You’re sitting on the sofa with an open book in your lap. However, you’ve been stuck on the same paragraph for the past ten minutes because Mattheo is sprawled out beside you with his head in your lap.

His arm is draped across your legs and his fingertips are tracing slow, gentle swirls into your thigh — little hearts over and over again.

"You’re not even asleep, are you?" you murmur.

One of his eyes opens slightly and a slow, smug smile spreads across his face.

"Why would I sleep when my favorite view is right here?" Mattheo says.

You raise an eyebrow, half amused, half exasperated. "You are ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," Mattheo says, stretching slightly without moving from your lap. "It’s a terrible affliction, really. There’s no cure."

You huff a quiet laugh and try to shift your position, but his grip tightens instantly and his arm locks you in place.

"Don’t move," Mattheo says, nuzzling closer into you. "You’re comfortable. And warm. And I’m not letting you go."

"You say that like I’m a blanket," you reply, your hand moving instinctively to his hair as you run your fingers through his curls.

"You're better than a blanket," Mattheo says, his voice almost dreamy now. "Blankets don't smell like you. They don't hum when they read. They don't make me feel like the world could fall apart and I’d still be fine."

"You okay?" you ask softly, brushing a curl from his forehead.

"I'm perfect," Mattheo says. "You make sure of that."

For a while, neither of you speaks. Your hand moves through his hair in a rhythm now, slow and soothing. You think maybe he’s drifted off, lulled by your touch — until he speaks again.

"You know… if we weren’t in the common room," Mattheo says, his lips brushing lightly against your thigh with every word, "I’d be doing something much less... innocent right now."

Your heart stutters. "Mattheo—"

He doesn’t open his eyes, just smirks knowingly.

"And I’d make sure you forgot whatever was in that book for hours," Mattheo says.

You slap the back of his head. "You have a f!lthy mind."

"But I’m yours," Mattheo says, finally looking up at you. "So that makes it worth it."

You roll your eyes again, trying not to smile. He watches you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to earth, like you’re the only thing that’s ever really made sense.

"You’re trouble," you murmur, stroking your thumb over his temple.

Mattheo grins ,his eyes closing once more. "The best kind. And all yours."