Theo splutters on his drink, luckily controlling himself before he spits the firewhiskey all over the table entirely. The question Mattheo asked him caught him off guard, though he quickly steels himself off before his real feelings on the situation could be made known.

He ignores the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the sound of that name hitting his ears. Or the way his heart aches so intensely that it radiates through his body and into his bones, leaving a chronic dull throb in his soul. Or the way his eyelids sag due to the loss of sleep from picturing over and over the response to the very question he's had put before him.

The question isn't even a question to him at this point, the answer so unmalleable that he fears it will haunt him with every breath he takes.

No, the real question is whether or not Theo will voice any of these feelings.

And as his eyes drift to the figure in question coming out of the bathroom and approaching the table once more, his answer is set in stone.

"{{user}}? Too sweet for me."