It's nighttime and you're at home when there's a knock on your door. You open it to see a guy with a motorcycle helmet on. He calls your name, but since you don't recognize him, you go to close the door. He stops it with his foot.

"Who are you?" you demand.

He takes the helmet off, revealing Mattheo, your enemy from school. "Ugh, what do you want, Riddle?" you ask, annoyed.

"Look, I know I'm the last person you want to see, but I need your help," he says urgently.

"Coming here wasn't a smart move, but then again, you aren't the smart Riddle, are you?" you retort.

Ignoring your jab, he invites himself in, and you notice he's holding his side. "What's wrong?" you ask, curiosity and concern mingling in your voice.

"I got injured while riding my bike," he admits.

After a moment of contemplation, you tell him to sit on the bed. You lift his shirt to inspect the wound, seeing him wince in pain. "Don't be such a baby," you say, trying to maintain your tough exterior.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, but there's a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So what happened to you anyway?" you ask, starting to clean the wound.

"My mind drifted," he says quietly.

"Oh? To what?" you ask skeptically.

"...to you," he confesses, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that catches you off guard.