[CHAPTER 14]

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

TITLE  : THE AFTERMATH

THE AIR IN THE locker room was thick with something neither of them had the courage to name.

Ellie's back was still pressed against the cool metal of the lockers, Mattheo's body still close—too close—his forehead resting lightly against hers.

Their breaths were uneven, their hearts still hammering in the aftermath of what had just happened.

It was like a dam had finally broken, flooding them both with feelings they had been too stubborn to acknowledge.

Ellie's fingers were still tangled in his hair, her other hand gripping the fabric of his jersey like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Mattheo's hands were firm on her waist, fingertips pressed into the soft material of her jumper, like he needed to feel her, to make sure she was still here, still real.

No one spoke.

Neither of them dared.

Because what now?

They had spent weeks pretending. Months acting like nothing was different, like the lines weren't blurring, like every glance, every touch, every moment between them wasn't building into something more.

And now—

Now they had crossed the line.

Burned it, shattered it, kissed it into oblivion.

And there was no going back.

—

Ellie swallowed hard, finally shifting slightly, feeling the press of Mattheo's body against hers. Her pulse jumped at the realization.

He still hadn't moved away.

His hands were still tight on her waist.

His breathing was still uneven.

Merlin.

She hesitated, trying to find her voice.

"theo—"

He growled.

A deep, frustrated sound, almost like he hated hearing her say his name right now.

Ellie barely had time to process it before his hands tightened, his jaw clenching as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Then—

He pulled away.

Not all the way. Not enough to break whatever spell had wrapped around them, but just enough to put a sliver of space between them.

Just enough for Ellie to see his face.

And Merlin, he looked wrecked.

His lips were red and slightly swollen, his hair was messier than usual, and his eyes—those damn eyes—were stormy, like he was fighting an internal battle he knew he was about to lose.

He swallowed hard, looking at her like he was trying to figure something out.

Like he didn't know what the hell to do next.

Ellie's fingers twitched where they were still clutching his jersey.

"...We should talk," she finally said, her voice quieter than she intended.

Mattheo let out a harsh exhale, dragging a hand through his already-mussed hair.

"No," he said roughly. "We shouldn't."

Ellie blinked. "What—?"

"We shouldn't talk about it," he repeated, stepping back fully, like if he stayed close to her for one more second, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pulling her right back in.

Like he wanted to.

Ellie frowned, the sudden loss of warmth making her feel off balance.

"theo, we have to talk about it. We—"

He shook his head sharply. "Not right now."

His voice was firm, but there was something else beneath it. Something unsteady.

Ellie searched his face, but he wasn't looking at her anymore.

He was staring at the floor, at his hands, anywhere but at her.

Her stomach twisted.

He regretted it.

Didn't he?

—

Ellie bit her lip, a thousand emotions crashing into her at once.

The warmth of his hands on her skin.

The way he had kissed her like he was starving for her.

Like he had wanted to do it for a long, long time.

But now—

Now he was shutting down.

Closing himself off.

Like it had been a mistake.

Like she had imagined the way his lips had lingered on hers, the way his body had pressed so tightly against hers, the way he had looked at her afterward—like he was terrified of what came next.

Her chest tightened.

She hadn't imagined it.

She knew she hadn't.

But if Mattheo was going to pretend—if he was going to ignore it—then what was she supposed to do?

Ellie inhaled sharply, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"...Fine."

Mattheo's shoulders tensed.

"Fine?" he repeated, like he didn't believe her.

Ellie lifted her chin, crossing her arms. "If you don't want to talk about it, we won't talk about it."

His jaw clenched. "Ellie—"

"No." She forced herself to sound indifferent, even though her heart was hammering. "You said not right now. I get it."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

He didn't like that she was agreeing.

Good.

Because she didn't like that he was running.

—

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The only sound was their ragged breathing, the weight of everything unspoken crushing the air between them.

Finally, Mattheo exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face.

"...I have practice," he muttered.

Ellie felt something sting in her chest, but she kept her expression blank.

"Right."

She turned toward the door, pushing down the lump in her throat.

But before she could reach it—

"Ellie."

She froze.

His voice was softer now. Hoarse.

Like he hated whatever the hell was happening between them.

Slowly, she turned back.

And for the briefest second—

His eyes begged her to say something.

To fix whatever had just broken.

But she couldn't.

Not when he was the one who broke it.

So she just gave a small nod.

"I'll see you later, theo."

Then she walked away.

Leaving him standing there, fists clenched, heart pounding, jaw tight—

Watching her go.

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───