The sun was setting over the pitch, casting a warm orange glow across the field. Mattheo soared through the sky with ease, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face as he darted around the field. Theodore, on the other hand, sat perched on the edge of the bleachers, arms crossed, watching him with a look that balanced both admiration and something else.

Mattheo had always been this way—unpredictable, captivating, the center of attention without even trying.

“You really need to stop making it look so easy,” Theodore muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“You’re just jealous you can’t pull off a goal like that, Theo,” Mattheo teased.

Theodore rolled his eyes, but there was an underlying tension in his tone when he spoke again, voice quieter, yet piercing. “It’s not about that, Mattheo.”

Mattheo arched an eyebrow. “What’s it about then? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Theo didn’t answer immediately. He shifted in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other, but his gaze never left Mattheo, who was now showing off some ridiculous trick in mid-air.

Theodore's voice was almost a whisper. “I wanted {{user}} to look at me... but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. And your stup!d hair.”

Mattheo didn’t stop grinning, but his playful smirk faltered ever so slightly as he caught Theodore’s eyes from below. There was something about his friend’s words—something that didn’t sit right with him.

“Oh? And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be distracted by her.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but his tone held that playful edge that Theodore knew well.

“You know what I mean,” Theo muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re mad because she looked at me like I’m the sun, and you’re... just you.” Mattheo smirked again.

Theodore sighed, turning away from the field for just a moment to stare at the sky. “I’m just saying, she couldn’t take her eyes off you for more than a second, and that’s not exactly a great feeling.”