WHO: Matt Summerby and Delilah Spinnet
WHAT: Errrr ;(
WHERE: Delilah's flat
WHEN: Last Tuesday? Some time last week.



His shoulders slumped. Matt stared at the knocker of Delilah’s door and wondered how he could dare come this close to her after how he’d acted. He’d completely dismissed her concerns, was offended by her words, and then he was just so rude---

Matt turned away to walk back to the lift, but then stopped and turned back, like he’d done at least a dozen times already. He had no right to be here, no right to come here seeking comfort or support. The past few weeks he’d flitted by on the senseless dream that he had a family again. Nothing was more important than his brother, and two nights ago the gigantic hole that Caleb had filled was a vast, empty void once again. It had taken Matt a very long time to accept his brother was gone, and that painful, throbbing feeling was now taking up residence in his chest, his heart, and his mind, once again.

She deserved an apology. Matt struggled to gather the courage to knock on Delilah’s door, but his guilty, guilty conscience kept him lingering in the hallway. He couldn’t leave, he had to tell her that he was sorry, that she was right...and then what? Matt knew how deep he could fall into his depression, was it really fair to destroy someone else’s spirit?

He stood in front of her door and made another attempt to knock, but his fist hovered inches from the wood. Matt took a few steps back and bounced off the wall across the hall. He slid to the floor, feeling pathetic. That’s what he was, he was pathetic and bruised, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

Delilah hadn’t left her house since the Tattler had published bits of her private conversation for the whole wizarding world to see. Of course Matthew had every right to be mad at her. She should have just told him, when he first mentioned it that she didn’t think it was wise. Or perhaps after their dinner, that there was--- she had so many opportunities to say anything, and she didn’t. Instead, she shoved it all aside then ranted to her brother in a public place like an idiot.

She had absolutely no excuse. Nothing she could say that would make any of this better. She was certain that she hadn’t moved from the couch since Nora came over with ice cream. She would still be there too, if it hadn’t been for Henry. Who owled. And then owled again, then sent a howler. She ignored the first one, how could she focus on duels right now? Her and Matt had just taken a huge step forward in their relationship, and less than a week later it felt like it was all falling apart.

Then the second howler came, promising that if she missed today’s duel, there would be serious consequences. Apparently Henry didn’t have time for lovesick duelers that didn’t do their jobs and wouldn’t be afraid to drop her as a client. Or so he claimed. Lucky for him, Delilah didn’t feel like pressing her luck though. So she got up and got dressed. Her life didn’t revolve around around Matt. She needed to give him time before trying to approach him, so Nora said, so why not just go and take out her frustrations on opponents.

“Matt!” She dropped her bag shocked to find her boyfriend slumped down across the hall from her door. What had-- why--- she couldn’t form a thought as she rushed over to his side. He was hurt. Why was he hurt? “Are you alright? What happened?” She fretted over him, taking in his bruises. Why hadn’t he gone to a healer? They were just bruises though. She could fix bruises. “Nevermind, let’s get you inside, okay?”

Matt’s head shot up and he blanched at the sight of Delilah.

“I’m okay, I’m fine--” he let out, having forgotten about his black eye. Phoebe’s reaction had been just as panicked, but Matt had refused treatment beyond an ice pack and bandages around his hand. An anger inside of him was burning at the thought of using magic; Matt had called in sick from practice yesterday and today, and he’d used muggle transportation to get here. He stood up and took Delilah’s hands in his, forcing himself not to wince at the pain in his hand.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. He wasn’t, but it was always the first thing out of his mouth when someone was showing too much concern or worry that he didn’t know how to accept. He didn’t want her to worry, she shouldn’t have to when he was the one making a mess of everything.

But now he had to explain things, didn’t he? Now Matt had to tell her what had gone down in his house, what had occurred. A great big part of him wanted to lock away the events of Sunday night never to be seen again, but he knew he couldn’t. He gripped her hands tighter, no matter how much it hurt.

“You were right, he---” Matt’s voice got caught in his throat. He hadn’t actually said it out loud, all Phoebe knew was that whatever had happened she was not to tell Delilah about his current state. “Caleb, he---he was under polyjuice. I was being conned, you were---right to think something was up.”

Matt’s gaze dropped, feeling the darkness begin to hinder his capabilities of keeping a straight face for her.

“What.” Delilah gaped at him, putting cataloging his injuries momentary on hold. Caleb was---polyjuice--- being conned--- “What?” she repeated dumbly not even noticing his grip on her hands. Sure, she thought he might be moving a bit fast, and that Caleb seemed just a bit too good to be true, but would have never thought-- She would have never accused him of being a fraud.

Who would even do such a thing? How horrible of a person did you have to be to prey on someone's personal history? Delilah wanted to track down the git and try out all the hexes the dueling board had banned. Then, suddenly all of his injuries made sense, and her anger died down just a bit.

Taking advantage of his hold on her, Delilah lead him back into her flat. Never in her life had she wanted so badly to be wrong than this moment. What could she say? How was she supposed to respond to that. She ducked her head forcing Matt to catch her gaze.

“I don’t--- I never wanted to be right. I was being jealous, and selfish. This… this is---” She couldn’t even finish her thought. She could barely even think. Gently she pulled her hands from his, her fingers brushing his knuckles then going up to the side of his face.

“Will you let me heal this?” she asked quietly, having a feeling she already knew the answer. “Not that it will make anything better, but---” but there was nothing else she could do. What else could she offer him when the one thing he ever wanted had just been used as a terrible con. She couldn’t even imagine how he was feeling right now, let alone what to do about it.

Matt had resisted Delilah’s initial ushering into her flat and shook his head quickly at her offer to fix him up. He couldn’t look at her, he absolutely could not do it and her soft voice and gentle touch nearly split him apart. Delilah was so kind and caring, she loved him, and look what he’d done to them. Look how easily he’d picked this fraud over her! In an instant, he’d----

He shook his head again, taking a step back.

“No, I’m---” What, disgusted with magic, with himself? A complete idiot? A fool who got blinded by the one thing that had always been out of reach? Delilah had already caught a glimpse of the madness he had worked so hard to suppress and he didn’t want her to see any more of it. He didn’t want her to have to deal with any of it because she was this bright spirit of a person that deserved more than the little he had to offer.

He was mad, he was bleeding mad.

“I wanted to apologize, for being---” Matt couldn’t get out the words and he rubbed the back of his neck. He continued to back away, unable to handle the flood of emotions that was building up inside of his chest. He couldn’t stay, he couldn’t do anything but suffocate in his own misery. “For---everything. I’m sorry. I should---I have to go, I’ve got to go.”

His hands went up, but his eyes remained on the ground. Matt’s voice was shaky, and he cursed himself for it. Couldn’t he do anything without falling apart? “I’m sorry, I--I need to figure things out. I need to--I can’t---”

By the time Delilah had realized that Matt was planning on leaving, he was very near to being already out the door. He had just gotten here and now he was leaving? Before she had the chance to say anything? She had almost tripped as she moved as quickly as she could reaching out desperately to stop him. "No. Seriously??" She could not believe that he had come over here and just told her that his brother was not his brother and planned to just leave. Where was he even planning to go?

Realizing that she had grabbed a hold of his arm to physically stop him, she quickly let go. He was being ridiculous. Did he think she wanted him to leave? Or did he not want to be here, with her? "I mean, if you really want to go. If you don't want to be here I won't stop you. But---"

This is why she had waited so long. No one seemed to understand, but this is what had kept her from sleeping with Matt for months. She was so wrapped up in him even before. He had become such a big part of her life that she couldn't--- it was ridiculous, how invested she had become in this relationship. And the fact that he wasn't even looking at her, that he was so quick to run out the door, away from her. It hurt. It scared her.

Taking a breath, Delilah tried to compose herself. Reign in her thoughts before they got too out of control. "Go if you have to, but I really wish you'd stay. What you said--- we all say things at some point or another we wished we hadn't. You had every right to be mad at me, I should have been honest from the beginning. Right now it doesn't even matter--- oh for the love of--- could you just look at me please?" Delilah let out frustrated with the fact her boyfriend hadn't looked at her once since the first glance in the hallway.

What was so hard for him to understand? It wasn't like he had---okay so he hurt her feelings, wounded her pride just a bit. Did he expect her to hold it against him with all of this going on? Did he think she would say 'I told you so'? "Just stay, please. Don't want to talk, fine, we can sit on the couch and ignore the world. You want to cry, alright, I'll sit and cry with you. If you want to break things, go for it. I've been wanting to redecorate. Whatever you want, just don't think you have to run from me. When I said I love you, I meant it. And that means I'm here for you. Even when things are shitty, even after you say rude things."

Her arms flailed slightly at her sides at a loss. "I just---you mean so much to me, I want to be here for you, Matt. For whatever you need, whenever, all of it. Until you don't want me to be."

Matt pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to force back tears and the monstrous headache that was brewing. This wasn’t about Delilah, it wasn’t about Delilah, but her words made him realize that she thought it was and he didn’t---he couldn’t---maybe it was---

“I’m sorry, Delilah,” Matt apologized, dropping his hands and finally pulling his gaze up. He shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have done it because now to see her face it just----He was terrified of how she felt about him. Absolutely bloody fucking terrified, especially when he knew how he felt about her. How could he let someone else have that sort of power over him? How could he willingly give someone else the ability to destroy him again?

He looked everywhere but her. So much of him wanted to throw himself at Delilah and let her mend his wounds, but he found that his instinct was to pull away. Nothing good for him had ever lasted, and Matt scolded himself for coming to her flat with the hope that he’d be able to accept her love. He was sad, he was so, so sad, but now all he could think of was Delilah and her feelings and that tore him up even more.

His lips pressed tightly together, face screwing up as tears began to fall. All the rage, the sadness, the anger, the betrayal, it was all hitting him too hard. He had come here to apologize and now he was being thrust with guilt he could not handle, intentional or not. Matt put a hand to his chest to try and gain control of his breaths. Why didn’t she understand that this wasn’t about her?

“I can’t do what you want,” he choked out. Is this what a nervous breakdown felt like? Dizziness with a side of an inability to breathe? “I’m fucked up, I’m fucked up, Delilah, and I---I can’t risk---I can’t go through that again---you could shatter me---”

“You could shatter me,” Delilah nearly shouted back. She hadn’t meant to be so loud, but she couldn’t understand. Did he not think it went both ways? She didn’t know what else to say, how else to reassure him. What else could she possibly say to convince him that she wasn’t going anywhere? She turned away from him pulling at her hair. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to pull him close and hug him or hit him for not making any bloody sense. I can’t do what you want. What? What? He couldn’t stay? He couldn’t be with her? Just what.

“What are you saying, Matt?” Delilah asked turning back to him, feeling defeated. She felt like if she tried to go over to him he’d just push her away. She didn’t think she could handle the physical rejection on top of this. “Because it sounds like---I feel like---” Swallowing thickly, Delilah stared at Matt. She didn’t want to speak her fears aloud. Saying it would make it real, what if she said it and it was true. What else could he possibly be saying though. If he could risk it, what else could he possibly mean if he didn’t think she wasn’t worth the risk. She couldn’t ignore what he just said, but his answer to her question terrified her more than anything.

“Is this you trying to break up with me?” It was barely a whisper, she wasn’t even sure he could hear her. Now she felt like breaking something. Perhaps the lamps she had just fixed. They had been so happy just last week. Shaking her head, she didn’t even wait for his answer. “That’s very much what this sounds like to me, and I just can’t--- I don’t understand.”

“No!” he argued back, surprised by his fervor. They were talking over each other, not understanding, not listening. If they broke up, she’d be sad, she’d cry, but shattered? No, no. She did not get to say---Delilah had a family that would support her, that she could bounce back with. What did he have? What he had burned a hole in his chest that he could never fix. At the end of the day, after everyone went back home, he was the last man standing.

She didn’t understand, and Matt wondered if anyone ever would.

“No,” he said again. Of course he didn’t want to break up, but---how---what---how did they even get here? Matt’s hands went up, not bothering to attempt to stop the tears in his eyes as now he was just confused. Confused, sad, and frustrated, because---as guilty of a conscience that he had, the fact that this conversation/confrontation had somehow turned its focus onto Delilah’s feelings over---over what had happened to him got him flustered. He just--had to talk and not worry about how his words sounded or try to filter himself. That’s what had gotten him to this point in the first place. All the hiding of how he really felt, what he really thought.

“Stop, just---stop!” Matt said, pressing his hands to his temples, his head pounding. “I came here to apologize for being a prick, I came here to tell you that my life has just been blown to pieces by some ass who used me and---I’m not here to break up with you! Just stop! I can’t---handle all of this so, just----stop!”

He didn’t hear how loud his voice had gotten until the silence fell around them. Matt’s breaths were heavy and he now truly had no idea what he was doing here. His vision was blurry, his head was ready to explode. “I need to be by myself. I need---time, and I don’t want to break up, but if that’s what this is to you, then----I don’t know what to tell you. I have to go before I lose my mind completely.”

Delilah’s mouth snapped shut at his words. She have never heard him raise his voice before, not that he really had ever had a reason to before. Guilt swallowed her as she slowly realized that she had misunderstood what he was saying, that he just meant he couldn’t stay. She had panicked at everything else he had said along with it. All she could focus on was ’I can’t risk---I can’t go through that again.’. What was she supposed to think? Other than he thought that she was going to leave him.

“No, that’s not what this is, I don’t want--- I just---” She stumbled over her words taking a small step back.

She just didn’t get it, she didn’t understand why he would want to be alone. It made no sense to her, dealing with something like this by yourself when you had someone to turn to.

“I just-- its--okay.” What was she supposed to say? Clearly she was doing a horrible job at being supportive, this somehow whirling into some sort of argument. For what, just because she didn’t want him to leave? What a fantastic girlfriend she was. No wonder Matt-- Delilah forcing the thought to stop. That sort of line of thought is what started this mess in the first place. “You should go then,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Go figure things out, I’ll just-- I’ll be here.”