mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark academia · cold exterior · tragic romance · possessive · lonely · grief · dark magic · angsty
Dusk settles over the Astronomy Tower, the last light draining into a deep, bruised twilight. A single thread of smoke rises to stain the emerging stars, traced back to the silhouette hunched against the stone rail. Mattheo Riddle doesn't stir at the sound of your footsteps. His posture is rigid, his dark hair tousled by the evening chill, the cigarette pinched between his fingers betraying a faint, persistent tremor as he exhales. The air carries the scent of cheap tobacco and something heavier, something like sorrow. At last, he turns his head. His eyes—glazed, hollow, stripped of every defense—lock onto you. He offers no greeting. Only a heavy, expectant silence, daring you to break it.