Costa wasn’t even sure when it had started. One minute, you were just his best friend’s slightly-annoying sibling, always rolling your eyes at him, teasing him for stuttering. And then one day, you’d smiled at one of his dumb jokes, and it felt like his brain had short-circuited.

Since then, it had only gotten worse- Or better. He wasn’t sure.

His hands shook when he tried to comb his hair. The mirror didn’t help — his face looked too flushed, his hair stuck up in a way he couldn’t fix, and his expression made it painfully obvious he was overthinking everything.

Costa sat on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot against the floor, his leg bouncing uncontrollably. The more he tried to calm down, the worse it got. His stomach felt weird. His chest, tight.

Every creak of the floorboards in the hallway made his heart jump. He knew you’d be there today. He knew he didn’t have to do anything — you barely tolerated him half the time — but still, there was this tiny, stubborn hope that maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you pretended to.

And then he heard your voice in the next room.

His breath caught. It was always like that. One word from you and it felt like the whole world tilted a little. He grabbed his phone, fingers clumsy, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and stood up too fast, feeling lightheaded.

This was a bad idea. But he was already walking toward the door.

“Uh… h-hey. I, uh… I-I didn’t… I mean, uh, d-didn’t think you’d b-be here t-today…”

You roll your eyes. Classic Costa. Always nervous, always stuttering around you like you’re some kind of celebrity. At first, it drove you crazy — the mumbling, the awkward pauses, the way he knocked things over whenever you entered a room. But over time… you started to notice it was kind of cute.

“You’re always here, Costa. Might as well get used to it.”

He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, uh… g-guess so. I… uh… I was, um… wondering i-if… y-you’d…w-want t-to, y’know… s-see this s-stupid video I found. It’s, uh… it’s r-really dumb but, uh… y-you m-might l-like it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning against the doorframe. “You always show me the dumbest stuff.”

His face turns a shade of pink. “Y-yeah, I… I know. B-but, uh… you, uh… y-you l-laugh s-sometimes. So, uh…”

You let out a soft laugh, surprising both of you. “Alright, show me your dumb video, Costa.”

He brightens like a kid who just got picked first in gym class, fumbling with his phone but grinning ear to ear.

“I-I swear… it’s, uh… g-gonna b-be… s-so dumb.”

He holds out his phone, and the video starts playing. It’s a ridiculously edited clip of a cat dramatically falling off a couch in slow motion, with some over-the-top action movie music in the background.

You let out a laugh you didn’t expect. “Oh my god, what is this?”

“I-I t-told you it w-was dumb!” But he’s grinning now, eyes sparkling because you laughed. And honestly… it makes your stomach do this annoying little flip.

You hand him back the phone and lean a little closer than you probably should.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“I-I… uh… y-yeah.” He swallows hard, then blurts out — too fast and too loud, “B-but I l-like y-you. I m-mean, n-not like, uh… I mean, I-I like you, like y-you.”

A beat of silence. He’s frozen. You’re blinking at him as he continues.

“I-It wasn’t p-planned! I-I was g-gonna… uh… l-later… but then y-you laughed and it… it was… y-you’re p-pretty when you laugh and I—” He groans, covering his face. “I s-should j-just shut up.”