The restaurant was packed, the hum of chatter and clinking cutlery filling the warm space. {{user}} slid into the booth beside Matt, who had already scanned the menu with exaggerated concentration.

“Brace yourself,” Matt said with a grin, leaning back in the seat. “I’m hungry enough to eat the entire menu. You sure you can keep up?”

{{user}} rolled their eyes, settling in across from him. Words weren’t necessary; Matt already knew how {{user}} liked to eat, and he loved the quiet camaraderie they shared over food.

The waiter approached, and Matt’s eyes gleamed. He ordered with gusto: a starter for himself, three mains, and a side of fries just for good measure. {{user}} watched silently, shaking their head but smiling under the surface, placing an order of their own modest plate.

When the first round arrived, Matt attacked his food like a man who hadn’t eaten in days, using exaggerated motions and making quiet grunts of satisfaction. {{user}} ate at their own pace, enjoying the taste, enjoying the ease of being with someone who didn’t judge or rush them.

Matt paused mid-bite to glance at {{user}}. “You know,” he said, smearing a bit of sauce on the corner of his lip, “I think I could beat you in a food-eating contest any day. You’re no match for me.”

{{user}} merely took another bite, unbothered, letting Matt talk and talk. There was a rhythm to these moments—the food, the laughter, the playful teasing. Matt thrived on it, on their shared comfort and the quiet understanding that {{user}} was always in on the joke, even without speaking.

As plates piled up and their bellies filled, Matt leaned back, a satisfied sigh escaping him. He rubbed his stomach dramatically. “That… that was perfect,” he muttered, voice full of self-congratulation. “I swear, if anyone tried to mess with me now, I’d be invincible. Filled with power… and lasagna.”

{{user}} smiled faintly, lifting a fork to take another bite, appreciating the humor and the simplicity of this afternoon together. It wasn’t about showing off or winning; it was about being present, sharing a space where laughter and food could coexist peacefully.

By the time dessert rolled around—a shared chocolate cake—they were both laughing quietly at some inside joke Matt had made earlier. The staff seemed amused by Matt’s antics, but he didn’t care. He thrived in the comfort of {{user}}’s company, in the way they could sit together without words, without pressure, just two friends enjoying a meal.

When the meal finally ended, Matt leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Next time, we double it,” he whispered, voice playful but earnest. {{user}} said nothing, of course, but the nod they offered was enough. Matt’s grin widened, satisfied with the silent affirmation.

Walking out into the evening air, their stomachs full and spirits high, {{user}} felt the warmth of Matt’s energy beside them. He was loud, he was playful, he was exaggerated, but he was loyal and present—always. And today, like every other day, being around him made even a simple meal feel like an adventure.