I Still Need You Solo Finished

Date: November 3rd, 2025

For days after the horrors of the forbidden forest Matthew was paralyzed with nothing but complete and utter terror. The young boy dared not speak for he worried that whatever he uttered might be warped by the corrupting influences he had sold himself to. Still, he knew they would not give him long, they would not allow him to be free of their tainted stain if he did not attend to their bidding. The very thought of existing made him nauseous, his stomach churning multiple times a day, so much so that he was let off of classes to rest and recover. Every thought in his head sped to match light and only added to the fog that surrounded his future actions. Matthew hadn't left his room in 2 days. It felt empty without Aamon there but he never felt alone, it was like eyes followed every step he ever made, wind blew like breath on the back of his neck and his body got the goosebumps that the elderly vowed symbolic of someone walking over your grave. They were probably right, for Matthew Campbell was as good as dead. He had made a deal with the hags and they would collect whether he fulfilled his task or not. Matthew Campbell was a dead man walking and to ask for help would only endanger those around him. So he stayed in that silence, basked in it until his tongue felt foreign to his mouth. Perhaps he would simply never speak again, after all his words always seemed to land him in the wrong place.

On the evening of November 3rd however, Matthew decided that the confines of his room, now acting more like a cell had become too much. He did not yearn for company, in truth he rarely did, but certainly he did not today. Matthew supposed their was something cathartic about dealing with things alone, but really it was just a coping mechanism he had trained himself to believe when no one was ever there to help. Most of his life the lonely little boy had himself and his father. It was a connection deeply bonded and without question eternal, but sometimes there are things that even your father can't know. After all how do you tell your own father that he might out live you, how do you reason with him that it was a noble sacrifice, how do you accept that he will hate you for robbing him of not only his wife but also his son? Or worse than all of that combined, how do you stop him from doing the same to protect you? Every single outcome regardless of anyone's actioned was going to be riddled with misfortune and stained red with bloodied pain. Of that Matthew was certain but despite all of his worry and fear, he didn't regret his decision. How could he? If he was to go back in time and not save a child in need, who would he become? How would he possibly stare at himself in the mirror ever again and not see a murderous coward? So many questions, so few answers. It was clear he was going stir-crazy so he had to get out, he had to get out now.

Meandering around Matthew lingered in hallways for students to pass, he took detour after detour in a seemingly aimless fashion all for the purposes of remaining unseen. Having not ventured out into society he wasn't sure what whispers would await his return, what poisons had been spread about him this year. The year he was supposed to be doing better, in a way, he was, but no one could know that. So instead he ducked from prying eyes and listened as droll conversation became distant echoes. Then finally he reached the castles west exit and climbed the many steps to the Owlery scaling it until the world dwelled far below and he had no company but the owls themselves. Slipping his feet over the edge he sat out one of the large windowed spaces and watched the world for a moment, taking in the last glints of dimming sunlight as they passed over the glorious Scottish moors. Even in the darkest of times, Hogwarts was never without its beauty. The changing of the clocks had now marked even early afternoon for darkness and with his new found knowledge and patrons, he couldn't help but let his eyes drift over towards the forest. Its dark menacing presence never faltered even under the golden hues of sunset. It's corruption was innate, he was sure he had felt it, but what lingered in the even darker corners was the true dread. The monsters that even that place was too timid to tackle, the monsters he had invited into him and watched split Aamon's body and soil his blood delightedly upon the earth.

Every time he closed his eyes he could still see it. The vile and vermin pouring from his body, a violation of pure evil. Then his ears would begin to ring with the harrowing echoes of that blood-curdling scream, the kind of scream that brought a person to tears, that did not just tell of pain but of hopelessness. The kind of scream only capable when a wounded being was dying, that knowing, that fear, that begging refusal. Matthew would always remember it, it would always follow him in the dark and linger in even the deadliest silence. A reminder of his choice, a branding of permanence to his binding. The snake was shackled and he didn't even know the true extent of his bonds, all he knew was that he lived with them day after day in an endless misery of knowing you had thrown away everything, yet couldn't even afford regret. Perhaps that was the true reason he had found himself here, it wasn't like his path was intentional, he just followed the direction his feet had led, but there were no accidents. Time had proven that to him. With so many thoughts in his head and no one he could burden with his chains, he had to gain some kind of release. Anything to take even the slightest inch of the weight he bore upon his shoulders, before it crushed him to oblivion; if something else didn't beat them to it.

Hey Dad,
I know you still don't get this whole owl delivery thing and that Mr Perkins is probably giving you a hard time about the constant, incessant hooting or whatever nonsense he is spouting these days but I really had to reach you. You know how this time of year always has my head frazzled but it's more than that this time.

I don't want to worry you, I really don't and it's not my intention to. So let me start out by saying that I'm fine, physically that is. Well - actually I'm a little sick at the moment but I think that has to do with the mental as well, like how I used to get tummy aches at school when I had a bad day.

I tried something stupid the other night and I know you would hate that I willingly put myself in danger, I can't even imagine the lecture I'm going to get when you finally wrangle the letter out of the owls talons. Actually I can, but, I'm telling you anyways because I think despite your annoyance, you'll know why I had to. Guess I better just come out with it...

Dad I went into the forbidden forest trying to find a thestral. On Halloween they say the border between life and death is thinner and I just thought if I could find one and connect with it that maybe I could meet her, or hear her, or something. Well to cut a long story short I didn't find her. I'm not sure she's there to find really, cause even though I needed her so desperately, like life or death desperately, she didn't show. From the stories I now know and the life we've explored of hers abroad, I can't imagine she wouldn't had she been able.

But maybe she doesn't like me either. It's not like I'm exactly big on friends. Though Sio and Alphonse are great and they would almost certainly have said hi if they knew I was writing to you. Back to the point though, I just wish you were here. I know that I'm getting older and with me being away so much we haven't exactly seen each other, at least not as much as we'd like. But I wanted to remind you that I still need you, I always will. We're each others rocks, our constants and I guess all I'm really trying to say is that no matter how old I get I'll always need my dad.

If I had to write an essay on who I admire most it would be you. Even though I'd get ridiculed by all the inbred purebloods who think magic is everything. I'd always pick you. You are not only the literal blood in my veins, but you are the heart and soul and no matter what happens to us, to me, I'll always love you beyond anything. In writing this I'm actually feeling better, I guess even when you're not here physically just thinking of you helps. Reminds me that I could never really be alone.

Well I suppose I should not pester you any further. I don't know that I'm going to be ok, but seeing you at Christmas will make it all the better - I'm sure of it! It's been far too long since we've had a proper Campbell Christmas and I hope to delight you by being as annoying as physically possible and clinging to your side as a permanent extension of you. Tell Sean I love him too and that I can't wait to see him.

For now I'll just keep trying my best like you taught me. I only ever want to make you proud, even if my decisions don't always suit that interest. I hope I do make you proud, I know you'll call me a twat for saying so, but you know how I get. I miss you dad.

Love,
Matty

Writing his pain didn't solve his issues, it wasn't some magical cure to the sickness that had muddled into his blood, but it did help. Each hazardous statement he wrote jumped around the main issues, but they talked about the root, the core of the mental pain he was experiencing. Nothing that his father would find new, but equally nothing he wouldn't still not worry over. From the moment Patrick had held the tiny little baby Matthew in his arms and nursed him on his chest, they had been inseparable. The pair knew that they would sacrifice the world for one another without a split decision. It was their strength and their curse, and was the exact reason he could never know the whole truth. See Patrick would have made the same choice in those woods as Matthew, he was a better man, a model of the man Matthew wished to one day become. There was brief comfort in the knowledge that he was following in the imagined footsteps of his father, but it didn't ease the guilt of hiding the truth from him. Of omitting the crux that he had willingly signed over the ownership of his life.

That guilt would likely never fade, and at the moment it eclipsed all else. By the time he had finished his frantic scribbles of an erratic mind the darkness had taken over the vast highlands and only the glow of the castle's light prevented him from being taken completely by the darkness. It was a place he was going to have to learn to get familiar with, the place he now belonged. Thus he must make peace with it, he had to let go of the fear that was crippling him and although the road to recovery would always have suffering he had to focus on the future. The preservation of his life was a hazy road to say the least, but there was one person he would require if there was to be any hope at all. The devil had already entered his life that night in the woods, but to banish one, he must face another. Gideon Athanatos, a bane and plight upon those that got caught up in his path. So easily could Gideon become his demise, but he was also the only hope at salvation. Sharper than a double edged sword his path was so hampered with uncertainty. To save himself from a spiral he once again took pen to paper, drafted the messy scribbles of his mind into tangible thoughts that at least resembled some more cohesion. This letter would not be sent on this day but it would be written, it would be acknowledged and more than anything, it would be a beginning. One way or another at least one of them was going to break, so the cracked boy began piecing himself back together intending on using the other to do so.

Giddy,
I'm sure you will not be surprised to receive this letter. I have no shadow of a doubt that both of us knew eventually it would come, that there would come a time where I would once again call on you. As much as I hate to admit it there is something drawing about your nature. Like the knowing that something will hurt you but the willingness to take the pain. I suppose that's what I feel.

I won't say that you feel the same way as I would not like to presume and frankly it is to hard to discern a truth from any Athanatos. Much like pulling teeth, something I'm sure you are uniquely familiar with. Still I could not help myself but scribe these emotions in writing. Maybe it is to help me contextualise them, perhaps it is in hope that I may rid myself of them through relinquishing them. Who can say if I will even send it, there are so many potentials but the necessity to write remains.

Do not trick you ego into thinking you have some kind of irresistible hold over me as I assure you, you do not. But I certainly have not forgotten our moments together, some haunting, some infuriating and some more than a little confusing. Many nights I have thought of writing this very note and denied the urge. Many days I have caught eyes with you from across the room and wondered if you were truly looking at me or just marking targets in your head.

I honestly don't know what you ever wanted from me, I don't know what seeing each other more would do but delve me deeper into the dark but one cannot only focus on their mind's belief. Sometimes the truest thing in the uncontrollable feelings, the instinctive needs. Or perhaps I have truly lost my mind and figure losing it some more wouldn't be so bad.

Anyways, if I am wrong and you do not wish to hear from me again then it will only confirm what I believe to be true. If, however, I am wrong. Send me some kind of sign, preferably not in the psychotic dead animal kind of way but, I don't know really. If what I believe I could have felt was in any way real just admit it, and if I'm simply another one of your games then admit that. I'm just looking to not feel so crazy because at the minute it's like I'm losing my mind every 5 seconds.

Who am I kidding, I'll probably never send this and I will succumb to my own failures. Regardless I need a drink after this complete shitshow of a letter. Whatever happens Giddy, I hope you're capable of being upfront. We can play games all you like, but only if I know the possible outcomes. I won't waste my time on someone incapable of offering nothing.

Stupidly,
Matthew

To say it was equal parts humiliating and dehumanising would be a just analysis of the letter. Before he could bare to look over it he quickly stuffed it away in the depths of his pocket faltering once more to that wave of nausea. In a part of himself he could not face admitting to he was sickened by the fact the letter wasn't even entirely dramatized. Matthew did feel some odd sort of connection to the boy, some draw that called to him and enticed him to follow. It was the strangest of desires and the most unhealthy of choices but he could not say it was not without truth. It would serve as a first draft, as a potential door to open for their reunion. Matthew honestly didn't know if the parchment would ever see the light of day again, wasn't aware if he would ever allow it to be sent. Not that there was much option, he had to break Gideon or he himself would submit to the will of a greater, darker power. Corruption was guaranteed, more than one soul would be broken. The moral conundrum was debilitating, he had decided that Gideon was more deserving of pain given his joy to commit it, but how would he be any different following this road. Was it enough to justify actions by simply not enjoying it. Either way someone was getting hurt. That played on his fragile heart immensely and he gladly let the tears fall to his trousers below, dotting them with traces of his guilt.

Drying his eyes on the edge of his sleeve he felt the small, gentle caress of a snowy owl as it ruffled its head into his arm with eyes so knowing and wise. The owl could not know that the reason for Matthew's pain was not noble, but still it comforted him through it. Still it showed him forgiveness and stole away his pain. It was the perfect messenger, the perfect companion to a lonely winter night. So tying the letter intended for his father to its leg he lightly patted the top of its head, stroking the ruffles in its feathers til they smoothed. Mere seconds later the owl shot off determined, gliding through the air like a snowdrop in the sky, backdropped by the delicate silvery moonlight. Campbell would continue to sit there for a while wrestling with the many futures he faced, the hardships of the decision he had chosen. This would be no easy task, not mentally or physically. Condemned to break someone, and in doing so, breaking himself.

Mentioning @Gideon Athanatos