slytherin boys react - II

him seeing the dark mark on you

────────୨ৎ────────
theodore nott
────────୨ৎ────────

his observant gaze hadn't missed a thing in recent weeks, not the sleepless nights, the sudden guarded demeanor, nor the way you seemed to cover your forearm more than usual. he asked you once, his tone quiet and careful, and you couldn't give him an answer. 

but tonight, you can't avoid it anymore. when you confess, he says nothing at first, his usually calm features betraying a flicker of surprise. then, hesitantly, he reaches for your arm. "may i?" he asks softly, his voice impossibly gentle. 

you nod, your throat too tight to speak. he takes your arm in his warm hands, slowly pulling up the sleeve to reveal the dark ink etched into your skin. 

his fingertips brush over the mark, his touch featherlight yet lingering, as though he's memorizing every detail of it. his brows knit together, but his expression is calm, if not a little somber. his thumb traces a small part of the mark, his touch soothing despite what it means. 

after a moment, he rolls up his own sleeve, revealing his own mark in silent solidarity. he looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours, steady and reassuring. "we'll be fine," he says firmly, his voice carrying a quiet strength. 

before you can respond, he laces his fingers through yours and brings your hand up to his lips. he kisses each knuckle tenderly, his kiss to your knuckles soft, deliberate. then, he turns your wrist slightly, pressing his lips against the skin just beneath the mark, as though to erase its weight. "you're not alone," he whispers, his voice a promise. "i'm here." 

his eyes don't leave yours as he presses another kiss to your wrist. his lips linger for a moment before gently pulling back, and without a word, he guides your hand to his cheek. 

his eyes flutter closed briefly, as if savoring the touch, before they meet yours once more. you can feel his breath soft against your skin. his thumb gently brushes the side of your hand as he holds it against his face, as though the connection is the only thing grounding him in that moment. "you've got me, always."

────────୨ৎ────────
mattheo riddle
────────୨ৎ────────

"show me." his voice is quiet, almost breathless, but there's no mistaking the command in his words. he stands in front of you, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he waits for you to respond.

you hesitate, your hands clenching at your sides. "mattheo, i-"

"please," he interrupts, his tone sharper now. "show me." he says, and with trembling fingers, you reach for your sleeve, pulling it up to reveal the mark. his gaze hardens as he steps closer, his jaw clenching tight. he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the mark but never quite touching it.

"i'm sorry," you choke out, tears finally slipping free.

"stop." his voice cracks, and his hands come up to cup your face, his touch achingly gentle. "don't apologize. don't-"

"i couldn't stop it," you whisper. "he- he made me-"

"i'm sorry," he cuts in, shaking his head slightly. "i'm so sorry," he mutters. "i couldn't protect you," his voice breaks as he presses his forehead against yours. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i couldn't protect you from him."

you blink at him, confused by his reaction. "mattheo, it's not your fault-"

"yes, it is," he interrupts, his hands drop from your face as he pulls back slightly, his voice firm yet trembling with guilt. "i couldn't protect you... from him." his hand slides down to your forearm, his thumb brushing over the dark ink with a kind of tender reverence. "i should've been there. i should've kept you safe," he murmurs.