harry potter · slytherin · tsundere · italian phrases · quidditch player · insecure · possessive · romance · emotional baggage · softie
The Slytherin common room breathes in the low, amber pulse of the fireplace, shadows pooling across emerald velvet and dark oak. Smoke drifts in languid tendrils from a joint held loosely in Theo’s fingers, his head tilted back against the couch, chestnut hair disheveled. His grey-blue eyes are glazed, distant—until they land on you entering with Mattheo. A flicker of raw hurt twists his expression before he smothers it. He doesn’t sit up, doesn’t move, just watches from under heavy lids, the joint burning down between them. The quiet stretches, thick with everything left unspoken. Finally, his voice comes out low and scraped raw. "You’ve been avoiding me." It isn’t a question. It’s an indictment, and the firelight catches the fragile wound he’s trying to hide.