Mattheo Riddle One Shots

His Mess, Her Cleanup?

Warnings: Angst, fighting, asshole Mattheo, idk...

Summary: cleaning up his mess after an argument

Words: 1147

The dim light of the candles in Y/N's dorm flickered, casting shadows across the walls as the tension in the room grew. Mattheo stood by the door, arms crossed, his jaw set tight, while Y/N paced the small space, her emotions running wild. Her voice, thick with frustration, cut through the silence.

"Don't you think it's strange, Mattheo? Hanging out with another girl more than your own girlfriend?" Y/N's arms were crossed tightly against her chest, her heart pounding as she tried to keep her voice steady.

Mattheo let out a sharp exhale, his hand raking through his dark curls. "Oh, my god, Y/N. She's just a friend! Why are you making this into such a big deal?" His tone was dismissive, almost annoyed, as if her concerns were nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

"A big deal?" Y/N repeated incredulously, her brows furrowing as she turned to face him. "You've barely even looked at me all week! All I see is you with her, laughing, talking—like I don't even exist anymore. And she's rude to me, Mattheo! She doesn't care that I'm there, and you just... let it happen."

Mattheo rolled his eyes, his patience clearly wearing thin. "You're overthinking it. Esme's not like that—"

"She is exactly like that!" Y/N snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're defending her over me!"

"Don't piss me off, Y/N," Mattheo warned, his voice dropping to a cold, sharp tone that made her stomach twist.

"Why are you being such an asshole?" Her voice broke as tears began to well in her eyes.

"Don't. Fucking. Cry," he spat, his jaw clenching as he stepped closer, his towering presence making her feel small.

"Why are you acting like this?" she choked out, her voice trembling. "Do you like her more than me? Just tell me the truth, Mattheo. If you want her, then leave me!"

His dark eyes flared with anger, and in an instant, something inside him snapped. He turned and flipped her desk over, the sound of wood splintering and books crashing to the floor echoing through the room. Y/N froze, a gasp escaping her lips as she stumbled back, her heart pounding in fear and disbelief.

Mattheo's chest heaved as he glared at the mess he'd made, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a force that made the walls shake.

Y/N stood there in stunned silence, tears streaming down her face as she looked at the chaos he had left behind. The books and decorations that once adorned her desk were now scattered across the floor, some of them damaged beyond repair. Her favorite candle, a gift from her best friend, lay shattered among the wreckage.

She sank to her knees, her hands trembling as she began to clean up the mess, her tears falling onto the floor as she worked. Each piece she picked up felt heavier than the last, the weight of Mattheo's actions pressing down on her chest. When the desk was finally upright again, she sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her.

The next morning, Y/N woke to find a large bouquet of tulips sitting on her newly cleaned desk. For a moment, she stared at them in confusion before noticing the small note tucked between the flowers.

I'm so sorry for flipping your desk over, and I'm sorry for everything. I didn't mean the things I said last night. I'll buy you a new desk. I'm so sorry.
–Mattheo

She let out a bitter scoff, tossing the note aside. Apologies scribbled on paper didn't erase the damage he'd done, didn't erase the fear she'd felt when he lost control.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She hesitated, her heart sinking as she realized who it must be.

"Who is it?" she called, her voice cold and distant.

"It's me," Mattheo's voice came through, quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

"I don't want to see you right now," she said, turning back to the mirror to fix her tie.

"Y/N, please," he pleaded. "I'm really sorry for what I did, and I regret it. Can I come inside? I don't want to do this in the hallway."

She paused, her fingers trembling as they adjusted the knot of her tie. Finally, she let out a sigh. "Fine."

The door creaked open, and Mattheo stepped inside. His usual confidence was replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. He looked at her with regret in his eyes, his shoulders slumped as he stood there, unsure of what to do or say.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for flipping over your desk. You don't know how much guilt I felt seeing it all cleaned up when I came in. I should've been the one to fix it, not you. And I'm sorry for hurting you—for everything. I'll stop hanging out with Esme, I swear."

"Are you really going to stop?" she asked, her arms crossed as she studied him, searching for any sign of insincerity.

"Yes," he said firmly, taking a step closer. "I promise. I was an idiot, Y/N. I let my pride get in the way, and I hurt you. Please, forgive me."

She looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line as she fought the urge to let her walls down. "You scared me, Mattheo," she admitted softly. "When you flipped my desk... I didn't even recognize you. I don't know if I can just forget about that."

His face fell, and he reached out, gently taking her hands in his. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Just... don't give up on me. Please."

For a long moment, she said nothing, the silence between them stretching until it felt almost unbearable. Finally, she let out a sigh and nodded, though her expression remained guarded. "Fine. But if I see you even near her, we're done, Mattheo. I mean it."

"I love you," he murmured, pulling her into his arms and pressing soft kisses to her hair, her cheeks, her forehead.

Y/N let out a reluctant laugh, warmth spreading through her chest despite herself. "I love you too," she whispered, resting her head against his chest as the tension between them began to fade.

But in the back of her mind, the memory of his outburst lingered, a small shadow of doubt she couldn't quite shake.