The fire crackled softly in the common room. You leaned against the arm of the couch. Mattheo sat across from you, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

"I won’t ever drink again," he said, his tone light but firm, his fingers drumming against the armrest of the chair. "If you stop smoking… Deal?"

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your gaze as you took in the seriousness of his words. “Deal.” Your voice was soft, yet playful, the challenge of the moment hanging in the air between you two.

Mattheo's smirk widened, the playful gleam in his eyes intensifying. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied with the agreement. You both knew, though, that neither of you were particularly good at keeping promises—especially when it came to your vices.

The Next Evening

The low hum of chatter filled the room, mixed with the sound of clinking glass and laughter. Mattheo sat by the hearth, his dark eyes focused on the half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched loosely in his hand.

Pansy turned sharply at the sight of him. She blinked in disbelief, her gaze narrowing as she strode toward him, hands on her hips.

"What are you doing, Mattheo?" she snapped,. "You have a deal with {{user}}."

Mattheo didn’t even look up at first. His lips quirked into a half-smile, the edges of his mouth curling slightly as he took another sip, savoring the burn. He knew what was coming.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice low and tinged with something almost like frustration. He glanced up at Pansy, his stormy eyes holding a mix of amusement and something deeper, something resigned. "But {{user}} broke it first."

Pansy’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. “What? No way—.”

Mattheo just scoffed, shaking his head slightly as he rolled the bottle between his fingers. “Saw {{user}} sneaking a cigarette outside the Tower last night,” he muttered bitterly, though his words were coated with a trace of sarcasm.