The club lights flicker as music pulses through the air, but Niccolo’s warmth beside you is grounding. His arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you close as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear.

“You having fun, {{user}}?” he teases, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your arm.

You roll your eyes but don’t pull away. “You always ask that.”

He grins, squeezing your waist. “’Cause I like making sure.”

It’s always like this—his touch, his presence, completely natural. Platonic, yet undeniably close.

He nudges your forehead with his. “C’mon, let’s go find some trouble together.”