Mattheo Riddle's live always started at eight at night.

And, like every night, you were already in the chat five minutes before, waiting for the countdown to end.

The name "Riddle's biggest fan" was already known by practically everyone there.

• "She arrived first again."

• "The number one fan showed up!"

• "Mattheo, pay attention to her!"

The messages rose quickly while the black screen finally gave way to Mattheo's tired - and absurdly beautiful - face. The crooked headset, the silver chain around his neck and the dark sweatshirt were already practically his trademark.

• "Good night, chat."

The hoarse voice made the chat explode.

You sent a simple:

"Good live, Matt."

And then it happened again.

His eyes quickly went down to the chat, and a small smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

• "Thank you, princess."

The whole chat went crazy.

"PRINCESS???"

"DID HE CALL HER A PRINCESS?"

"Whose is this girl?"

"Mattheo is different when she answers..."

You felt your face burn behind the screen, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

Or maybe I could.

In recent weeks, Mattheo had started looking for his messages in the middle of thousands of comments. I answered your jokes, laughed when you implicated him for losing matches and even remembered small things you said.

You once commented that you were studying for final exams.

In the next live, he showed up a few minutes late.

• "It took me a while because I was choosing a calm playlist."

He moved the keyboard absently before completing:

• "There are people here studying while watching, right?"

His heart almost came out of his mouth.

The chat realised it immediately.

"HE'S TALKING ABOUT HER."

"This has already become flirting."

"Mattheo admits it soon!"

And, honestly... maybe it was really turning.

That night, near the end of the stream, Mattheo rested his chin on his hand while reading the chat more slowly.

Until you find your message again.

"You should rest more."

He was silent for a few seconds.

Then he smiled in a different way. Lighter. More true.

• "You always say that."

His fingers slowly hit the table.

• "I like it when you worry about me."

The chat exploded so hard that it seemed impossible to follow the messages.

But Mattheo wasn't looking at the chat at that moment.

He was just looking for an answer from you.