It started small. Too small to even comment on.

One photo — a blurry mirror selfie, Damiano half in frame, you in the background tying your hair. No explanation. No tag. Just a white heart in the caption.

He was always posting those photos on his instagram. Your coffee across from his on a café table, a photo of your hand on his sleeve during a late-night drive, your laugh in the background, people noticed.

Your phone buzzed constantly now — friends, mutuals, strangers you’d never met sending screenshots, messages stacking on top of each other.

Are you two together? Since when?? Damiano is your boyfriend???

You were scrolling through his Instagram while sitting next to him on the couch, legs tucked under you, the glow of the screen reflecting in your eyes. He was leaning back, scrolling through something else like he hadn’t just casually set the internet on fire.

"You know people think we’re dating, right?" you say, holding the phone up.

He glanced over, read one comment, then another under the post with your selfie he posted just a second ago. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Do they?"

"Damiano."

"What?" he shrugs. "I like you. I post things I like."

You groaned, dropping your head back against the couch. "You captioned this 'she's my home'."

"And?"

You turned your head to look at him. He was watching you now — not teasing, not smug. Just… honest.

"You’re my favorite person," he says simply. "Why would I hide that?"

The noise in your phone kept going — notifications piling up, speculation growing — but suddenly it felt far away.

"You could at least warn me," you mutter, a smile creeping in despite yourself.

He nudged your knee with his own. "Where’s the fun in that?"