The Serpent & Hawke | Mattheo Riddle | Enemies to lovers

Part 34 - For old times' sake

(warning: talk of vomit)

Mattheo's POV

Silence filled my room.

Enzo and Theo sat at the end of my bed, their faces unreadable as they processed what I'd just told them.

My hands trembled in my trouser pockets while my gaze jumped from one of them to the other, searching for any sign of judgment or revulsion.

The ticking of the clock on my nightstand seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

Theo finally exhaled loudly, the sound cutting through the silence.

"...How are you coping?" He asked quietly.

I shrugged, pausing for a moment to gather my thoughts.

The memory of Alfred's screams echoed in my mind.

"I don't know...I just feel sick, mostly." I admitted.

It wasn't a lie.

I hadn't slept a wink all night, my mind replaying the events in a relentless loop.

I'd lost count of the number of times I'd rushed to the bathroom, vomiting until my throat burned.

Enzo's leg jittered up and down, a nervous habit.

"I mean, you didn't have a choice, mate. It'd probably be you if you refused." He said, his words an attempt at comfort that fell short of their mark.

I gave a slight nod.

"Please don't tell the girls." I managed, my voice hoarse.

"We won't." Theo assured, standing up.

The bed springs creaked as Enzo followed suit.

"I'm guessing you won't be at revision classes then?" Enzo asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

His eyes kept darting to the burn on my face.

I shook my head, the movement causing a dull throb.

Theo awkwardly walked up and gave me a one-armed hug, clapping my back.

The gesture, meant to be comforting, sent a jolt of pain through my still-tender body.

"If you need anything, let me know."

I nodded.

Enzo did the same before they manoeuvred towards the door, their footsteps hesitant as if unsure whether to stay or go.

Once they left, I exhaled deeply, feeling as if I'd been holding my breath for hours.

I moved to my bed, sinking down on the mattress.

I hadn't told them about Voldemort wanting Lyanna, nor did I mention anything about Dumbledore's plan to rid the world of the Dark Lord.

I just needed to tell someone.

I needed validation to know I wasn't like my father.

Their shock was evident, but they didn't blame me, nor did they treat me differently.

I missed all of revision week.

The thought of being around people didn't help with the nausea bubbling within my stomach.

And I could do without the stares and whispers about my burn.

But luckily, the injury healed.

It was an agonising process.

Once red, blistered, and furious, now a very light pink, leaving behind only the faintest reminder of that horrific night.

Thanks to the mysterious jar of soothing gel found at my bedroom door one day.