Mattheo hisses as the antiseptic hits his wound with just a bit too much force. The movements are clumsy and unpracticed but he grits his teeth through it anyway. In front of him with his eyebrows furrowed is Theo, intense blue eyes staring down one of the many cuts on his face. Theodore lets out a frustrated string of expletives in Italian, or at least, what Mattheo thinks are expletives. He’s not entirely sure. But what he is sure, Theo has clearly never played nurse before.
“Theo—”
“Merda! I’ve got it Matt.”
He continues to grumble under his breath as he tries to fix the blood he managed to smear across Mattheo’s face worse than the fight had.
“Hold still!”
“I am!”
But instead of being frustrated like he probably should have been, Mattheo was trying not to laugh at how seriously Theo was taking this. If anything, it was kind of cute?
“Teddy—”
“So help me God, Mattheo.”
“What! I didn’t say anything! Your bedside manner is atrocious, Theo. Have you never cleaned a couple cuts before?”
Theodore’s hand stops its movements, eyes flicking up to meet his from where they were focused on his cheek. Mattheo holds his breath as they stare each other down. Because damn it, no one can intimidate him like his—Theo can. Mattheo breaks the staring match as he shakes his mental slip of the tongue away, praying his cheeks aren’t on fire.
“This time is different,” Theo’s voice cuts through the tense silence, pulling Mattheo from his thoughts. He shoots him a questioning look, not even needing to ask how?
“It’s you, dumbass.” There’s his answer but it just leaves Matt more confused. Theo must have picked up on the slight tilt of his head, curls shifting on his forehead, because the taller boy sighs. “Maledetto idiota. I worry about you,” it’s punctuated with a flick to Mattheo’s forehead, making him blink and pull his head back in surprise. “Oh.”
Then like it never happened, Theo is back to cleaning his wounds, gentler this time. The touch is almost feather-light, like he’s scared of hurting Mattheo further. Theo works in silence until Mattheo speaks up again; his tone dropped down, no longer making an attempt at banter. Vulnerable.
“You didn’t have to do this y’know. I could’ve done it myself… or gone to Pomfrey.” His gaze is locked on his lap, head still tilted up for Theo to do his thing. There’s a few more beats of quiet and Mattheo doesn’t even have to look up to know Theo’s trying to figure out what he wants to say.
“You got these because of me. I should be the one cleaning you up.” There it is.
Brown eyes flick up to meet blue ones, so much passing between them without a word. “You didn’t make me deck that bastard in the face.”
Theo dodges the reassurance with a shrug. He traces over the worst of the gashes with his thumb, uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t think they’ll scar.”
Mattheo hums in response as he tries to push past the gushy-feely bullshit with some banter, “that’s good, wouldn’t want my face to get any uglier.”
Theo’s brows furrow again. “What are we doing Matt?”
Mattheo’s mouth goes dry, caught off guard by the question, “wha—what do you mean?”
“Are you just playing dumb? You know what I mean.” And damn it, Mattheo does know. The lingering glances, the sitting ever so slightly too close for two people that claim to hate physical contact, the late nights smoking together and talking about everything. Mattheo is intimately familiar with what Theodore is referring to. But he’d rather take another fist to the face than admit it out loud. And maybe part of him hoped his best mate felt the same and they’d never have to have this conversation.
But a quiet voice in the back of his head, the one he tries to shove away every single time it comes up, is glad Theo’s the one to say something. That maybe something can change and Mattheo can finally do the things he’s wanted to do. The things he’s longed for in the privacy of his four poster with the curtains drawn in the middle of the night. The things he’s yearned for since his stupid, stupid heart went and fell for the one person he couldn’t have. But instead of giving in, his walls come back up and he’s sliding off the edge of Theo’s bed.
“No, I’m not playing dumb, jackass. And next time, just let me handle the clean up. It’s not like I’m dying.”
Theo’s soft expression instantaneously evaporates, making Mattheo regret ever opening his stupid mouth. Hell, he wishes Theo would look mad, pissed, hit him, anything other than the cold, dead eyes he’s getting now. And he wants to apologize, he really does. But pride? ego? cowardice? holds him back.
So he does what he always does when it comes to Theo and this stupid little dance they’ve been doing all term. He runs away. And fuck, he really does feel like a coward. But he can’t—can’t what exactly? He’s not entirely sure.
Before he can make it to the door, Theo’s barking his name. “Mattheo! Wait.” And he’s barely given a moment to react.
Theo grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close. As their chests bump together, Mattheo’s eyes widen, heart thundering in his chest. The grip on his shirt slowly relaxes and is shifted to the back of his neck. Mattheo braces for a punch.
But instead he gets lips lightly pressing against his. And fuck he thinks his heart might stop. He’s experiencing kisses before, heated make out sessions in broom closets and sloppy drunken ones at parties but nothing like this. This is gentle and tender and sweet in a way no one else has ever been with him. And he damn near melts.
His hands automatically come up to cup Theo’s face, a hint of scruff under his fingertips. Mattheo’s seen Theo kiss people before; passionate, like he’s trying to devour them whole, but this is different. He could have never anticipated Theo’s lips to be so soft, the movement like he’s scared Mattheo might break apart without warning. Maybe he will.
Before he can quite get addicted to this feeling—this sinful, heavenly feeling—Theodore’s pulling away. And it takes everything in Mattheo to not chase after his lips. Instead they stare at each other for a moment, breathing a little heavy and cheeks lightly flushed. Then Theo’s running a hand through his hair with a murmured curse under his breath and leaving the dorm. Taking Mattheo’s heart with him.