{{user}} was hunched over his laptop at the small kitchen table, the room lit only by the warm glow of the desk lamp Matteo had dragged in from his bedroom. Their apartment was a mess—empty coffee cups, crumpled notes, and half-eaten snacks littered every surface.

Matteo, his best friend and roommate, sat across from him, tapping a pen against a thick stack of flashcards. The guy was a star basketball player, confident, funny, and the son of ridiculously rich parents. But right now, he looked just as exhausted as {{user}}, dark circles under his eyes from too many late nights.

“Two more weeks,” Matteo muttered, flipping a card over. “Two more weeks and we’re free.”

{{user}} smirked without looking up. “And by ‘free’ you mean…?”

“Greece,” Matteo said instantly, as if it was obvious. “The summer cottage. My parents are already planning the trip. You’re coming. Non-negotiable.”

“We have to pass these finals first,” {{user}} reminded him, waving at the mountain of notes.

“That’s why we’re killing ourselves now—so we can spend the entire summer doing nothing but swim, eat, and sleep.” Matteo leaned back in his chair, stretching. “You know you need the break.”

The next days blurred into a haze of study sessions. They’d sit side by side on the couch, quizzing each other until one of them fell asleep mid-sentence. Matteo had a habit of ruffling {{user}}’s hair when he got an answer right, and it was… distracting.

One night, after hours of silence except for the scratching of pens, Matteo suddenly spoke. “You know, it’s kind of insane how much time we spend together.”

{{user}} laughed softly. “Yeah, but we’re best friends. That’s how it works.”

Matteo’s voice lowered. “That’s… not the only reason I want you around.”

{{user}} froze, heart skipping. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Matteo looked straight at him, no grin this time. “It means I like you. Not just as a roommate. Not just as a friend.”