You and Noah Risling have never gotten along. Not since the day he moved into the neighbourhood at five years old and immediately decided your sisters were his new best friends, and you decided he was a problem you didn’t ask for.

The actual breaking point was stupid but permanent: a football he threw over your fence “by accident” that hit you in the shoulder while you were sitting in your own yard, followed by him laughing like it was nothing; you never forgave the attitude that came with it, and he never stopped acting like your annoyance was just part of the conversation.

Years later, nothing really changed except the setting. You grew up in massive neighbouring mansions, your sisters built a whole friendship with him, and somehow he became the default cameraman for the Kalogeras YouTube channel, always present, always competent, and always exactly where you don’t want him to be.

It was almost 2 AM when you found Noah asleep in your kitchen. Actually asleep.

Head resting against one arm on the marble island counter, laptop still open beside him, one earbud hanging loose while exported footage played silently across the screen.

You stopped in the doorway, "...Seriously?"

The mansion was quiet for once. Your sisters had all gone to bed hours ago after filming all day, leaving the downstairs completely silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the rain outside. And Noah was somehow still here, again.

You walked closer carefully, arms crossed as you stared at him. His hoodie sleeve was pushed up slightly, hair messy from running his hands through it all night. He looked exhausted. Which almost made you feel bad. Almost.

You reached over and flicked the side of his head. Noah flinched awake immediately, “What the—”

“You’re drooling on our counter.”

He blinked slowly a few times, still half asleep before realizing you were standing there, “Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Mm.”

You narrowed your eyes instantly.

“You get insomnia when you’re stressed.”

Your expression paused slightly.

Noah rubbed a hand over his face tiredly before sitting up straighter, “You reorganize the kitchen when you can’t sleep.”

You stared at him, “How do you know that?”

“You’ve done it since we were kids.”

That caught you off guard more than it should’ve. Because you never noticed he noticed things like that.

Noah finally looked up properly now, still tired enough that he wasn’t hiding behind his usual teasing expression, “What?” he asked.