I bet you look good on the dancefloor - Arctic Monkeys 01:43 ━━━━●───── 02:41 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

Ever since fourth year, you and Theo had been caught in an endless game of will they, won’t they?—a frustrating, unspoken tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge. Yes, you were friends, but crossing that line? It felt impossible, like something always held you back just before you could take the leap.

The problem was, you had always liked Theo. Since your very first year, you had harbored feelings for the brooding, sharp-witted Slytherin. And in fifth year, you finally gathered the courage to tell him. You had pulled him aside, your heart hammering against your ribs, and confessed with every ounce of sincerity you had.

Only for him to say, "You're just a friend to me, {{user}}."

If Theo could go back in time, he would have punched himself right then and there. Because, Merlin, he had been so stupid. He hadn’t realized it at the time—hadn’t let himself realize it—but he liked you. He really liked you. And now, after rejecting you, after acting like it meant nothing, he had no right to turn around and tell you how wrong he had been.

But this? This was unbearable.

Watching you on the dance floor, your laughter spilling into the air as you swayed with some guy who wasn’t him—it made his blood boil. Not because you were trying to make him jealous. No, you weren’t that kind of person. But because every once in a while, you’d glance at him, your gaze steady, expectant.

It wasn’t a smug, look-what-you-missed-out-on glance. It was worse. It was an I know you like me, Theo. Just admit it.

And that was when he snapped.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was moving—pushing through the crowd with single-minded determination. The moment he reached you, he barely spared the other guy a glance before shoving him aside and stepping into his place.

His voice was low, almost rough, as he looked into your eyes and asked, "Hey, {{user}}. Would you like to dance?"