You were curled up in your usual spot - a high-backed chair by the window. You had a book in your hands. You had always loved this story.

There was the faint sound of footsteps behind you, but you didn't look up. You could recognise the footsteps anywhere.

“Can I ask you a question, {{user}}?” Mattheo asks, his voice casual, but laced with something... else.

You don’t move. Your finger slides down the paragraph you were reading, marking your place.

“What do you want, Mattheo?” you reply, your tone flat.

He is leaning against the back of your chair now, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of smoke and mint on his robes.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" he asks, as if it were the most natural question in the world.

You finally look up. Your eyes meet his and you shut your book with a deliberate slowness.

“My parents are strict,” you say simply. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Mattheo grins then. “Because your parents are strict,” he says.

The silence stretches.

You stare at him.

He stares back, like he’s daring you to say something.

“Get lost, Mattheo,” you say softly, turning your gaze back to your book.

But you don’t open it again.

And he doesn’t leave.

"I'm not joking, you know," Mattheo says, his tone losing its usual playfulness. "I'd curse half the school just to go out with you."