You sat curled up in the corner of the couch, book in hand, though you’d long since stopped reading. The night was peaceful, still—until Mattheo dropped down beside you with a quiet thud.

You glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. Something was different. His usual playful energy was muted, his fingers fidgeting against his knee.

You studied him for a moment before speaking. “Alright, what’s up with you?”

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “I—” His voice faltered for a moment before he steadied it. “I dreamed about you last night.”

You blinked, taken aback. Of all the things you expected him to say, that wasn’t on the list.

Curiosity piqued, you tilted your head. “And about what?”

Mattheo looked away, his gaze fixed on the fire, as if willing it to provide an escape. The silence stretched between you, and then—you saw it. The faintest tinge of pink creeping up his neck, dusting the tips of his ears.

Mattheo? Blushing? That was unheard of.

You shifted, turning to face him fully. “Mattheo,” you pressed. “Come on, what was it about?”

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “It’s stup!d.”

“That just makes me want to know even more.”

He exhaled through his nose, finally meeting your eyes. “It was about us,” he admitted.

Your breath caught slightly.

His jaw tensed, and he glanced away again, rubbing the back of his neck. “It—it felt real. Too real,” he murmured. “It was…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it wasn’t just a dream, it was—” He sighed, shaking his head again. “Forget it.”

But you didn’t want to forget it.

Something in his voice, in the way he couldn’t quite look at you, made your heart pound in a way you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

You reached out, placing your hand over his.

“Just… tell me the truth. Did you want it to be real?” You said softly.

His fingers slowly turned beneath yours, his palm pressing against your own.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I think I did.”