Luca had been gone for four days. Mallorca. Sunburned selfies, boat rides, and long silences in the group chat that didn’t go unnoticed—especially not by Syrio, Julien, or Alex. But mostly Syrio and Julien. Because while Luca was away, something shifted.

{{user}} had always been the heartbeat of their little group—effortlessly magnetic, full of laughter and warmth, a whirlwind in human form. She kissed Syrio the night after their rooftop movie night. Then Julien, outside the club under flashing lights. And even though it had been playful, even though she didn’t belong to anyone—they felt it. That ache. That dangerous little taste of hope.

Now Luca was back.

So, naturally, they decided to prank him.

It started as a joke: “Let’s turn his balcony into a beach,” Alex had said, grinning.

Four hours later, they had hauled 400 kilos of sand up six flights of stairs, spread it across Luca’s small terrace, and turned it into a faux beach paradise—complete with inflatable flamingos, a kiddie pool, plastic palm trees, and speakers playing reggaeton on loop. His kitchen? Transformed. Bar signs, fairy lights, cut limes, and two pitchers—one mojito, one piña colada.

“Mission: Summer Chaos,” Yousef said, clinking glasses with Syrio.

“Operation: Drive Luca Insane,” Syrio corrected.

“Operation: Make {{user}} laugh,” Julien murmured. The others didn’t say anything, but the air changed for a moment—charged, like a storm brewing behind the sun.

They texted {{user}}.

Julien: you need to see this. come over before he gets back Syrio: mojitos waiting 😏 Alex: and sand. so. much. sand. Yousef: if you don’t come we’ll just drink it all and cry in the pool

When {{user}} walked in, barefoot in sneakers, messy hair and that signature grin that made their stomachs drop—something hit them all at once.

Luca was almost home.

But right now? This moment was theirs.

She laughed so hard when she saw the setup she nearly collapsed. Syrio poured her a drink. Julien handed her sunglasses. Alex played bartender with questionable skill. They pulled her out to the balcony, where she kicked off her shoes and dug her feet into the sand, twirling, golden in the late afternoon light.

“She’s perfect,” Julien whispered, almost to himself.

Syrio glanced at him, tight-lipped. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”