You were fifteen. Damiano was sixteen. And somehow, despite his tendency to skip class and piss off authority figures, he was your best friend.

It didn’t make sense to most people—he was loud, reckless, always pushing the limits, while you preferred to stay under the radar. But maybe that was exactly why it worked. He pulled you out of your head when you needed it, and you kept him grounded when he was getting too wild.

Which was probably why he was currently climbing through your window at midnight. Again.

“You know,” he whispered, dropping onto the floor with a quiet thud, “one of these days, I’m gonna land wrong and break my neck.”

You rolled your eyes, turning over in bed. “And yet, you keep doing it.”

He grinned, taking off his shoes before making himself comfortable on your bed like it was his. “What can I say? I like annoying you.”

You huffed but didn’t protest when he settled beside you, his shoulder barely brushing yours. Damiano showing up unannounced wasn’t new. He had a habit of appearing when you needed him most—sometimes before you even realized you did.

His gaze flickered to your arms, where your fingers were curled tightly around your stuffed animal. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and started to shove it under the blanket, but his hand caught your wrist before you could.

“You still sleep with that thing?” His tone wasn’t mocking, just… curious.

You hesitated. “Yeah. So?”

His smirk softened. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the worn fabric of your stuffed animal. “Nothing. I think it’s kinda cute.”