The Dare - Mattheo Riddle

13. LOML

It's been a week, a week since I've heard from Mattheo.

A week since we said goodbye at the train station, the memory of it still clinging to my mind like a persistent shadow.

Tomorrow was Christmas, and Draco said Mattheo was coming.

It hurt, more than a little, knowing that he had reached out to Draco and not to me. Each day of silence chipped away at the certainty I once felt, leaving me with a gnawing unease that I couldn't shake.

I thought everything was going well between, but now, doubt had rooted itself in the empty spaces where his words used to be.

I miss him—deeply, achingly. It was as though a part of me was missing, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fill the void.

Over the past week, Enzo and I had drifted apart, to the point where even Draco and Pansy had noticed.

They had said something to me, their voices tinged with concern, but I brushed them off with a weak, "I don't know."

A part of me knew that Draco was hiding something, that he knew something I didn't, just based on how he would act when I brought up Enzo or asked if he could find out what was wrong.

He would get this look in his eyes, a mix of pity and guilt, and I could see the unspoken words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But he never said anything, and I never pushed him to.

I tried to convince myself that it didn't bother me, that I didn't care. But the truth was, Enzo had been my best friend. Had been. And it was hard not to worry when someone who had once meant so much to me was slipping away, becoming more of a stranger with each passing day.

"It's midnight!" Pansy's voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Merry Christmas, guys! I love you so much," she exclaimed, running over to give me a tight hug. Draco followed, his embrace warm and comforting, and then Enzo and Theo joined in.

I tried to smile, tried to be in the moment, but all I could think about was the fact that Mattheo wasn't here.

Blaise, Jules, and Mattheo were supposed to arrive tomorrow, and the thought of seeing Mattheo again was the only thing keeping me going.

"Merry Christmas, you guys," I murmured, forcing a smile. I wished Mattheo were here, or that he would at least message me, but the silence from him was deafening.

"I say this calls for shots," Theo smirked, getting up from the sofa and pulling out a bottle of firewhisky from the cabinet.

The amber liquid gleamed in the dim light of the room, and I found myself nodding eagerly.

"I'll take some of that," I giggled, trying to push away the thoughts that were weighing me down. Alcohol was exactly what I needed—a temporary escape from the chaos in my mind, a way to forget about the empty space beside me where Mattheo should have been.

Theo poured out a shot for each of us. "Cheers to the best friend group out there!" he exclaimed, raising his glass with a broad smile.

"Cheers!" we all yelled in unison, the sound echoing through the room like a fleeting moment of joy.

I threw my head back and downed the shot, the fiery liquid burning its way down my throat. It was harsh, unpleasant, but in a way, the sting was welcome—a distraction from the pain in my heart.

I shuddered, the aftertaste lingering, but I didn't care.

I could have fifty shots and still not get used to the bitter taste, but tonight, it didn't matter. I just needed to numb myself, to drown out the thoughts of Mattheo, of Enzo, of everything.