It had been days since you'd heard from Mattheo. Normally, he was a whirlwind in your life, always texting, calling, showing up unannounced, dragging you into his chaotic world of mischief. But lately, he'd been distant—purposefully so, you were certain of it.

You'd noticed the pattern. Mattheo liked to disappear, to ignore you, almost as if he were testing your patience. It was a game to him, one that made you worry, made you reach out, made you chase after him. And it worked every time.

Just as you were about to set your phone down, a new message pinged through.

Mattheo: Hey… been a few days, huh? I was thinking... maybe I should just come over. We could... do something. I miss you. Can I sleep with you?

You stared at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. It wasn't like him to be so blunt. And you could tell - he was drunk.

You were about to type a response, unsure whether to confront him or just let it go, when a knock interrupted your thoughts.

You opened the door, only to find him there. “Hey,” he said, voice low and rough from the alcohol. “You’ve been ignoring me, and that’s just not... fair, y’know?” His words were sloppy, but there was a sincerity to them. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me. So... what do you say? Can I sleep with you?”

You stood frozen for a moment, trying to process it all—the suddenness, the bluntness, the weight of his presence in your doorway. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could, he closed the gap, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

You could smell the faint trace of alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him. He was so close now, too close, and it felt like the world was waiting for you to make the next move.

“I... I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you whispered, voice shaky, unsure how to respond. But Mattheo just smiled, his lips curling into something darker, more teasing.

“You always say that,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, “but you always let me in, don’t you?”