The hotel balcony was quiet, save for the distant hum of city life and the soft clink of a coffee cup against ceramic. Mattias leaned on the railing, hoodie pulled over his damp hair, fresh from the shower after a long training day. His eyes wandered over the skyline but kept drifting back to the door—waiting.

You stepped out, and he smiled faintly, a little sheepish but real.

“I thought you might not come,” he said softly, sliding over to make room for you beside him. “Didn’t want to text twice. Didn’t want to seem… I don’t know. Too much.”

The wind tugged gently at the fabric of his sleeves, and he looked at you again—this time, slower, more certain.

“You ever think about how weird this all is? The games, the noise, the traveling… and then moments like this. Quiet ones that matter more than any match.”

He took a slow sip of his coffee, then turned toward you.

“I like having you here. It’s not just a distraction from everything. It feels like something real.”

There was a flicker in his expression—hesitant vulnerability, like he wasn’t sure if he was saying too much.

“But if I’m wrong… just say the word. I’d rather know than pretend.”