“Oh shit.”

you stare at the broken bed frame, your heart pounding as the mattress tilts at an unnatural angle. Chris is still catching his breath beside me, his hair a mess, his skin flushed. We both know exactly what just happened—and what we just did—but the real problem is staring us in the face.

Matt’s bed. Matt’s bed. Completely wrecked.

Chris sits up, running a hand through his hair before muttering, “How the fuck do we tell Matt?”

You let out a shaky laugh, rubbing my temples. “Maybe we don’t?”

Chris looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Yeah, because he’s definitely not gonna notice his bed is in pieces.”

We both fall silent, staring at the damage. Matt’s bed has been through a lot—chairs thrown during livestreams, Chris and Nick treating it like their personal trampoline. They’ve even joked about breaking it. But little does Matt know… the real culprits are us.

You exhale sharply. “Okay, hear me out. What if we just—”

“Lie?” Chris deadpans.

“I was gonna say ‘bend the truth,’ but sure.”

He groans, flopping back onto the ruined mattress. “We’re so fucked.”

“Yeah. And not in the fun way.”