The room is thick with tension, and Mattheo stands there, casually leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. You, however, are fuming. Your hands are clenched into fists, and every word that comes out of your mouth is sharp, low, and laced with venom—none of which he understands.

"Sei un id!ota, non capisci niente!" you hiss, eyes narrowing.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, confused but too smug to care. He crosses his arms, looking at you with a tilted head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks with a mocking chuckle, clearly thinking you’re being dramatic for no reason.

You roll your eyes, and it only fuels your anger. You continue to curse, words that are incomprehensible to him.

Theodore steps forward with a small grin, looking back and forth between the two of you as if he were watching an entertaining show. With a shrug, he relays your words.

“She’s saying...” Theodore pauses, trying to hold back a chuckle, “...‘You can suck my d—’”

Mattheo's face shifts, eyebrows shooting up in realization, but before he can say anything, Theodore continues, laughing under his breath.

“If you don’t like my sh/t.”

There’s a long, awkward silence as Mattheo blinks, his smirk faltering slightly. Theodore bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying this more than he should, and you stand there, arms crossed, eyes still seething with rage.

Mattheo lets out a low, defeated chuckle. "Alright... alright. I get it."

You narrow your eyes even further, your frustration boiling under the surface, but a part of you can't help but find the whole situation a little satisfying.