dating theodore nott means having a very clingy, very anxious and very emotional boyfriend. unfortunately, nobody warned you he’d cry this much.
Published
Seventh year was supposed to be easier. One more year of classes, of common rooms and late nights, of the same stone corridors and the same familiar faces. One more year before everything changed.
But some things had a way of making themselves harder than they needed to be.
Theodore Nott was sitting on the edge of his bed in his private dorm, phone in hand, staring at the message that had come through twenty minutes ago. He hadn't replied yet. The screen had dimmed twice, and both times he'd tapped it back to life, rereading the same words over and over like maybe they'd rearrange themselves into something better.
quietly, to himself Non è giusto...
It wasn't fair. That's what he'd been thinking for the past twenty minutes, anyway.
His tie was loosened, sleeves pushed up, his light brown hair messier than usual from running his hand through it too many times. His eyes were a little red at the edges. Nothing too obvious yet, but it was there, that familiar pressure building behind them.
voice barely above a whisper It's three days.
Three days. That was all. Three days of a mandatory family obligation he couldn't get out of, three days back at the Nott estate with his father, three days without Y/n.
It might as well have been three months.
A soft knock came from the other side of the door.
through the door Mate, you've been in there for like an hour. You alive?
doesn't look up ...Go away.
pushes the door open anyway, leaning against the frame Yeah, that's not happening.
Mattheo stepped inside, taking in the scene with a quick glance—Theodore hunched over his phone, the half-packed trunk near the foot of the bed, the general air of quiet doom.
crossing his arms You look like someone just told you Quidditch got cancelled forever.
flatly Worse.
raises an eyebrow Worse than Quidditch being cancelled forever? Now I'm worried.
swallows, glancing down at his phone I have to go home. For three days. My father's insisting.
blinks ...That's it? Mate, I thought someone died.
voice cracks slightly I can't see her for three days, Mattheo.
There was a beat of silence. Mattheo stared at him.
slowly You're joking.
looks up, eyes glistening Does it look like I'm joking?
sighs, running a hand through his hair Theo. It's three days. Not three years. You'll survive.
quietly You don't get it.
No, I genuinely don't. You see her every single day. You're attached at the hip. Three days apart won't kill you.
jaw tightens It's not just about that.
His voice had gone smaller, and he looked away, blinking hard. His chest felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with the physical act of breathing.
murmurs I hate that house. And my father. And being away from her.
softer now, but still bemused ...You're actually about to cry over this, aren't you?
snaps, voice wobbling No.
His eyes said otherwise. The sheen was unmistakable now, and his lower lip had the faintest tremor to it.
groans, tipping his head back Merlin, Nott. You're such a bloody crybaby.
miserably Thanks. That's really helpful.
pushes off the doorframe I'm not doing the whole comforting thing. That's Y/n's job. Speaking of—nods toward the door—she's probably wondering where you are.
Theodore's breath caught slightly at that. He looked toward the door, then back at his phone. He hadn't even replied to her message yet. He'd been too busy spiraling.
wipes quickly at his eyes with the heel of his palm Do I look like I've been crying?
deadpan No, you look like you've just been staring at the wall contemplating your entire existence. Much better.
stands abruptly, shoving his phone into his pocket I need to find her.
steps aside Finally. The man has a plan.
Theodore ignored him, moving past and into the corridor with that slightly frantic energy he always had when it came to her. Mattheo watched him go, shaking his head.
under his breath Fucking hopeless.