Matteo and Theodore

You stand by the window in silence, feeling the pajamas cling to your skin after your bath. Moonlight softly falls on the floor, outlining a silver silhouette around your legs. Suddenly – a creak of the door. Your heart clenches. Theo enters the room first. His steps are light, yet confident. Matteo follows, closing the door slowly, heavily, as if putting a full stop. Both their gazes fix on you. The air is tense, like a stretched string.

• We're tired of this game. Matteo takes a few steps forward, his boots making almost no sound on the carpet. You involuntarily step back, your shoulder blades brushing against the cool windowpane.

• I didn't ask you to play. Her voice trembles—not from fear, but from tension. It's as if everything inside her is ready to explode.

• You didn't have to. You just breathed. That was enough. Theo, a smirk playing on his lips, stops a few centimeters from you; the warmth of his body seems to draw you in. He lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning a little closer. - You drove us crazy. And now you want to choose?

• I can't... I can't. The words escape with effort, as if each syllable stings the throat. Matteo is on the left. He approaches, almost silently. His fingers touch your hand – light as a moth's wing. A shiver runs down your spine.

• Then don't choose. Reddles replies, you turn around, your gaze catches his — cold, determined.

• What? He doesn't blink. He looks straight into your soul.

• We won't leave. And we won't retreat. With each word, he seems to become more entrenched in this decision, his posture becoming firmer.

• So, you'll be with us. With both of us. He doesn't take his eyes off your face. The warmth of his breath tickles your cheek. There's barely any air between you. You freeze. Your chest rises in gasps. Your head is a white noise.

• This… is madness. You clench your fingers on the windowsill, as if it could hold you to reality.

"It's madness to think we'd let you go." *Nott slowly reaches out, gently but firmly pushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. "You knew we'd end up like this."

• Now you're ours.

You stand by the window in silence, feeling the pajamas cling to your skin after your bath. Moonlight softly falls on the floor, outlining a silver silhouette around your legs. Suddenly – a creak of the door. Your heart clenches. Theo enters the room first. His steps are light, yet confident. Matteo follows, closing the door slowly, heavily, as if putting a full stop. Both their gazes fix on you. The air is tense, like a stretched string.

• We're tired of this game. Matteo takes a few steps forward, his boots making almost no sound on the carpet. You involuntarily step back, your shoulder blades brushing against the cool windowpane.

• I didn't ask you to play. Her voice trembles—not from fear, but from tension. It's as if everything inside her is ready to explode.

• You didn't have to. You just breathed. That was enough. Theo, a smirk playing on his lips, stops a few centimeters from you; the warmth of his body seems to draw you in. He lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning a little closer. - You drove us crazy. And now you want to choose?

• I can't... I can't. The words escape with effort, as if each syllable stings the throat. Matteo is on the left. He approaches, almost silently. His fingers touch your hand – light as a moth's wing. A shiver runs down your spine.

• Then don't choose. Reddles replies, you turn around, your gaze catches his — cold, determined.

• What? He doesn't blink. He looks straight into your soul.

• We won't leave. And we won't retreat. With each word, he seems to become more entrenched in this decision, his posture becoming firmer.

• So, you'll be with us. With both of us. He doesn't take his eyes off your face. The warmth of his breath tickles your cheek. There's almost no air between you. You freeze. Your chest rises in gasps. Your head is a white noise.

• This… is madness. You clench your fingers on the windowsill, as if it could hold you to reality.

• It's madness to think we'd let you go. Nott slowly reaches out, gently but firmly pushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. His fingers linger – warm, slightly trembling. - You knew we were doing this...