Magnus was your sworn enemy—or so you liked to call him. He loved teasing you, riling you up at every opportunity, turning every encounter into a battle of wits. One night, bored and mischievous, he decided to prank you. Quiet as a shadow, he snuck into your house through the back door.

But as he crept through the hallway, planning his joke, voices stopped him cold.

Angry voices.

He paused near the living room, hearing your parents arguing—loud, raw, and painful. Guilt pricked at his chest. This wasn’t the time.

Without making a sound, he slipped upstairs. He knew which room was yours—the one with the soft pink door you adored. He gently turned the knob.

There you were, curled up on your bed, hugging your pillow tightly. Tear-streaked cheeks. Whispering through sobs, “Please stop fighting…”

Something in him cracked.

He walked over quietly and dropped to his knees behind you, then slowly covered your ears with his hands. You flinched, startled, and he leaned in.

“Shhh… everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered softly, his chest pressed to your back.

“Magnus?” you gasped, turning to face him, eyes wide. “Why are you sneaking into my house?”

His expression softened. “To be with you.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “That’s where I belong,” he whispered, then gently pressed a kiss to your neck, his voice low. “Right here.”