matt sturniolo has always been your best friend. your families were close, practically intertwined, which meant that you and matt grew up side by side, sharing milestones, secrets, and countless inside jokes. matt had always been kind and understanding in a way that made him feel like home. no matter what was going on in your life, he always seemed to know the right thing to say—or when to just listen. conversations with him were effortless; the hours would slip away as you both laughed, argued over silly topics, or simply shared your thoughts about life.

tonight was no different. the two of you were perched on the roof of a house, a place you’d claimed as your little hideout years ago. the night air was cool, carrying the faint smell of grass and the sound of distant crickets. the stars seemed endless, scattered across the sky like glittering freckles. you both lay back on the slightly slanted roof, a plate of empanadas sitting between you. every now and then, matt would take a bite, his hand brushing yours as he passed the plate back your way.

“this is perfect,” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. his voice was soft, barely audible over the night’s quiet hum.