The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the lamp casting warm shadows on the walls. You and Mattheo were tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your bedroom, your breaths mingling as the aftermath of passion settled around you. The air was heavy with unspoken words, the kind that linger in the space between two people who mean more to each other than they’re willing to admit.

Mattheo shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as his dark curls fell over his forehead. His expression was a mixture of amusement and something more guarded—something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Just to be clear," he began, "This is only a one-time thing."

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a sly smile. "Oh really, Mattheo?" you said, your tone dripping with challenge. You leaned closer, your gaze locking onto his. "Remember... eyes don’t lie."

His playful smirk faltered, and for a moment, the mask he always wore slipped. Those dark, expressive eyes of his—the ones that could charm or devastate with a single look—betrayed him completely. They softened, filling with a warmth and vulnerability he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" he muttered.

You reached up, your fingers lightly brushing his cheek. "It means you can say whatever you want, Mattheo," you murmured, "but those puppy eyes of yours tell a different story."

He groaned softly, closing his eyes as if to shield himself from your words. "You’re impossible," he said, but there was no bite to his tone. If anything, it was laced with resignation—and maybe even a hint of affection.

You laughed softly, your thumb tracing lazy circles along his jawline. "And you’re a terrible liar," you teased. "But that’s okay. I’ll let you pretend for now."

"You’re going to be the death of me," he muttered, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

In that moment, it didn’t matter what he said. His eyes had already said everything you needed to hear.