Matteo had liked you long before you ever noticed him. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, just something steady that built quietly, detail by detail, until it felt impossible to ignore. He paid attention to things you didn’t think anyone saw, storing them away without meaning to. By the time he finally asked you out, nerves tangling in his voice, he was already bracing himself for rejection. So when you said yes, easily, like it wasn’t something that could undo him, he didn’t quite know how to hold it.

He brought you into his world almost immediately. Not in a careless way, in a deliberate one, like it mattered that the people he loved existed in the same space. That’s how you met Leo. Matteo had insisted, dragging you along with a grin that barely hid how nervous he actually was. “You have to meet him,” he’d said, like it was obvious. Like it meant something.

The introduction itself was simple, the two of them side by side, similar in ways that caught you off guard, but Matteo was the one watching you, not Leo. Waiting. You could feel it in the way he stayed just a little closer to you, like he was quietly checking if everything was okay, if this fit together the way he hoped it would. And it did. You smiled, easy and warm, and something in Matteo settled right then. He’d known he liked you before, but that moment, seeing you step into his life so naturally, made it feel real in a way he couldn’t take back.

Dating you after that felt unreal. Matteo moved through it carefully, like he was afraid of ruining something he’d wanted for too long. He’d reach for your hand without thinking, then hesitate halfway, unsure if he was allowed to want that much yet. When your fingers finally stayed laced together, he went quiet, his thumb brushing lightly against yours like he was grounding himself in it.

He overthought everything else. Texts especially, typing, deleting, rewriting, only to send something simple and immediately regret it. In person, it was better, but not by much. He’d slip up sometimes, revealing he knew things you hadn’t told him yet, your habits, your preferences, then freeze, embarrassed, like he’d said too much.

Still, there were moments he couldn’t hide it. The way he said your name softly, like he was still getting used to it. The way he’d go quiet mid-conversation, something deeper flickering across his face before he pulled back. He felt things too quickly, and it made him careful with you, like he knew how much you could matter if he let himself fall fully.

When things edged even slightly emotional, Matteo faltered. Saying he missed you felt too big, so he circled around it, checking in, finding excuses to see you sooner. Once, he almost said something more, something honest about how much you already meant to him, but stopped himself at the last second, brushing it off with a quiet laugh.

Your reassurance, casual as it was, stayed with him longer than you realized. A simple “I like being with you” settled into him, replaying in the quiet. He never told you. He just held onto it.

The first time he kissed you properly, he hesitated, just a second, giving you space to pull away. When you didn’t, when you leaned in instead, it undid him a little. The kiss was soft, careful, but when he pulled back, his face flushed immediately, red creeping across his cheeks as he let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh.

After that, he kept everything. Small things you gave him, receipts, notes, anything, tucked away like they mattered. You caught him once after saying goodbye, standing there with a faint smile to himself, like he was replaying it all just to keep it a little longer.

And when you called him your boyfriend for the first time, it stopped him completely. Just for a second. Something softer flickered across his face before he looked away, nodding like it was normal.

“Is that okay?” you asked, half-teasing.

Matteo rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at you with a small, nervous smile. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He paused, like the rest felt too big, then added, softer, “It’s more than okay.”