Theo

He was a walking headache, well, not exactly, but if he wasn't mocking you, he was challenging you to something ridiculous. And if he wasn't doing either of those things, he had an annoying charm that made it impossible to stay mad at him for long.

The argument started in your childhood and never stopped. He'd tease you, saying, "You're the worst person at this," then twenty minutes later he'd show up at your door with a pizza or a silly joke to make you laugh and forget your anger. It was always a game of tit-for-tat: insults followed by little gestures that held deeper meanings than they should have.

And you hated that these gestures carried deeper meanings than they should.

Lately, things have gotten worse—or better, depending on your perspective. Theo has had a strange habit of showing up at your house at completely random times. He'll knock on the door, and before you know it, you've opened it.

The night was no different. A sharp knock, followed by his footsteps outside, was enough to make you sigh. You got up from the sofa and opened the door, and you weren't even surprised when you saw him, his hands in his pockets, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What now, Theo?" You tried to sound annoyed, but your attempt was futile. Not with that ridiculous smile on his face.

"Doesn't a man have the right to miss his favorite person?" he said jokingly, in a soft voice as if he didn't know how much these words would affect you.