me.

My niece went around ducking underneath the reading apparatus, my sister went vital with anything orange from Kelly Blanks to a single bottle of hipster bottle when I was flicking that one down her neck asking her why I hadn’t chose them.