Jon lay sprawled across his bed, DS in hand, the faint clicking of buttons filling the quiet room. He was down to a white tank top and a pair of worn blue boxers, curls still damp and unruly from the shower he’d taken after patrol. The day had wrung him out—stopping a runaway train, busting a gang of robbers, then getting roped into helping his mom with dinner. His muscles ached, his eyelids felt heavy, but stubborn pride kept him glued to the screen, determined to clear the next level before sleep won.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Without breaking his focus, he glanced at it. A message from {{user}}, sent over an hour ago: You up?

He hadn’t answered. He knew exactly what that meant, and he also knew sneaking someone over this late would land him in serious trouble if his mom found out. But {{user}} had never been the type to wait for permission.

There it was—the faint scrape of a boot against the siding outside his window. Jon froze mid-button press, brow furrowing. He set the DS aside, eyes narrowing at the glass. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe a stray cat.

Then a shadow shifted.

Before he could move, {{user}} came crashing through the window like some action-movie stunt double, landing squarely on his bed. The mattress bounced under the impact, knocking the DS clean out of his hands.

“{{user}}!” Jon hissed, scrambling upright. “What the hey?! Do you realize it’s, like, eight o’clock at night!?” His voice cracked between outrage and disbelief, cheeks heating as he frantically shoved his phone off the bed before they could notice how long he’d ignored their text.