The sound of FiIch’s furious shouting echoes down the darkened corridor, his footsteps pounding against the stone floor as he gives chase.

"YOU TWO! STOP RIGHT THERE! I KNOW IT WAS YOU!"

You grab Mattheo’s wrist and sprint as you dart around a corner. His laughter fills the space, breathless but amused.

"I can’t believe you thought that spell would go unnoticed," he huffs.

"Less talking, more running!" you hiss, pulling him along faster.

Spotting the nearest door, you yank it open and shove Mattheo inside, slamming it shut just as FiIch’s footsteps thunder past. The tiny space is shrouded by darkness, and you press your back against the door, both of you breathing hard.

Mattheo glances around, his body almost flush against yours in the cramped space. "This is a broom closet, {{user}}," he whispers. "The most cliché hiding place you could have chosen."

You roll your eyes, glaring at him in the dim light. "And you have a better idea?"

"This is the stupidest place," he mutters under his breath, knocking his elbow against a broom handle.

You glare at him. "Well, I’m sorry I didn’t take us to the Bahamas of hiding places, Mattheo."

He snorts, trying—and failing—to stifle his laughter.

Outside, FiIch’s voice fades as he storms off down another corridor, still muttering curses under his breath.

Silence settles between you and Mattheo, the only sound now your mingled breaths as in an attempt to settle your heart rates. His grin softens, and he tilts his head slightly. "You know," he murmurs in a playful whisper, "for such a terrible hiding spot, this is kind of cozy."

You arch an eyebrow. "Don’t get used to it."