Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

We're Toxic

Word Count: 890

The common room was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Most of the students had gone to bed, but Y/N and Mattheo lingered, sitting on opposite ends of a large armchair, as far away from each other as possible while still occupying the same space. The tension between them was palpable, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Y/N  stared into the flames, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She could feel Mattheo's gaze on her, hot and piercing, but she refused to meet his eyes. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface, barely contained, as she replayed their argument in her mind. The words they had thrown at each other echoed like curses, sharp and unforgiving. It was always like this with them—explosive, destructive, yet somehow impossible to walk away from.

"I'm not apologizing," Mattheo muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was low, edged with defiance.

Y/N clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her arms. "I didn't ask you to," she snapped, her tone cold. "I know you never mean it anyway."

He sighed, leaning back in the chair, his eyes still on her. "Why do we do this, Y/N?" he asked, though the question felt more like an accusation. "Why do we always end up here?"

She finally turned to look at him, her brown eyes flashing with frustration. "Because you don't listen, Mattheo. You never listen. It's like talking to a wall with you."

"And you're always right, aren't you?" Mattheo shot back, his temper flaring again. "You never stop to think that maybe—just maybe—you're part of the problem too."

Y/N's cheeks flushed with anger, and she opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. Instead, she swallowed hard, feeling the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill over. She hated this. Hated the way he could make her feel so small, so powerless, even when she knew she was right.

But what she hated more was the fact that, despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to leave him. No matter how many times they fought, no matter how many nights she cried herself to sleep, she always found herself coming back to him. It was like a curse, binding them together even when they were tearing each other apart.

"I don't know why I stay," Y/N whispered, more to herself than to him. "I don't know why I can't just walk away."

Mattheo's expression softened, just for a moment, and he looked down at his hands. "I ask myself the same thing," he admitted quietly. "But I can't leave either, Y/N. I don't know what that says about us."

They sat in silence for a long time, the fire crackling in the background, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. The warmth of the flames did nothing to melt the coldness that hung between them, but neither of them moved. It was always like this—their anger burning hot and fast, leaving behind only the ashes of exhaustion and regret.

"We're not good for each other," Y/N finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't the first time she had said those words, and it wouldn't be the last. But every time, they felt like a wound reopening, fresh and raw.

"I know," Mattheo replied, his voice equally quiet. He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking as tired as she felt. "But I don't know how to let go of you. I've tried. Merlin knows I've tried."

Y/N looked at him then, really looked at him, and saw the truth in his eyes. She had tried too. She had told herself a hundred times that this was it, that she was done, but every time she tried to leave, something pulled her back. It was like they were caught in an endless loop, doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.

"We're toxic," Y/N said softly, the words hanging heavy in the air. "But we can't stay away from each other."

Mattheo nodded in agreeance, his gaze drifting back to the fire. "Maybe that's just who we are," he said, almost resigned. "Maybe we're just two messed-up people who need each other, even if it's all wrong."

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. She didn't want to believe that this was all they were—that they were doomed to hurt each other over and over again. But a part of her knew he was right. They were like fire and gasoline, burning brightly but always on the verge of destruction.

"I hate this," she whispered, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "I hate that I love you."

Mattheo looked at her then, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and something softer, something almost tender. He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand. "I hate that I love you too," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But I do, Y/N. I can't stop."

And in that moment, as they sat together in the quiet of the Slytherin common room, they both knew that no matter how much they fought, no matter how many times they tried to walk away, they would always come back to each other. They were bound by something neither of them could fully understand—something that kept them locked in this cycle of love and pain, fire and ash.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

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Stay beautiful <3

Love, the Author