pairing: ex!tomriddle x yn. slytherin!friendgroup x yn
summary: In their final year at Hogwarts, a tightly bound Slytherin circle navigates loyalty, power, and unravelling emotions. YN tries her best to push away any memory of Tom Riddle and their fractured past, but he refuses to let it stay buried. Between sharp wit and lingering obsession, some bonds prove impossible to break…
warnings: poorly proofread lol, characters from loads of eras/fanfics, ex-boyfriend trope, bit of angst, bit of fluff, flashbacks, yn reader, fighting, possessive tom, jealous tom, slowww burn, yn lowkey hates mattheo ahhahaha
author's note: i've had the first 3 parts of this series in the drafts for a whileeee now. again, flashbacks are in italics
No notes. That, more than anything, unsettled her.
The first morning she checked her bedside table without thinking. The second morning she told herself she wouldn’t. By the third, it had become routine again. Her hand slipping beneath her pillow, fingers brushing along the inside of her robes, the pages of her books.
But every morning, there was nothing. No folded parchment. No careful ink. No quiet, admiring words left where no one should have been able to place them.
It should have felt like relief, but it didn’t because Tom didn’t disappear with them. If anything, he became more present.
Not in any obvious way. Not in a way that anyone else would notice or question. He wasn’t following her, wasn’t inserting himself into conversations, wasn’t hovering close enough to be called out.
Always just slightly behind her. She would turn a corner and catch the edge of his robes disappearing into a classroom she had been heading toward. Sit down at breakfast and find his place recently vacated, goblet still warm, chair slightly out of place. Hear his voice in a room before she entered it, only for it to fall quiet as she crossed the threshold.
It wasn’t enough to prove anything.
But it was enough that she started anticipating it.
Enough that she began looking for him before she even realised she was doing it.
Transfiguration was the first class that morning.
The classroom smelled faintly of parchment and polished wood, sunlight spilling through the tall windows and casting long, clean lines across the desks. It was quiet in the way only McGonagall’s classes ever were. Focused. Controlled.
Pansy slumped into her seat beside YN with a sigh. “If she says ‘precision’ one more time, I’m going to lose it.”
“You lack precision,” Theodore said from her other side, not looking up from his notes.
“And patience,” YN quipped.
Pansy let out a quiet breath, her lips twitching as she arranged her things neatly in front of her. “At least I’m consistent,” she added.
“That’s not the boast you think it is,” Theodore replied.
Professor McGonagall turned at the front of the room. “Miss YLN.”
YN’s head lifted instantly. “Yes, Professor.”
“Would you care to demonstrate the adjustment?”
She stood without hesitation, her wand already raised. The class watched, silent, as she positioned herself beside the desk. Her movements were clean and controlled.
The goblet shifted under her spell, and it began transforming smoothly into a bird. Well, almost smoothly. The bird kept the copper gleam of the goblet, looking peculiar but beautiful.
“Good,” McGonagall said, “Everyone flip to page 293 and practice with your partner.”
From directly behind her, “Almost.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around her wand.
“You’re dropping your hand too early,” he continued, still not looking at her. “You’re anticipating the final shift before the structure settles.”
Heat crept up her spine, unwelcome and familiar. She didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge him.
Instead, YN turned to Pansy to begin practising as directed. However should couldn’t stop Tom’s words creeping back into her mind.
So she adjusted her grip. Just slightly. And tried again.
The object settled perfectly into place.
“Good girl,” his voice was warm yet condescending. YN returned to her seat, posture unchanged, expression composed.
“You must hate him,” Pansy whispered.
Theodore glanced between them, his face far from amused. “That didn’t sound convincing at all.”
YN ignored him, though her thoughts lingered longer than she wanted them to.
“You’re doing it again,” Tom said, leaning back against the bench, watching her with his arms folded.
“Doing what?” she asked, not looking up from her work.
“Overthinking it. Your shoulders are so tense they’re in your ears.”
“You are.” He stepped forward, his large hands landing softly on her shoulders. “Breathe YN.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “And what, you don’t ever overthink a spell?”
His voice paused as his hands continued to travel up and down her back. Moving her hair to one side, he leaned in close to her ear, pressed closely against her back. “No.”
“That’s incredibly arrogant.”
She rolled her eyes, but as the warmth from his hands continued to rub her back comfortingly, she felt the stress melt away. When she returned her gaze to the coin on the table in front of her, the answer came easier. He always made it easier.
YN blinked, forcing herself back into the present.
The way he still fit into her thoughts, like he had never left.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of corridors and voices, the castle settling into its usual rhythm around her.
Potions came and went. This time, they weren’t paired together, which should have helped.
He was still there. Still moving with that same controlled precision, still anticipating everything before it happened. YN felt like she was suffocating in his presence.
A war constantly raging in her mind.
She spent all summer healing. Forgetting him as much as she could when their rooms were across from one another at the Nott’s summer manor. And now, for whatever reason, he was making it his mission to get back into her mind.
She didn’t know if she wanted to stop him.
At one point, she reached for an ingredient, only to find it already in her hand. Her brows furrowed slightly as she looked down at it. She couldn’t even think straight.
Looking over to where he sat across the room, Tom didn’t look at her.
By the time evening rolled in, the air had cooled, the sky stretching dark and open above the castle. The wind roared as YN made her way up the final few steps of the astronomy tower. The wind was sharper here, tugging at her hair as she stepped out onto the stone, the scent of smoke already lingering in the air.
Theodore and Mattheo were there.
“You’re late,” Mattheo said, leaning back against the railing, cigarette between his fingers.
“It’s been a long day,” YN replied, moving to stand beside them.
“That’s because you’re Head Girl now,” he grinned. “Responsibility looks terrible on you.”
“Give it a week,” she said. “I’ll find some fifth year to delegate everything to.”
Theodore snorted, flicking ash over the edge. “Try-outs tomorrow. Then a match against Hufflepuff on Saturday lunchtime.”
“I heard,” YN said. “Planning to embarrass yourself?”
Mattheo scoffed. “Keep your negativity to yourself, love. We’re winning this year.”
“You say that every year.”
“Well, statistically speaking, it's pretty likely that one year I’ll be right.”
“Statistically? Oh, please, Riddle, we know for a fact you got an acceptable in arithmetic last year.” YN rolled her eyes, moving closer to the fire in the middle of the floor.
He grinned. “Oh don't be like that with me.”
“Merlin, why is he even here. You never mentioned we were babysitting, Theo.”
Theodore laughed properly at that, shaking his head.
Mattheo put out his cigarette, pushed himself upright, stretching his arms over his head. “As if I'd spend my night with you anyway, YLN. I have a sexy little blonde waiting for me somewhere in the castle. I’m heading down.”
“Blonde? Who?,” YN replied. Her mind ran to Pansy. She was sure the two of them were messing around. If they were, did she know he was also seeing other girls?
Putting his finger to his lips as though it was the most important secret, he turned to disappear down the stairs, "Don’t fall over the edge... my big brother would be so devastated."
Silence settled. She refused to acknowledge his stupid remarks. In fact, she wanted to ignore any thought of Tom entirely.
YN leaned her elbows against the stone, looking out over the grounds.
“Have you noticed anything… off about him?” she asked, her tone casual.
Theodore glanced sideways at her. “Who?”
She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the stone.
“Just… well, I'm not really sure. But something feels different.”
Theodore considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “He’s always been different.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He looked at her more carefully this time. His expression was serious, and YN knew what he was thinking. He was fearful that she was going to fall back into Tom's tricks. Fall back under his manipulation.
“No. I haven't noticed anything. Why?”
“Just asking.” YN flashed him a small smile, trying to dismiss the concern etched into his brow.
He held her gaze for a second longer, then let it go.
“Maybe you’re just paying more attention,” he said.
But it didn’t feel like that.
Mattheo found Tom later that night in the common room.
Tom didn't even lift his gaze from the book in his lap. "Well?"
“She was up in the tower,” Mattheo said casually, dropping into the chair across from him.
Tom still didn’t look up. “Was she?”
A pause. Now the younger Riddle had his attention.
“Did she say anything interesting?”
Mattheo shrugged. “Not really. Just Quidditch. Harassing me. The usual.”
Tom’s eyes lifted slightly. “Nothing else?”
Another pause. “Let me know if that changes.”
Mattheo smirked faintly. “You’re obsessed.”
Tom didn’t laugh. "Keep an eye on her, and I'll make it worth your while."
Later in his dorm, Tom stood alone near the window, looking into the depths of the Black Lake, the castle quiet around him.
His wand rested loosely between his fingers as he began to think up a plan. He wasn't going to stand around and watch Nott poison YN's mind. He wasn't going to let Nott fill her little head with lies or make her believe that Tom didn't love her... or that Tom wasn't what was best for her.
The thought of it made his fist clench around the wood before he released again.
He didn’t need to use much magic. He knew his way around her mind like it was the back of his hand. He knew just how to get what he wanted.
Not control in the way others understood it. Just memory placed at the right moment. A feeling sharpened just enough to linger.
He didn’t even need to create anything new. Everything he needed was already there, in her mind. In her heart. He simply guided it.
And so, he closed his eyes, focusing his mind on her.
On the sound of her laugh when she forgot herself. The feeling of her curled against his chest in the early hours of the morning. The way her fingers used to trace absent patterns against his arm while she read beside him in silence.
His wand lifted slightly. A quiet pulse of magic spread from the tip, invisible as it disappeared into the stillness of the room.
Tom concentrated carefully, deliberately weaving the feeling into her mind. Not enough to alarm her. Not enough to make it obvious.
Just enough for her to think of him when she lay down to sleep.
Enough for his voice to echo in the back of her mind when someone else made her laugh.
Enough for her chest to ache with something warm and familiar every time she remembered what it felt like to be loved by him.
A faint breath left him as he lowered the wand again. He was satisfied that this would work because, in truth, YN had never been particularly good at letting him go.
All he had to do was remind her why.
The weekend came quickly.
The stands were packed, green and silver flooding one side as Slytherin took to the pitch. The energy was alive.
YN leaned forward slightly, her eyes tracking the movement overhead.
“Ten galleons on Slytherin,” Pansy said.
“You say that like it’s guaranteed.”
“Maybe if that meathead Mattheo wasn't on the team," she rolled her eyes, "But still, I believe in our boys. I bet ten galleons Mattheo causes a fight"
"Oh, you're so on for that."
The match was fast. Aggressive.
Mattheo flew like he fought. Reckless. Relentless. Draco sharp and precise. Blaise smooth in a way that made everything look effortless. Theodore steady, controlled, exactly where he needed to be at all times.
They won. Of course they did.
The stands erupted with house songs and cheers for the students in green.
The walk back to the castle was loud, full of laughter and shouting, energy spilling over from the match. “You were decent,” YN said to Theodore.
Just as Theodore went to open his mouth to respond, he got tugged back by Enzo, who was trying to point out some Hufflepuff girl.
YN kept walking, a smile spread on her face.
A boy from Ravenclaw fell into step beside her. “YLN, right?”
She glanced at him. “Depends who’s asking.”
He laughed. “Ah, so you do know who I am. That makes this all the more easier... I was wondering if you’d want to hangout sometime.”
YN raised a brow, tilting her head slightly. “You’re asking me on a date?”
“I said hanging out, but if you're asking me on a date, then my answer is of course. How about we say the library, 7pm?”
He was cheeky, she'd give him that. And so, she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips.
“The library? Is that the best you've got?”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
A pause. “Fine,” she said. “One hour.”
They parted at the entrance.
Tom didn't go to the match. He thought Quidditch was a pathetic excuse for people to glorify violence under the guise of school spirit.
So instead, he paced the common room.
The fire crackled low against the dark stone walls, casting flickering shadows across the leather couches and green velvet armchairs scattered throughout the room. Most students were still making their way back from the Quidditch pitch, probably lingering about to celebrate Slytherin’s win, leaving the dungeon unusually empty.
His sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, tie loosened slightly from where he had tugged at it for the last twenty minutes. Every now and then, he glanced toward the entrance of the common room before looking away again.
Mattheo stepped through first, broom slung lazily over his shoulder. There was dried blood smeared across the collar of his Quidditch jumper and a fresh split across his knuckles.
Tom’s eyes narrowed immediately. “What happened to your hand.”
Mattheo looked down lazily. “Montgomery mouthed off. I corrected him.”
Tom shut the book in his lap with a dull thud. “Where is she?”
Mattheo smirked slightly at the lack of subtlety. “I played great, thank you for asking, brother. Yes, we won, actually!”
Mattheo dropped the grin, huffing. “Relax. She’s behind me somewhere with Theo and the others.”
Mattheo's movements froze slightly, something Tom noticed immediately. Their dark eyes locked as Mattheo thought carefully about his next words.
Tom’s expression didn’t change immediately, but something colder settled behind his eyes.
“Ravenclaw bloke. Walters, I think.” Mattheo dropped into the armchair opposite him with a groan. “Tall. Bit annoying.”
Tom said nothing. Mattheo watched him carefully now, any trace of amusement fading from his face as the silence stretched longer than it should have.
He could feel Tom's anger radiating across the common room. “Think they’re meeting in the library.”
Honestly, Mattheo didn't know why he was still talking. Maybe an attempt to break the suffocating silence. Maybe because he was slightly scared of Tom.
Tom leaned back slowly against the couch, jaw tightening slightly as his fingers tapped once against the armrest.
Mattheo shrugged. “Looked like it.”
The temperature in the room seemed to shift. Mattheo noticed it immediately, shifting where he stood. “Don't do this, Tom,” he muttered.
Tom’s gaze lifted slowly to meet his. “Do what?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
A humourless smile tugged at the corner of Tom’s mouth. “Do enlighten me.”
“You act like she’s still your girlfriend.”
The words landed heavily between them.
Mattheo expected harsh words. What he didn't expect was to see Tom's hand slip into his robes, grabbing his wand.
Tom simply stared at him, twisting the sleek wand in his fingers.
“That’s because,” he said carefully, “she is still mine.”
Tom stood so quickly that the sound of his movements echoed off the stone walls. The movement alone was enough to send a wave of fear through Mattheo’s body.
“She walked away,” Tom corrected, voice low and measured. “There’s a difference.”
“You wouldn’t understand the difference.” Silence followed.
The fire crackled sharply beside them.
Mattheo studied his brother more carefully now, the irritation slowly giving way to something more uncertain because Tom didn’t look angry.
Anger was easy to recognise. This was something else. Something scarier.
“You know she hates being controlled,” Mattheo said quietly.
Tom’s expression darkened almost imperceptibly. “You think this is about control?”
A humourless breath left Tom’s nose.
“She spent two years building her entire life around me,” he said. “You think she suddenly woke up one morning and stopped loving me?”
“That’s not what happened and you know it.”
“She’s confused,” he continued calmly. “That’s all.”
Mattheo frowned slightly. “Tom, what is it exactly that you plan to do?”
“What happens if she actually moves on?”
Tom’s jaw tightened. “She won’t.”
The portrait door opened again before Mattheo could answer. Voices spilt in from the corridor outside. Fourth-year girls in fits of giggles as Draco flirted with them.
YN descended the staircase, heading towards the girls’ dormitories. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, her dark skirt swaying softly against her legs as she crossed toward the far side of the room.
Tom’s gaze locked onto her instantly.
Mattheo looked between the two of them and muttered, “Oh, Merlin save me.”
YN barely glanced at Mattheo as she approached, her voice dripping with indifference “You’re bleeding on the furniture again.”
He looked down. “Adds character.”
Then her eyes shifted, landing on Tom. Their eyes met instantly, and her stomach tightened immediately, though she refused to let it show.
“Busy?” he observed smoothly.
Her expression didn’t change. “Not particularly.”
“I heard you've found yourself a new study partner.”
YN's eyes shot to Mattheo, who suddenly found a great interest in the floor. “It’s called being helpful.”
His gaze lingered on the sarcastic smile on her face before drifting back up to her sharp eyes. “You move on quickly.”
Her jaw tightened. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
Tom tilted his head slightly, studying her with that same calm intensity that always made her feel like he was seeing too much.
“The other night,” he said quietly, “you could barely stand to look away from me... And now you’re letting another boy take you on study dates.”
Mattheo’s eyes widened at both the bluntness and disdain in his brother's voice.
“You don’t get an opinion on it.”
“No?” His voice remained perfectly level. “Interesting.”
Her cheeks flushed in anger as she turned abruptly, making her way to her dorm to get ready.
The library was pretty much empty on a Saturday night.
The towering shelves seemed darker somehow, shadows stretching between rows of books as candlelight flickered low against the polished wood. Most students had already left by the time YN arrived, leaving only a handful scattered across the room pretending to study while exchanging whispers behind raised books.
Adrian was already there.
He looked up as she approached, smiling easily as he pushed a chair out for her with his foot. “You actually came.”
“I was fully prepared to be stood up.”
YN slid into the seat across from him, placing her books down neatly. “That would’ve been rude.”
“And yet, somehow, I think you’d survive the guilt.”
He laughed softly, shaking his head before opening the textbook in front of him. “Right then, Head Girl. Save me from failing.”
For the first half hour, they actually studied.
Adrian was clever enough to keep up with her, though nowhere near her level, and confident enough not to be intimidated by it. He made her laugh more than she expected him to, mostly because he wasn’t trying very hard.
“You’re staring at me like I’m stupid,” he said eventually, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s because you’re intellectually beneath me.”
He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Cruel.”
She giggled at his dramatics and general charm.
“I’m beginning to understand why people find you intimidating.”
YN smirked faintly, resting her chin against her hand. “Only beginning?”
“I thought it was exaggerated.”
“I think they were underselling it.”
Another laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
It felt… easy. The complete opposite of what she was used to.
No pressure. No intensity simmering beneath every word. No constant feeling of being scrutinised or understood too deeply.
Just simple conversation.
By the time Madam Pince announced the library was closing, YN was almost disappointed.
“Looks like your tutoring career is over,” Adrian said, gathering his things.
“You say that now, but when I fail my next assignment, I’m blaming you personally.”
“It won't keep me up at night, Walters.”
He smiled again as they stepped out into the corridor together. “I’d walk you back, but Ravenclaw curfew is in ten minutes and I quite enjoy not being yelled at.”
“How responsible of you.”
They slowed near the staircase. For a moment, he hesitated.
“We should do this again.”
YN tilted her head slightly. “Study?”
“That depends,” he replied smoothly. “Are you always this charming?”
A quiet laugh escaped her. “Goodnight, Adrian.”
She turned before he could say anything else, the faint smile still lingering on her lips as she made her way down the corridor alone.
The castle was quieter now. Most students had disappeared back to their common rooms, leaving only the occasional flicker of torchlight against the stone walls and the echo of distant footsteps somewhere far below.
YN adjusted the sleeves of the jumper as she walked. It swallowed her hands slightly, dark green fabric hanging loosely from her frame.
She should have stopped wearing it months ago.
“You’re stealing my clothes now?” Tom asked, watching her from where he sat sprawled across the leather sofa in the Slytherin common room.
YN glanced down at the jumper before shrugging lazily. “You left it in my dorm.”
“I left it there one time.”
“And now it lives with me.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Why is it that you like wearing my things?”
Tom stood slowly, crossing the room until he stopped directly in front of her. His fingers hooked lightly on the loose fabric, tugging her closer.
“Do you wear it when you miss me?”
Her breath caught slightly despite herself. “You’re unbelievably arrogant.”
“Mm,” he murmured as she went up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips.
The memory hit her so suddenly that she nearly stopped walking. YN tightened her grip on the books in her arms, forcing herself forward.
Then she turned the corner and froze.
Leaning back against the stone wall like he had been waiting for hours.
The sleeves of his dark shirt were rolled slightly, eyes lifting slowly toward her as she stopped in the middle of the corridor.
The faint smile that had lingered on her face disappeared immediately.
Silence stretched tightly between them as his eyes lowered to the jumper.
Something dark flickered behind his gaze.
“Don’t,” she warned, trying to walk past him.
Tom was quick, though. He grabbed her wrist, swiftly pulling her to be flush against his chest, their faces inches from one another.
“You looked like you had fun.”
Tom’s fingers tightened slightly around her wrist. “I don’t like it.”
“No.” His voice dropped lower. “You don’t get to stand there wearing my jumper and act confused about why another man touching you bothers me.”
Her eyes flashed instantly. “I’m not confused, Tom. I just don’t care.”
The lie tasted bitter the second it left her mouth.
Something in his jaw tightened.
“You don’t care?” he repeated quietly, like he was testing the words for flaws.
His grip on her wrist loosened just slightly, only to slide higher up her arm instead. Not to hurt her. Just to hold her there.
“You’re wearing my clothes,” he said, voice calm in a way that felt far more dangerous than anger. “You still sleep in my jumper. You still look at me like I'm some kind of God, and I’m supposed to believe you don’t care?”
YN’s pulse hammered violently beneath her skin. She would place money on the fact that he could hear it.
“I look at you because you make it impossible not to,” she snapped. “You’re everywhere. You make it your business to be everywhere, Tom, all the time.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, so you noticed.”
“You do this constantly. You push and push and push until I feel like I’m losing my mind," she hissed.
Tom’s eyes darkened slightly. “No,” he said softly. “I do it to remind you.”
His gaze dragged slowly across her face as he raised his hand to carefully caress her flushed cheeks. “What you really want.”
The words made something twist painfully in her chest.
“And you’re pretending like you're over this... over us”
“You are,” he cut in smoothly. “Because if you were truly over me, none of this would affect you.”
YN let out a sharp breath, shoving hard against his chest. “Maybe I’m just tired of you acting like you own me.”
“You say that,” he murmured, stepping closer again, “but every time someone else gets too close to you, you look at me afterwards.”
Her stomach dropped. He was right, and they both knew it.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
Something flickered across his expression then. Fast enough that she almost missed it.
Not hurt, but rather something darker.
“No,” he replied quietly. “You hate that I know you.”
The corridor suddenly felt suffocatingly small. YN tried pulling away again, but Tom’s hand slid from her arm to her waist instinctively, like his body remembered the movement before he even thought about it.
That familiar touch nearly unravelled her on the spot.
“I can't bear that you let him flirt with you.”
“Oh my god,” she laughed bitterly, “you cannot be serious.”
“You smile at him like he actually makes you happy... laugh as if he's actually funny.”
“Should I apologise for acting normal?”
“You should apologise for acting interested.”
“I was interested,” she shot back, purely to wound him.
And as she expected, it worked. His expression shifted instantly, the hand at her waist tightened, dangerously close to bruising.
“There it is,” she whispered, anger flaring hotter now. “That’s exactly why I left you.”
Tom leaned down slightly, his face now so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
“And yet,” he murmured, “you’re still here.”
The words hit harder than they should have because no matter how many times she walked away from him, she always stopped when he asked her to. And she hated herself for it.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes, dark and impossibly intense. YN could feel her pulse pounding violently beneath her skin, could see the cogs turning in his mind.
But before she could react, he dove forward, closing the already small gap.
The kiss wasn’t soft or hesitant.
It was entirely desperate.
It was the kind of kiss that came from the years of unresolved tension and words neither of them knew how to say properly. The two years of dating, facing incredibly high highs and horrifically low lows. His hand slid firmly against her jaw as he pulled her impossibly closer, like he was scared she might disappear on him.
And Merlin... She kissed him back.
Like her body betrayed her before her mind even had the chance to catch up.
A quiet sound escaped her throat as his mouth moved against hers, all familiar heat and possession and devastation. The books slipped slightly in her grasp, pressed awkwardly between them as Tom backed her against the cold stone wall.
His fingers tangled briefly into her hair, tilting her head back just enough to deepen the kiss, and suddenly every lonely night, every forced attempt to move on, every stupid effort to convince herself she was over him came crashing down around her.
This was the problem. Tom consumed her entirely, and he knew it.
The kiss slowed only slightly as his forehead rested briefly against hers, both of them breathing unevenly into the narrow space between them.
“You see?” he murmured softly, almost breathless now. “You can lie to everyone else, YN. But not to me.”
Reality crashed back into her all at once.
YN shoved hard against his chest, breaking away so suddenly that the sound of her breathing echoed sharply through the corridor.
Her lips were red. Her chest rising too quickly as her back stayed pressed against the cold wall.
Tom looked far too composed in comparison, though his grip at her waist remained firm like he still hadn’t fully let himself believe she was there.
“What is wrong with you?” she whispered.
Something dangerous flickered behind his eyes. He took a step closer again, slowly this time. His fingers brushed lightly against the sleeve of the jumper she wore.
“You know what? Maybe I should let you keep it... I know you like to sleep in it when you miss me.”
Her breath caught sharply.
The exact words from the memory. The exact tone. Like he had reached directly into her head and pulled it back out.
Fear flickered briefly beneath the anger now.
“You need to stop doing that.”
His brows furrowed slightly. “Doing what?”
“That.” Her voice dropped. “Going inside my head.”
For the first time all evening, Tom went still.
And in that silence, YN realised something horrifying: He wasn’t confused by the accusation, he was deciding how much to admit.
“I don't know what you're talking about. I can't help it if you think about me, love,” he said quietly.
Her stomach twisted violently. “Tom—”
“You loved me enough to make space for me there,” he continued calmly, fingers still resting against her waist. “That doesn’t just disappear because you’re angry.”
“You don’t get to manipulate me into loving you again.”
A cold smile appeared. "I don’t have to manipulate you,” he murmured. “You never stopped.”
