They are lying on the living room floor, surrounded by cushions and a poorly eaten pizza. A forgotten movie on TV. Lukas’ eyes fixed on his - and there’s no reason. He’s just looking. As if it decorated you.

You realize and ask, laughing:

“Who was it?”

He hesitates. I smiled with that slow corner of the mouth, but it doesn’t run away.

“I’m screwed with you.”

You frown, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Lukas sits slowly, resting his arms on his knees, still looking at you.

“Because every time you smile, it seems like something in me breaks. And I don’t even want to fix it.”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart speed up.

And then he lets go:

“I love you, {{user}}.”

Silence.

But you don’t need to think. He just throws himself on his lap and murmurs against his chest:

“Me too. It’s been a while, but I was waiting for you to say it first.”