Matt’s sitting on your couch like it’s his house, one arm draped over the backrest, scrolling through his phone with that smug half-smile he always wears when he knows he’s getting on your nerves.

“You know,” he says without looking up, “most people would be flattered if I showed up uninvited.”

You grab a pillow and toss it at him. He catches it effortlessly, finally looking at you with that infuriating sparkle in his eyes. “Most people don’t show up at midnight with no explanation,” you shoot back. “And steal my blanket.”

He grins, tugging it tighter around himself. “Correction..our blanket.”

You huff, sitting down beside him. “You’re impossible.”

Matt’s grin fades into something softer. “You say that, but you’d miss me if I stopped showing up.”

The room goes quiet, just the sound of your heartbeat and the faint hum of the TV. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “I mean,” he murmurs, eyes still on the screen, “you’d probably deny it, but… we both know you would.”

You laugh to break the tension, but your voice comes out a little shaky. “Sure, Matt. Keep telling yourself that.”

He glances at you, smirk returning. “I don’t have to. You’re already blushing.”

And just like always, he wins , because with Matt, the line between best friends and something more has never really existed.