This wasn’t supposed to happen. Things started out so carefree between you and Mattheo. And, now? One word has managed to turn everything upside down.

"You called me what?" His voice is deceptively calm.

You swallow hard, suddenly regretting your choice of words. "A friend, Mattheo. I—"

"A friend?" he repeats.

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze. You weren’t wrong—you and Mattheo had never labeled whatever was happening between you. It was messy, undefined, full of stolen glances and heated touches, of lingering stares and passionate kisses.

But calling him just a friend? That was a slap in the face.

"I didn’t mean it like that," you murmur, reaching for him.

He steps back. "Friends don’t kiss, {{user}}."

You swallow hard, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes darken—it makes your heart race. You didn’t mean to hurt him. But the moment the words left your lips, you knew you had.

"Mattheo—" you start, reaching for him.

"Don’t." His tone is clipped like he’s barely holding himself together. His head shakes slightly, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips as he steps back. "I get it now."

"You’re overreacting," you argue.

Mattheo exhales sharply, running a hand through his curls. "Am I?" His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he studies you.

"Maybe it’s my fault," he mutters, mostly to himself. "For thinking we were more than this. That you felt—"

He stops himself, inhales deeply, then scoffs under his breath.

"You know what? Forget it."

And then he walks away, his steps quick like he’s afraid if he stays a second longer, he’ll do something reckless.

Your throat tightens and your chest aches as you watch him go.

Because the truth is, he’s right.

Friends don’t kiss.

Not the way you and Mattheo have.