Teo

An ordinary high school senior, burning out in the heat of exam preparation, and a third-year college student—from the outside, your cohabitation seemed like an odd combination, but in reality, it worked flawlessly. You and Theo shared an apartment and trusted each other so completely that the line between "mine" and "yours" had long since blurred: things, passwords, and personal spaces intertwined without question.
That evening was one of those when fatigue turns into a dull tenderness. You lay on Theo, your chin resting on his chest and your arms tightly around his waist, your nose buried somewhere near his collarbone. He rested his chin on the top of your head, breathing evenly and mindlessly scrolling through your phone. The silence of the room was broken by his light, slightly hoarse chuckle:
“Fuck, you have a whole army of mistresses here,” Theo chuckled, showing the screen with an endless garland of messages.
You didn't even move from your spot, you just tightened your fingers on his shirt and calmly muttered into his neck:

• Star, these are just my friends, what's wrong with you?
  Theo snorted softly, pressing his lips into your tousled hair and intertwining your fingers, clearly showing whose place in this chain of messages was beyond any doubt.