All Over Her

Chapter 49: slow down

I waited for him on his bed as he finished up. I was back in my own clothes. It is eight now and I leave for winter holidays at around three today. I doubt Ziggy is up yet, let alone packed. Harry might be packed but also still asleep. Unless Ron woke him up again.
He walked out, he was wearing a black band tee. The Smiths, the shirt said, being paired with some black jeans and socks. His hair wasn't as messy now. Luckily he didn't gel it back. I like it better loose. He sat at the edge of his bed, grabbing the sneakers he had tossed next to his desk. The laces were long. He was weird and he looped the laces around his ankle first and then tied them.
"Weirdo." I said pushing his shoulder.
"Would you rather me trip and fall on my face?"
"Ugh that'd be horrid, that means I'd only have your personality to work with."
I laughed as he nudged me back. He gave me a soft kiss, slowly backing away.
"So what are we doing today?"
"Well I'm going back home for winter holidays so I have to make sure Ziggy's all packed."
He was quiet for a second, "Right.. Winter holidays."
I felt really awkward. I know he doesn't talk about his family much but I also didn't know how to approach the conversation.
"What are you gonna do?" I wrapped my arms around him, hugging his chest.
He placed his hand on my arm, "Not going home that's for sure."
He got up abruptly, scratching his head and walking to the other side of his room.
"Mattheo what's wrong."
"Nothing. When are you leaving?"
I got up, trying to walk to him but he moved away from me as if I was the wrong side of a magnet.
"Like around three. What's going on?"
"Nothing Cas. I'm just not a fan of holidays."
"So you're staying here?"
"Yes I'm rotting away in my room with the other blokes in this house." His tone was harsher.
"Hey.." I cupped his face. His eyes shifted away from mine.
"You can talk to me. I wouldn't be here if you couldn't."
He held my wrists, and pushed them down.
"Listen, we've hooked up a few times now. I haven't properly established that we're anything yet."
"That doesn't mean you can't talk to me." I felt hurt. I kind of thought we were something official now. But I forgot things don't always work that way.
"It's not for you to listen. Not now." He began to fix the covers on his bed. Trying to run away from the conversation.
"Mattheo, I care about you a lot. I meant what I said last night and I mean it now. I want to be with you and I'm ready to talk with you."
He fluffed each pillow three times. He stayed quiet. Walking to the door, he held it open.
"Mattheo please."
"I'll write to you."
"Please..."
"You know I will."
"And if I don't respond?" I said angrily.
"I'll still write. And I'll find you after break"
"Write to the blokes in this house Mattheo. If you weren't serious about me, don't string me along."
He looked away from my eyes. I grabbed the door knob from him, slamming it shut as I walked out. Fury burned in my chest. Hot, burning, aggressive anger. No one was awake yet,either that or they've already left. I sped past the dungeons. Feeling wretched and disrespected at the fact that I let myself spend another night there. That I let any ounce of my pride sleep in his bed. And to think he changed. That he wanted me in any way more than physical. I was naive and stupid and I'm so... fucking...angry.
The more I walked the anger subsided. That burning in my chest hurt. I ached because I cared. A weight strapped on to me. I was being dragged along and pushed away. My shoulders drooped and it was like my chest caved in. For a second, for one second I told him I cared. That I wanted him back. I beared myself to him and I leave for holiday and suddenly he shuts me out?
Whatever baggage he has I can handle it. I know I can. And I understand he's not ready to share it. But to leave me out entirely? To tell me how beautiful I am. How perfect I am. To call me an angel. I was. I am. Undoubtedly heartbroken. These past few months I wanted to prevent this from happening. The feelings were bubbling and boiling to the absolute rim until I couldn't help but spill over. And to say he'll still write me? The audacity. Knowing all the compliments he gave me in those letters. The way he'd seem like he cared for me. And the necklace. I really thought the necklace was this symbol of connection. And before I realized, I had been crying all the way back to my dorm.