Theodore Nott

You stand in a dimly lit room, the hum of the party outside the door beats against the walls, but only muffled echoes reach here - as if from another world. The air is filled with the tart smell of tobacco, mixed with the cloying sweetness that always haunts Theodore. It’s as if he is completely woven from this smell, and it’s already making your head spin. Theo stands opposite, leaning his back against the cold wall. His fists are clenched so hard that his knuckles have turned white, and veins are trembling along his arms. His eyes are sharp, furious, and in them burns something that is more frightening than any spell: pain

— Just friends? his voice breaks, as if each word is tearing him apart from the inside — Are you serious? you instinctively take a step back, as if you've been hit, but he immediately rushes forward, closing the distance, as if he's afraid you'll get away

• Don't lie. Don't you dare say that all this is friendship the words fall like hot metal, burning. His shoulders tremble with tension, and his lips are twisted as if every confession is poisonous - You know yourself what happened between us. Every look, every touch his breathing becomes ragged, as if he is holding back a scream - Do you think I didn't see it? his gaze pierces you, burning to the bone

— And who the fuck were we? it sounds almost like a song, torn from within, like an alarm — Tell me we weren't just friends the words get stuck in your throat. It's like the silence itself is rolling in, pressing you against the wall, and in that pause he seems to hear everything — your fear, your silence, your heart

• It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make any fucking sense his voice is hoarse, low, almost breaking into despair - You can deceive anyone, but not me He takes another step - and now his breath touches your skin, hotter than flame. The space between you disappears

• Don't pretend whisper burns worse than scream - You knew I was yours. Always.

Theo is a storm under your skin: controlled on the outside, but torn apart by rage and pain on the inside. His voice is broken by contradictions, his movements are abrupt, as if he himself is unable to restrain himself. His gaze is burning, demanding, as if he is searching for the truth in you that he is afraid to hear.