Mattheo pulls his jumper over his head. His hair is messy from the cold wind outside. Theodore follows him, throwing his bag on the floor. There is a long pause while the two boys change out of their uniforms.

Mattheo’s fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

“So… did you and {{user}} do it then?” Theodore asks.

Mattheo freezes. “What?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but the slight crack in his voice betrays him.

Theodore chuckles under his breath and leans against the bedpost with his arms crossed, watching Mattheo carefully.

“You know,” Theodore says, tilting his head, “hide the cigarettes…”

Mattheo exhales sharply and finally turns to face him. He gives a small, crooked grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Oh… the cigarettes…” he says, nodding slowly. “Sure.”

Theodore narrows his eyes, amused by the obvious dodge. He smirks, picks up a sock from the floor and tosses it towards the laundry bin,

“Oh…” Theodore says with a mock-dramatic tone, “you two did even more.”

He is already halfway out of the door, clearly satisfied. He pauses at the threshold and looks back with that same knowing grin.

“Lucky b4stard,” he mutters, and then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Mattheo slowly sits down on the edge of his bed and clasp his hands between his knees. Without hesitating, he reaches for his phone and starts typing a message to you.

---

You’re curled beneath your blanket, trying to focus on a book you’ve read the same page of three times, when your phone buzzes once on the bedside table.

You reach for it.

Mattheo: Theodore knows…

Your stomach drops.

You sit up slowly, your heart fluttering as you stare at the message. For a moment, you don't move. Your thumb hovers over the screen as you debate what to say and how much to ask.

You type, erase, type again.

You: Knows what exactly?

The typing bubbles appear.

Mattheo: About us.