The connection between {{user}} and Garreth had always been simple—effortless, even. Their friendship thrived on teasing remarks, late-night potion mishaps, and the kind of easy laughter that didn’t need explanation. It had never been complicated. Never emotional. Never serious.

Or so Garreth had always believed.

Until now.

Now, he was watching {{user}} walk down the corridor, smiling—really smiling—at someone else. Some guy from Herbology, the one with the perfect posture and annoyingly charming laugh. They walked close, their shoulders brushing as they talked, and {{user}} laughed at something he said—that kind of laugh, the one Garreth thought was just for him.

He felt it like a blow to the gut, sharp and unwelcome. A tightness he couldn’t quite explain curled in his chest, and he hated it. Hated the way it made his fingers twitch and his stomach churn.

Why did it bother him so much?

Before he could stop himself, he was already walking toward them, shoving down the storm swirling in his chest, every step tightening the mask he wore. His usual cocky grin was there—but just barely—clinging to his face like it didn’t quite belong.

“{{user}}, you all set to leave?” he asked, his voice a touch too bright, too forced. He didn’t even glance at the other guy, but the urge to throw a hex at him sat just beneath the surface.