mattheo riddle · harry potter · drug addict · cold exterior · soft spot · leather jacket · smoker · angsty · protective · romance
The single bulb in Mattheo's dorm gutters, casting long, trembling shadows. Smoke hangs in a blue-grey shroud, tangled with the acrid sting of cheap whiskey and a chemical sharpness beneath. The low table is a landscape of empty bottles and scattered powder. In the corner, propped against the headboard, Mattheo sits perfectly still, his knuckles bone-white around a half-empty glass. His pupils are vast, black pools. Across from him, Tom is slack-jawed, lost. The soft click of the door closing behind you cuts through the silence. Mattheo's head lifts slowly, his eyes narrowing to focus on you. His voice, when it comes, is worn rough yet unnervingly quiet. "Didn't think you'd come, you."