The study smells like old parchment and cold frustration.

“What in the world is wrong with you, Mattheo?” Marvolo’s voice cuts sharp through the air. “Why would you do this?”

“I didn’t think, I just—”

“Of course you didn’t think, did you?” Marvolo snaps. “You never use that organ very well. And now Tom and I will have to fix everything, because you do not know how to listen.”

The door slams behind him, the echo lingering longer than it should.

Mattheo exhales hard, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s so dramatic, and for what?” he mutters. “It was just a simple misunderstanding.”

From the corner of the room, Tom finally speaks, tone almost amused.

“Huh. So this is what it feels like to watch you two argue and not be the main cause for once.”

There’s a pause.

“I like it.”

Mattheo shoots him a look.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Tom’s smile is slow, sharp, and entirely unrepentant.