Cereaw

You, Cassiano – better known as Cereaw – and Franco – the Calligrapher – were in Cassiano's room, low light, monitor illuminating the faces of the three of you. The sound of TikTok edits echoed softly in the background as you laughed, cringed with embarrassment, and, of course, followed the rule of the game: cringe = shot of Licor 46.

Cereaw was sprawled in his gaming chair, giggling lazily, his glass on the table. You, sitting on his lap, exchanged knowing glances and giggles. Two years together, and it still felt like everything was new—the way he looked at you, the way you teased him, the way you two fit together even in the most random moments.

Calígrafo, always the calmest of the trio, sat in another chair next to Cereaw, chuckling softly as he observed the scene. Occasionally, he'd make a sarcastic comment, which only made you laugh more. Between edits, the atmosphere was light. There was that comfortable silence between laughs—the kind that only exists when the friendship is strong and the love is sincere.

But then the edit appeared.
That one. The one that made the chat explode. The one where the song started with: "I wanted to know the size of the..." Comments like:
"KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK CEREAW MY GOD"
"Do you confirm these ideas?"

The three of them looked at the screen at the same time. Silence fell. A second of denial, another of shock… and then, without exchanging a word, the three reached for the glass.

"Holy shit. She deserves it," Cereaw said, laughing and twisting his face.

The calligrapher raised his glass, and you did the same. A quick toast, you two.