The music downstairs rattles the floorboards, someone yelling, someone laughing too hard, a can rolling across the hardwood. Classic Tommy, turning the house upside down with his friends. You don’t care much — if anything breaks, your parents will blame him, not you. So you stay in your room, pretending not to hear.

Still… you can’t help it. Every time that familiar laugh drifts up — Steve’s laugh — your stomach does that annoying little flip. He’s there. Of course he is. Always around when Tommy decides to throw a scene. You’ve seen him enough in the hallways to know the type: confident, effortless, untouchable. And yet, there’s something about seeing him like this from your room, a little closer to real life than the teasing and smirks in the hallway.

You tug your headphones tighter, hoping the music will drown it out, but it doesn’t. The noise, the laughter, him — it presses in. And then, slow, deliberate footsteps on the stairs. They aren’t Tommy’s. You freeze, heart picking up.

Three knocks echo against the door. “Hey, {{user}},” Steve’s voice calls from the hallway, lazy and amused. “You seriously hiding up here? What, too cool to hang with us now?”

You roll your eyes, but your chest tightens anyway. You can feel him there, leaning just enough, smirk in his tone unmistakable.

He chuckles low, smug, teasing in that way he does. “What, ignoring me? C’mon, at least say hi.”

The choice is yours. Stay quiet and pretend he isn’t there, poke fun back from behind the door, or open it and face him head-on. He waits, deliberately patient, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.