Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You sit quietly in the hospital room, your twin brother slowly recovering from his surgery. You're absentmindedly on your book, barely registering what's on the pages. Your brother looks devastated. This was supposed to be his big year—his first at university—while you’re still working shifts to save up enough for tuition. He’s getting there before you, earned a sports scholarship. He’s an incredible football player. He deserves it. But still… knowing he's getting a shot at something you’ve dreamed about for years—before you—it stings.

“How am I supposed to go to university now? I’ve been waiting for this for three years,” he mutters, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Be grateful it’s something you can recover from,” you reply, still staring at your screen.

“Some people can never play sports again after an injury like yours.”

“You wouldn’t understand….”

“I know it’s frustrating. But it could’ve been worse. You could’ve ended up paralyzed. Or amputated.”

“Shut up. I’ll complain if I want to.”

You sigh and say nothing more. He's miserable, and there’s no point piling on. Truth is, he really didn’t catch a lucky break. He was supposed to move into campus this summer, start training early.

“I’m screwed. I’m gonna lose my scholarship. I’m gonna lose everything.”

You finally get up and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Like it or not, that twin connection is real—his pain feels like yours. Just then, a nurse walks in.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she greets, and your brother starts grinning.

“Oh no, that’s my twin sister.”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am!”

Her face goes crimson, but you don’t even flinch.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

You get mistaken for your brother a lot. You don’t exactly have the most feminine style, and your short hair doesn’t help. The nurse does her usual checks, then leaves.

“Y/n, I just had a genius idea.”

“Mmh…” You're already back in your book.

“What if you took my place at university?”

You freeze. Eyes wide. That’s a terrible idea. A dangerous one.

“What? No. What kind of idea is that?”

“No one would know! People mix us up all the time. And you’ve got the build for it!”

“This will never work. Besides, I suck at football.”

“You don’t need to be good. Just show up. Attend the classes. No one will know the difference!”

“It’s a horrible idea.”

“Didn’t you always dream of getting into this university? This is your chance to see if it fits. Maybe even make connections. Please, Y/n… if I don’t go… I lose everything.”

His head drops. He’s on the verge of tears.

“...I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, softened by the look of a kicked puppy on his face.

 

•••A few days later

You already regret agreeing. And yet here you are—suitcase in hand—standing in front of your dorm room. Your stomach’s in knots. The anxiety’s rising.What if someone finds out your secret?

What if the university expels you—for good?

What if they see it as academic fraud? You could be blacklisted from every university in the country. You shake off the thoughts, take a deep breath, and walk in. There’s already someone inside—a tall guy with messy curls, strong build, and a warm, easy smile.

“Hey,” he says, cheerful and disarming. “I’m Luigi. Senior year. Don’t get too excited though—I’m not your permanent roommate. Someone else’ll be moving in next year.”

…You definitely weren’t expecting this. He’s really good looking beside all the nerdy stuff.You clear your throat, trying to sound deeper. More confident.

“I… I’m Thomas. Nice to meet you.”

He walks over to shake your hand.

“Had time to explore campus yet? I could give you a quick tour.”

“Oh, no, thanks… I think I’ll just rest a bit.”

He chuckles softly.

“Sure. But if you change your mind, I’m around.”

You nod. Sharing a room with a guy? This is going to be… complicated.

“I’ll leave you to unpack,” he says, grabbing his keys. Then he pauses. “Unless you want a hand?”

“No, no! I’ve got it!”

He smiles again and heads out. No way you're letting him near your stuff—some of it is way too feminine.

 

••• Later, at lunch

Luigi is sitting with a group of friends. The mood is light—they’re joking, talking nonsense, laughing out loud.

“Hey guys! Mind if I join you?” you call out as you approach.

A few groans ripple through the group, but Luigi—true to form—smiles and gestures to an empty spot.

“Come on, sit!”

“Luigi, don’t let him sit here,”one of the guys grumbles.

“Yeah, this dude’s weird,” another mumbles.

“C’mon, he’s new,” Luigi shrugs, still smiling. “Give him a chance.”

You sit. Silence falls like a curtain. Awkward. You force a casual tone.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

No one answers right away. You can feel it—it’s not going to be easy here.

“You guys on the football team?” you ask, feigning nonchalance but genuinely curious.

“Yeah, all of us,”one replies with a mouthful of chips.

“Luigi’s our captain.”

“Oh wow!”

Luigi perks up a little, clearly flattered by your reaction—even if you’re trying to play it cool.

“Why? You thinking of joining?” he asks, turning fully toward you, genuinely interested.

“Absolutely. I love football. Can’t live without it. I break a leg—I fall into depression.” Shoutout to your brother.

You sell it hard, like you’ve spent your life juggling a ball in your backyard. Luigi bursts out laughing—an open, sincere laugh that lights up his whole face.

“Love the energy. Guess I’ll see you at practice, then?”

“Can’t wait!”you beam, pushing the excitement a bit too much.

 

••• Training day

You’re on the campus field, cleats on, in shorts, surrounded by new recruits. The sun’s hot, the grass is damp, and you’re silently begging that no one asks you to do tricks or flying kicks. Luigi walks by, ball under his arm, looking completely at ease.

“You’ve got this,” he says, giving your shoulder a friendly pat.

If only he knew…

You smile stiffly. You’re not awful at sports, but this is another level. The coach blows the whistle. Warm-up laps first. You survive. Then, passing drills. That’s when the panic kicks in. You trip over your own foot during a pass to Luigi. He catches the ball mid-air, laughing.

“Nice one, Thomas. You’ve got your own… unique style.”

“Thanks. It’s… instinct,” you wheeze.

Strangely, he doesn’t seem to be mocking you. He watches you. Encourages you. Offers tips. Despite the fear, you’re starting to… enjoy it. By the end, you’re drenched in sweat, legs shaking, arms dead. You’ve tripped three times. You missed a shot so badly, the ball landed in a bush. But somehow, you made it. The coach calls everyone to the center.

“Alright. I’m splitting you up—main team and reserves. If you didn’t make the cut today, you’ll have to work harder. You still have a chance.”

You hold your breath.

“Chris… Daniel… Henry… Harry… Mike… Anthony… Thomas. You’re with the reserves. You’ve got some work ahead.”

You nod, like that was your plan all along.

“Great. I’ve always wanted to improve my humility.”

Someone snickers behind you.

You hear one of the players whisper “class clown.”

You glance over at Luigi. He’s not laughing. He’s just watching you—puzzled. Everyone heads toward the locker rooms. But you don’t go in. No way. You’re not ready for that risk.

“Hey—where’s Thomas?” you hear Luigi ask. No one knows. You’re already halfway back to your dorm.

 

••• The Next Day

The university director himself has summoned you to his office. When you walk in, he studies you for a long moment over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows furrowed, your file open in front of him.

“Thomas…”

“Yes, sir?” you answer with your most innocent expression.

“I see here you joined the Strategic Analysis and Political Debate Club.”

You nod, putting on your most serious face.

“Absolutely. Geopolitics and structured argumentation… it’s kind of my thing.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Interesting. Because according to your file, you struggled to write more than ten lines in a single essay during high school.”

You swallow a nervous laugh.

“Let’s just say I had a sudden intellectual awakening. A spark.”

He eyes you a moment longer.

“Very well. Keep it up. But know this—if I find out someone’s abusing the system or faking their way into a scholarship… I won’t be lenient.”

You nod quickly.

“Of course, sir. Honesty is… my other thing.”

You walk out of his office holding your breath, then lean against the wall with a huge sigh of relief. Okay. That could’ve gone way worse. And the upside of being on the reserve team? You’ll never have to play a real match. Just show up for practices, sit on the bench, cheer uselessly from the sidelines. The perfect plan. Until the coach calls you out.

“Thomas!” he yells, pointing right at you just as you’re trying to slip away after warm-ups.

You pretend not to hear, but he walks over and taps your shoulder.

“I know what you're doing. I put you on the bench, and you think that gives you a free pass?”

“Not at all, Coach! I’m just… observing. Actively.”

He crosses his arms.

“Listen carefully. If I see that you’re not taking this seriously—if you’re not showing team spirit—your scholarship is gone. Clear?”

You freeze, eyes wide.

“Crystal clear.” Panic surges inside you.

“Yes coach !” He’s indirectly ordering you to respond correctly.

“Yes coach !” You repeat.

If you lose that scholarship, your brother’s done. And so are you. Practice ends, and once again, you skip the locker room. You start worrying about the showers—communal, non-mixed. Someone’s bound to notice something. You decide it’s safer to wait until late, when the building’s empty. You change clothes and head to the Debate Club. When you enter the room, you’re surprised to see Luigi already there, sitting at a table, deeply focused on a book. Just by the entrance, a table has been set up with registration forms. A girl is seated there, organizing some files. She’s stunning. Jet black hair tied back, subtle glasses, elegant posture, voice soft but firm. It’s her, Sarah. The one you heard Luigi talks about. Brilliant. Distant. Untouchable. You hesitate to approach… but she’s the one who looks up.

“Here to sign up?” She asks, casually.

You nearly stammer. “Uh… yeah.”

She gives you a slight smile.

“Then you’re in the right place. Want me to put you on the list?”

You nod. And somehow, just like that, you start talking. And to your surprise, you click. Instantly. She brings up a recent political issue, and you answer with unexpected passion. She actually listens. She even laughs at your jokes. From across the room, Luigi watches out of the corner of his eye. Pretending to read, but catching every second.

“You’re funny,” Sarah says. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll bring to the table.”

“And I can’t wait to see you in action. I’ve heard rumors about you, you know.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Oh really? Do tell.”

Your smile fades a little.

“I didn’t mean anything bad. I hope that didn’t offend you—”

She laughs.

“I’m teasing. You know, you’re one of the only people who talks to me like I’m… a normal person? Most of them look away the second I make eye contact. Maybe I’ve got some kind of creepy magic power.”

“Seriously?”

You sit next to her without thinking, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I think it’s just that you’re too beautiful. And too charismatic. People get intimidated, that’s all.”

She blushes faintly and lowers her gaze.

“Stop feeding my delusions. I’m already struggling to stay grounded.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re… really sweet. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Thomas. Nice to meet you.”

You extend a hand.

“Sarah. A pleasure, Thomas.”

You give her a casual wink—pure reflex—and she laughs again. Far across the room, Luigi sees everything. He hears enough to get the picture. Sarah is talking, laughing and even looking at you. And Luigi—who’s known her since elementary school—has never managed more than two minutes of conversation. There’s a small, unfamiliar tightness in his chest. A quiet, confusing jealousy.

 

••• Later That Night

You wait until the building is empty. You triple-check the hallways. Then you sneak into the showers. Warm water runs down your neck, and for the first time in the day—you breathe. Here, you can be yourself. You step out, hair still damp, towel over your shoulders. The corridor is dark and quiet. You walk slowly, listening for any sound. Back in your room, Luigi is lying on his bed, staring into space.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He sits up slightly.

“So? You settling in okay?”

You flop down on your bed with a groan.“I’m dead !.”

There’s a pause. Then—“I saw you with Sarah earlier…”

You glance at him, smirking.

“Yeah. She’s cool. She even asked me to hang out tomorrow.”

“Wait—what? She did?”

He jolts upright.

“What? We just talked. Don’t make that face.”

“It’s just… Sarah doesn’t talk to anyone. She barely acknowledges people. She doesn’t have any friends because she don’t want to .”

“Really ? She seems pretty friendly.”

“How? What did you do?”

You grin, half-teasing.

“Oooooh, someone’s jealous. Got a little crush on Sarah, don’t you?”

You sit up to look at him better. He blushes instantly.

“Ah-ha! You blushed!”

“Shut up… I’ve known her since elementary, okay? And yeah, I like her. She’s… special.”

He gives a shy, sweet smile.

“So you’re the jealous type, huh?”

He laughs, embarrassed.

“Not at all! I don’t even know why I’m talking about this with you.”

“Want me to help you talk to her?”

“You think you could?”

“Maybe… you could come tomorrow and talk with us a bit?”

“That’d be amazing.”

“And I’ll be there too, it might help you feel more at ease.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

“Yeah. But I need a favor too.”

“Anything.”

“Help me get better at football. If I mess this up… I lose my scholarship.”

“Oh that’s why you where a little sad. Don’t worry I’m gonna make you the best player of the team.”

 

••• The Next Day

The little campus cafe is nearly empty when you arrive. Luigi, meanwhile, hasn’t said a word since you left the dorm. He walks straight ahead, hands in his pockets, like he’s about to take an oral exam. Sarah’s already at a table, nose buried in a book. When she sees you approaching, she lights up with a warm smile.

“Thomas! And you brought your friend.”

“It’s Luigi, I think… I don’t know maybe you remember me…” He offers his hand—too stiff, too nervous. Sarah shakes it politely,

“Yeah, Luigi from Gilman school ? I remember you.” then turns back to you. “Glad you came. I need to unwind today.”

“Perfect. Same here.” You give her a wink.

Conversation flows naturally. You try to include Luigi, but he stays quiet. He plays with his glass, nods occasionally, lets out a few polite laughs. You can tell he’s struggling. Sarah, on the other hand, talks to you with ease—so much ease, you sometimes wonder: Is it something about you… or is it just her?

“Got any plans for the weekend?” she asks.

Luigi opens his mouth to answer, but you beat him to it.

“Training, mostly. He’s helping me get better at football.”

“Oh yeah? You play too?”

“Let’s say… I’m trying.”

Sarah laughs and throws you another question. Then another. Luigi finishes his drink silently. You talk mostly to her, and so does he, through you. You didn’t mean to be the center of attention… but here you are. Something shifts in the air. Not unpleasant, but strange. A soft tension. A quiet confusion.

 

••• End of the Day

The sun sets gently over the empty bleachers. You’re dripping with sweat, breathing hard. Your shorts cling to your skin, your legs are trembling.

“You did pretty well with the passes today,” Luigi says.

“You’re lying.”

“Totally. But you need encouragement.” He laughs and tosses you a water bottle.

“We’ll keep working. Until you’re become the best. Not better than me but the best.”

“What ? You’re afraid that I become better than you and the coach ?” You tease him.

“You're afraid that I'll outshine you and the coach will make me team captain.”

“It’s a really precise provocation that you’re describing.” He jokes. “If you become better than me then it’ll mean that I’m a really good teacher.”

You watch him jog off, tapping the ball with ease. He’s more himself out here. Less tense. The light turns golden. The field is almost deserted. After a final round of shots, you both collapse on the bench. You’re done.
“I’m gonna die here.”

“Not on my field,” Luigi jokes, ruffling your hair. “Come on. Let’s get changed.”

You hesitate at the locker room door. The hallway’s empty. You tighten your towel around your shoulders. Luigi pulls off his shirt without a second thought. You freeze.

“You okay?”

You nod—but don’t move.

“I… I can’t change in front of you.”
He frowns, confused.

“No shame here, bro.”

You swallow hard. Then, more quietly: “I’m just… really modest. Like, really.”

He studies you for a second, then nods seriously. “All right. Back to back?”

You glance up at him. He smiles. You can’t help it—you laugh. “That works.”

He turns around. So do you. You both change in silence, with a kind of unspoken reverence. He doesn’t peek. He doesn’t joke. And it touches you more than you expected.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“No problem. Really. You don’t have to thank me.”

You leave the locker room with your heart a little lighter—but also a little more tangled. Back in the room, Luigi kicks off his shoes and flops onto his bed.

“So… what was that with Sarah earlier? You were totally shy.”

He sighs, clearly frustrated with himself.“I don’t know, man. I just freeze.”

“Is it like that with all girls?”

“No. It’s different with her. With Sarah… I’m terrified of messing it up. What if she doesn’t like me ? What if she thinks I’m boring ?”

“Ohh she’ll like you !” You analyse his entire person.

His eyebrows frowned, confused in a funny way. “What ?” He smiles.

“N-no I just mean, you’re a good guy. You just have to make the conversation and it will be okay. Plus you’re good looking.”

“Thank you… You’re right. Maybe I should text her or something?”

“Or go full drama—knock on her door and tell her you had a great time this afternoon.”

 

••• A Few Weeks Later

Luigi and you have become really close. Surprisingly close. He makes you feel comfortable in a way few people ever have. He listens. He solves problems before you even ask. He’s caring, gentle, funny. And he helped you improve so much in football—it’s honestly impressive. You spend a lot of time together. Maybe even too much. But something in you feels a little sad… When your brother will come back and takes your place… saying goodbye is going to be hard. That’s why you’ve already made a plan:

At the end of the summer, you’ll start pulling away. You’ll fake an illness, and your brother will quietly return. No one will notice.

You’re sitting together in the library, supposedly studying. Luigi is clearly not in the mood. He leans closer and whispers:

“You coming to the party tonight?”

“I didn’t even know there was a party.”

“Come on… I’ll be bored without you.”

He gives you a pleading look. You hesitate… then nod.

“All right. Fine.”

“Yesss! It’s gonna be awesome.” He messes up your hair.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Or what ?”He teases, tapping your cheek this time.

“Luigi, stop…” You try not to smile. But it’s getting harder.

 

••• Party Night

The music is thumping all the way to the sidewalk. Luigi and you arrive together. You’re wearing an oversized shirt you stole from your brother’s closet. Luigi’s in his usual outfit — pink T-shirt and shorts. Simple. Effortless.

“You could’ve dressed up a little. Sarah’s here,” you tease.

He nudges you with a grin.

“And you? What, you steal your dad’s shirt or something?”

You both laugh. It’s easy between you. Comfortable. Then the party begins. After about an hour of dancing, you find yourselves sitting in a circle in a dimly lit living room. Half-empty cans litter the floor. Someone suggests a game of Truth or Dare — classic, always works. The bottle spins. Silly dares, awkward confessions. Then it’s Luigi’s turn.

“Dare!”

“Luigi, kiss Sarah.”

He tries to play it cool, but he’s clearly thrilled. As he leans toward her, she smiles and glances at you from the corner of her eye. Why is she looking at you? Luigi moves in and pauses just before their lips meet.

“Can I?” he asks, a little hesitant.

She nods, and he kisses her, gently, one hand tangling in her hair. You feel a flicker of jealousy. You which it was you. You can’t help it. When he pulls away, Sarah watches you closely.

“Jealous, Thomas?” one of Luigi’s friends teases. “Didn’t know you had a thing for Sarah.”

“W-what ?” You’re confused.

Luigi glances at you, puzzled. He's trying to read you. The game continues and it’s Luigi’s turn again.

“Dare!” Maybe he wishes that they give him something with Sarah again.

“Well, since Thomas is jealous… kiss him. For ten seconds.”

“What?! Why me? I didn’t do anything! I’m not jealous !” you protest.

“Liar.” Most of them respond, in unison.

“Wait, guys… he’s a dude,” Luigi says, a little uneasy, shooting you quick glances to gauge your reaction.

“You lost, man. Ten seconds, with tongue!” someone insists.

Luigi laughs a little too loudly. And you… you shiver at the thought of feeling him that close.

“I’m not gay,” he protests weakly.

“Then refuse,” you suggest, raising a brow.

“And lose? Never.”

He leans in. You meet his gaze. His lips touch yours. And suddenly, everything in your head goes quiet. His tongue brushes against yours, awkward, unsure. But something’s there lingering. After ten seconds he pulls back abruptly, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“There. Done.”

You give a weak smile.

“Not that bad, huh?” You try to cool down yourself.

He gives you a strange look, a disgusted facial expression, like he always does.

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t in my position.”

Everyone laughs. But you… you’re not so sure how you feel.

“It wasn’t… that terrible,” you mumble under your breath, hoping no one hears.

But Luigi does. He quickly changes the subject. The party keeps going, but your mind isn’t in it. That kiss…Whatever. You try not to think about it.

Later that night, after a long shower, you return to your room. Luigi’s sprawled on his bed, flipping through a book.

“What a night.” he says casually.

“Yeah. You got to kiss Sarah… happy?”

“Mm… honestly? That kiss was... fine. But the one with you? Way more intense.” He jokes…

You freeze. He just dropped that so casually. You can’t tell if he’s joking or serious — and you kinda hope it’s a joke. You climb onto his bed, hovering over him. You study his face — he looks serious.

“You’re dripping water on me,” he grumbles, but you don’t move.

“Say that again?”

“What? You’re getting me wet.”

“No. The other thing.”

“Stop it, Thomas.”

“Say it.”

“Or what?” he challenges, shifting to meet your eyes.

Then you start wrestling. You try to pin him down, but he’s way too strong.

“Ohh, I get it. You wanna fight?” he teases.

“Shut up.”

With one quick move, he flips you beneath him and pins you down with ease.

“You fight like a girl,” he jokes—and you can’t help but laugh. It’s an inside joke only you understand. “You’re all skinny and weak. How do you drive all the girls crazy? Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re cute.”

You squirm, but it’s useless. He’s got your wrists pinned effortlessly, annoying and amusing all at once.

“You’re heavy. Get off me,” you order. “I can’t breathe !” You fake.

“You just mad ‘cause you lost?”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t lose.”

“Bro, you’re literally under me, half-crushed. You lost.” He grins, victorious.

“You cheated.”

“Then surrender.”

Normally, you'd never give in. But right now… this whole situation is messing with your head. You just want it to stop. You sigh.

“Fine. You win.”

He lets go immediately and helps you up, then ruffles your hair—it’s become a habit.

“Good boy,” he teases again.

“Ew,” you swat his hand away.

“Idiot,” he says with a wink and a grin.

 

••• The Next Day

Training has just started — nothing unusual so far. The coach is shouting instructions to everyone on the field.

“Thomas, I want to talk to you after practice.”

“Yes, Coach,” you reply with a nod.

The drills begin. You’re focused — until you hear high-pitched cheering coming from the stands. You glance over. Sarah? What the hell is she doing here?

“Go Thomas! You got this!” she calls out cheerfully.

Exactly what you didn’t need. Great. On top of that, the coach wants to talk to you — and it’s eating away at your focus. What if he found out your secret? What if he thinks you’re not good enough? What if he’s going to cut you from the team? You ignore Sarah completely. Until she starts cheering for Luigi. Now he’s distracted and you manage to steal the ball from him.

“Whoa, Thomas! You’re getting better at taking the ball from Luigi!” one of your teammates compliments.

“Yeah, I’m starting to figure out his weak spots,” you answer automatically.

You hope Luigi will respond, but he doesn’t even glance at you. His eyes are glued to Sarah. You score against his team, normally, he’d be the first to shout in celebration, teasing you and reminding you you’re still opponents. But now? Nothing. He doesn’t even look at you. And you hate it. More than you’d like to admit.

“Hey, Mangione! Focus on the match! Even if it’s just practice, it matters!”

“Yes, Coach!” Luigi snaps back into the game — but not before throwing another grin Sarah’s way. Ew.

“Coach, can I use the bathroom?” you ask urgently.

“You can’t hold it, kid?”

“Nope. About to piss myself.”

The coach sighs but waves you off. You jog toward the locker rooms. On your way back, you stop by the stands.

“Sarah. What are you doing here?”

“I came to support Luigi,” she says sweetly.

“Funny, you were cheering for me first,” you point out.

She acts surprised. “Well, Luigi’s my friend too.”

“No. I’m your friend. Luigi’s my friend. You two barely know each other.”

“So? That kiss yesterday made me realize a few things. He’s… kinda cute.”

You exhale sharply. What the hell is she playing at?

“You’ve known him since elementary school. You never showed the slightest interest in him before.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything… Are you jealous?” she asks with a sly smile.

“Listen Sarah, Luigi is not a sort of game you play, he’s a person with emotions. Don’t play with him.”

“I’m not playing…” you’re not sure, but you think it’s a lie.

You turn and jog back onto the field, ignoring the coach yelling at you to hustle. Practice ends. Time to talk to the coach. But your eyes can’t help flick toward Luigi, who’s already making a beeline for Sarah. You watch them from the corner of your eye.

“Hey! Thomas, are you with me?”

“Yes, Coach!” you snap out of it.

“You’ve made great progress. Congratulations, you’re moving up to the first team.” He gives you the official jersey’s team.

“W-What?! Seriously, Coach? I made it?!”

You practically jump out of your shoes and, before you can stop yourself, hug the coach. He looks completely caught off guard — but there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his face, one you don’t even notice.

“Sorry—I just… thank you. Really.”

In the locker room, you announce the news with pride. Everyone congratulates you—except Luigi. He’s still with Sarah. You grab your stuff and head for the exit.

“Not changing here, Thomas?” someone asks.

“Thomas never changes in the locker room. Haven’t you noticed?” Luigi says as he enters, a huge smile plastered across his face. You ignore him. Walk right past. He watches you go, hoping you’ll turn around, say something, anything. But you don’t. You act like he’s not even there. Luigi quickly grabs his stuff and joins you in the room.

“Hey, Thomas. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

You sigh. “I opened up to you. I told you I was self-conscious, and you turned it into a joke in front of everyone.”

“What? What joke?” He looks genuinely confused.

“The one you made when you walked into the locker room…”

“Ohhh, that… Come on, I just mentioned you never change in there. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“And why even bring it up in front of everyone? What am I, your clown now? Do you use me to make yourself look cooler? To get laughs?”

Your voice is rising—frustration mixing with something else. Disappointment. Humiliation.

“Look, bro… I’m sorry if that upset you. That wasn’t my intention. I swear I didn’t say anything else to the others.”

“Forget it.”

His apology calms you down instantly, but it’s not just about the locker room. It’s something deeper. The way he talks to Sarah. How open he is with her. How easy she makes it for him, or how easy he makes it for her. You’re not sure. But it gnaws at you. Why is it so effortless with her ? You’ve been… Never mind.

After a long shower, you crawl into bed. The room is quiet. Luigi doesn’t say a word, sensing you need space. He doesn’t want to break your silence. So he just lies there, still waiting.

 

•••The Next Day

The atmosphere is tense. Awkward. You’ve been thinking all night, and now it’s clear—you overreacted yesterday. What hurt you wasn’t even what you argued about. And honestly, you don’t even know why. Luigi had been upfront from the start—he told you he was in love with Sarah. He never hid anything from you. He’s always been honest… while you’ve been lying to him from day one. You get up and walk to his bed. He’s sleeping peacefully. He looks so adorable like that. You gently tap his shoulder.

“Bro…”

“Mmh…”

He slowly wakes up, rolling onto his back to look at you.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” you mumble.

“Huh? What?” He sits up a little.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I overreacted.” You sigh, saying it louder this time.

He gets up quickly—faster than you’ve ever seen him move out of bed. Usually, it takes him ages.

“I’m glad we talked. Yesterday, I was so excited to see you that it really bummed me out when we argued,” he admits.

“Well, now it’s all fine. What was it you wanted to tell me yesterday?”

“Oh—about Sarah. She invited me out tonight. We’re going to that pizzeria at the end of the street.”

Sarah this, Sarah that… Always Sarah.

“Luigi’s Pizza…”

“Yeah, funny coincidence, right? Anyway… I was thinking—you could come too. Maybe bring a girl with you, and we can make it a double date. It’d make things less awkward for me. Only if you want, of course.”

“I wouldn’t know who to invite. You’re the only one I want to go to dinner with.”

He looks a little surprised.

“You could ask Betty. She’s crazy about you. I think it would make her really happy—she’s never been asked out by anyone, and she spends all her evenings alone…”

“If you noticed she’s always alone, why didn’t you invite her yourself?” you ask, curious to hear his excuse.

“I did. I asked her to the school dance,” he defends himself.

“Mmh… I’ll invite her. She seems cool.”

“Great! But I should warn you—she’s a little… odd.”

“I don’t need your character analysis, thanks. I’ll form my own opinion.” You’re disappointed by the way he talks about her. You didn’t think he could be so… typically male.

“Oh—just a heads up, Betty’s gluten intolerant. Could be useful to know.”

And just like that, he earns back a few points in your eyes.

“By the way, congrats on making the main team. We’ll celebrate,” he says warmly.

“Thanks…” You blush and look down.

 

•••Luigi’s Pizza

An unexpected delay with Betty means you’re running late. By the time you arrive, Luigi is alone with Sarah, an awkward silence hanging between them. He tries small talk, but she only answers in short, disinterested sentences.

“It was fun last time, when you came to the game. You should come again,” he tries.

“Mmh… I was there to see Th—you and Thomas. You were great.”

“Thomas is scoring more and more lately. He’s getting better than me,” he chuckles.

“Speaking of him, wasn’t he supposed to come?” she asks, a trace of worry.

“He—”

You walk in, Betty beside you.

“Thomas!” they both exclaim at the same time, clearly relieved to see you walk in—with company. You sit down: Luigi across from you, Sarah beside him, Betty beside you.

“Sorry we’re late, something came up…” you say, pulling out Betty’s chair.

“Oh, you’re even pulling her chair out. Serious business,” Luigi teases.

“It’s called being a gentleman,” you shoot back, smirking.

“Thank you,” Betty says sweetly.

“So, what were you guys talking about?” you ask, scanning the menu with Betty.

“I was telling Luigi he’s amazing at football,” Sarah says, stroking his arm.

“And what else?” you add.

“Uh…” Another awkward silence.

“What would you like, Betty?” you ask instead.

“Mmh, I don’t know… you choose for me.”

“Alright—something gluten-free and tasty. Got it.”

She smiles, surprised at your thoughtfulness. While waiting for the food, you and Betty get into a lively conversation. She’s hilarious. You can’t understand why Luigi called her “weird.” Sure, she’s a bit unconventional, but not at all in a bad way—you enjoy her company. Since Luigi’s the one who needed moral support tonight, you let him handle Sarah on his own.

“You’re seriously funny, Betty. I don’t get what Luigi meant when he said you were weird,” you say after a particularly good joke.

Luigi kicks you under the table, eyes wide.

“Ow! What?” you say innocently.

“Shut up…” he mutters just to you.

“You think I’m weird?” Betty asks Luigi directly, hurt.

“N-no, not at all! You’re unique and that’s awesome,” he backtracks.

“Sorry, Betty. I didn’t mean to say it like that—it wasn’t to make fun of you. I was just trying to mess with Luigi,” you admit, regretting it.

“How long have you two known each other?” Sarah asks, her tone slightly sharp.

“I invited Betty today,” you explain.

“Yes! And I accepted because he’s cute,” Betty says without hesitation.

You turn to her, startled. “Seriously? You think I’m cute? That’s sweet—you’re a wonderful woman, Betty. Really.” You place your hand over hers.

At that moment, your phone buzzes. A message from Luigi.

~ Luigi ~You’re literally hitting it off before I even get the chance, and I’ve been trying for months 😠😠
~ You ~ You just have to talk to her !!!!

You slip your phone away and get back to Betty. It’s a great date—except Sarah keeps interrupting, paying more attention to you and Betty than to Luigi. You lean closer to Betty, your shoulder brushing hers. She smells amazing. You whisper something in her ear, making her laugh quietly behind her hand. Sarah notices and her eyes sharpen. Then, suddenly, she turns to Luigi and kisses him. Your chest tightens painfully. You hate yourself for it—it’s absurd. He never promised you anything. He’s just your friend. Betty blinks, confused, then stares down at your plate. You push back your chair.

“I… I’m gonna go.”

“Wait!” Sarah says, breaking the kiss.

Betty follows you.

“I’ll walk you back,” you tell her, still looking downcast.

“With pleasure.”

You walk in silence until you reach her room. She invites you in, mentioning her roommate’s gone and the other bed is free. You decline, flustered. She leans in, almost about to kiss you, but you gently push her back.

“Sorry… I thought we were getting along,” she says, ego bruised.

“It’s not that… it’s just…” you sigh. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“What do you mean? I think you’re great.”

For a moment, you want to tell her the truth—that you’re not a man and this whole thing is a facade. But you barely know her. She could tell everyone. You can’t risk it. So you hold it back.

“I’m not… I’m not into women. Sorry.” You lie.

“Oh… that’s why things were tense with Luigi, huh?”

“I don’t know…” you avoid her gaze.

“You don’t have to tell me. Thanks for tonight, though. I had fun. We should do it again… if you want.”

“Me too. Yeah, I’d like that.” You smile.

Back in your room, you find Luigi lying on his bed, looking thoughtful. He sits up as soon as you walk in.

“You’re back? I thought you’d spend the evening with Betty—you two seemed to be hitting it off.”

“Same for you… so, with Sarah—did you make her crazy in love ?”

“Huh?”

“I mean… did you, you know, make a move?” You rephrase to sound more casual.

“Why are you talking about women like that? Sometimes I really wonder what goes through your head,” he says, half amused, half annoyed.

“Yeah, you’re right… So what happened?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “After you left, she grabbed her stuff and left too.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Why did you leave so suddenly at the restaurant? You didn’t seem okay. I know you well enough to tell something was off. And don’t tell me it’s nothing—I can feel it.”

“…If I tell you, you’ll be angry,” you say quietly. You hesitate—are you really ready to say it? You want to… but you don’t want to lose him. He thinks you’re just a guy, his best friend. Plus he’s in love with Sarah.

“Tell me. What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t there when you have a problem? I won’t react badly,” he insists.

“I… I like you.” You say it in the shortest way possible, hoping the rejection will be quick—like ripping off a bandage. You watch his reaction, but can’t read it. You brace for the worst.

“…What did you just say?”

“You heard me. I’m not repeating it.” You look away.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.” You turn to leave.

“Wait.”

You’d love to hear what he has to say, but his hesitation says enough. You grab your things and head for the shower. When you return, he’s already asleep.

 

•••One Week Later

Luigi hasn’t pushed the subject. Not yet. He respected your silence, your avoidance. But as the days go by, you catch his eyes on you more and more. When you enter the common room, he looks up. When you laugh a little too loudly with others, his brows knit. And when he tries to talk after practice, you always find an excuse to slip away. You just… don’t know how else to handle it.

On the stadium, you turn too late to catch a ball, and Luigi crashes into you full force. You both tumble to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. He scrambles up immediately, panicked.

“You okay?!” He worries.

You nod. But neither of you moves. His hands are still on your waist. Your hand rests against his collarbone. Your faces are inches apart. The noise of the field fades away—just his warmth, his eyes, and the silence. Then, as if waking from a trance, he helps you up quickly, awkwardly.

“Oh my God, Thomas, you’re bleeding!” He panics.

“What? No, I’m—” You touch your forehead and feel blood.

“I’m taking you to the infirmary.”

“I can go by myself,” you protest.

“I’m not letting your death be on my conscience,” he jokes.

At the infirmary, he bombard the nurse with questions.

“It’s nothing serious, right?” He’s concerned, again.

“Just two stitches. Won’t even leave a scar.” Explain the male nurse.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to ruin such a pretty face,” he teases.

“Ha-ha-ha, very funny.” you replied, dripping with sarcasm.

The nurse steps out.

“Let me see,” Luigi says, leaning in to inspect you closely. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine… just don’t stand so close…” He steps back.

“Now that we’re alone, I want to talk about what you said before.”

“Oh, great—you finally figured out what to say.” You get up, heading for the door. He follows.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Because I already know the answer!”

“What if we just… stop and talk like adults?”

He grabs your arm, pulling you into a quieter corner.

“Let go of me!”

“Shh. Listen—I know you think I don’t care, or that I don’t want to be with you. I’m not gay, but… I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend. The brother I never had. I want nothing to change between us. Can that be possible?”

“But are you rejecting me because I’m a man or because you just don’t see me like this.”

He doesn’t respond immediately.

“I-it’s complicated…” he begins.

“What if I was a girl ? Would you still reject me ?” You add.

“You’re not a girl and even you were… it’s just that there’s a lot of other’s details… “ he explains.

It’s look like he’s struggling to find his words. You don’t want to torture him. What did you expect—that he’d throw away everything he believes in, just for you?

“It’s okay Lu… I’m not mad, not at all. I just feel stupid for telling you this.”

“You’re not stupid,” he says firmly. “It’s okay. I just… I want our friendship back.”

“Nothing’s changed. I’m still your ‘bro’.” You joke, wanting to see a smile on his face.

He offers you his best smile.

“Glad we’re back, bro.” He claps a hand on your shoulder.

The rest of the team suddenly bursts in, voices filling the room as they ask if you’re alright.

 

••• A Few Days Later

It was as if nothing had changed between Luigi and you. Honestly, you were glad. The bond was still there, the banter the same. Tonight you were at a party, having a good time with friends. Sarah was sitting beside you. You didn’t blame her—Luigi was a good guy. Who wouldn’t want to date him? The problem was, she didn’t realize how lucky she was. You would have loved to be in her place.

Luigi adjusted his curls, set down his drink, and went to her. She followed him aside.

“Sarah… I like you. A lot.”

Sarah froze, surprised, her heart racing—but she didn’t look shocked.

“Finally,” she breathed, almost laughing. “I was wondering when you’d say something.

Luigi smiled awkwardly.

“Since elementary school, I’ve always liked you.” He continues.

“Luigi… it’s complicated…”

He frowned. She lowered her gaze, then met his eyes with raw honesty.

“I thought for a long time that it was you that I wanted. And then Thomas arrived. And I realized something.”

Luigi blinked.

“I love him. He’s the one I’m attracted to, Luigi.”

Luigi froze, his mouth half-open.

“I know it’s weird. I thought I was into you. I clung to that idea… but it’s been Thomas all along. And I’ve made a fool of myself. He doesn’t feel the same—he even told me I’m not his type.”

She looked down, almost ashamed. Luigi stayed silent for a moment. Then, softly:

“I understand…” He glanced toward you across the room, laughing with friends. “He’s great.”

Sarah gave a sad smile.

“Yeah… My head’s a mess. But I didn’t want to lie to you. I like you, Luigi—just not in the way you wanted.”

He nodded slowly, clearly hurt but mature enough to handle it.

“You did the right thing telling me. It’s better this way.”

“You’ll find someone better. You have so much to offer.”

Luigi gave her a faint, bittersweet smile. From across the room, you watched them—too far to hear, but close enough to notice Luigi’s frozen expression and Sarah walking away quickly, avoiding your gaze. You stood, heart pounding for no reason you could name, and went to him.

“Tell me everything.”

“Forget it,” he said, moving away. You followed.

“Hey, Luigi, what happened?”

“She’s not interested in me.”

“What?! She was all over you before, I don’t understand.”

“She’s into you.”

“…What?” You stared at him in shock.

“She just told me…” He sighed.

“I’m really sorry… she don’t deserves you”you offered, trying to cheer him up.

He smiled faintly. “You’re an idiot.”

“If it makes you feel better, fine.”

“Why are you always so kind and caring? I’m not used to that with my other friends—we just talk about football and video games.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“I’d say… lovers.” He rectify.

“What are you talking about? You promised not to bring that up again.” You panicked, caught off guard.

“Bring what up? The fact that you’re in love with me?” he teased, that smug smile on his face. Apparently, Sarah’s confession had already slipped from his mind.

“Was.” You corrected.

“Oh, so you’re not in love with me anymore? You just stopped? In a few days?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You think you’re irresistible? No wonder Sarah turned you down.”

“You sure?” He stepped dangerously close. Your heart raced—you were losing your composure. He was infuriatingly handsome. “Let me hold you.”

“That’s not something friends do.”

“Just once. I need comfort.”

You sighed and gave in. Even though deep down, you wished it were happening under different circumstances, you’d do anything to make him feel better. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You felt his warm breath on your skin. With that single touch, the noise and chaos faded away—there was only the two of you. You inhaled his scent, resting your head against his collarbone, your hands brushing over his broad back. You couldn’t control what you were feeling, but right now, you felt… at peace.

“You smell good,” he murmured against your skin, as if the words had slipped out. Your stomach twisted. Was that intentional? Or just a thought out loud? You didn’t dare answer—just closed your eyes and held him tighter.

Then a friend walked into the room, and you immediately stepped apart.

“Hey, Thomas, come quick!”

“I’m coming!”

Luigi watched you. “It was just friendly,” he said, searching your eyes, reading every reaction.

“I know...”

You went back to the others, laughing and having fun—though you could feel Luigi’s gaze on you more than usual. At one point, Sarah approached and, without warning, kissed you. You froze. Luigi frowned. Even knowing the truth, it still irritated him—made him feel humiliated. You gently pushed her away, completely thrown.

“What the hell, Sarah? What’s gotten into you?” you said, trying to keep your voice polite.

“I love you! I’ve always wanted to tell you. I even tried to make you jealous with Luigi! But you didn’t care, so I’m saying it directly—my only chance to get a reaction from you.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested. You’re just a friend to me.”

“Why not?” she pressed.

“I just don’t want to.”

Now everyone was staring at you. Exactly what you’d been trying to avoid to protect your brother’s privacy.

“I’ve heard things about you! Are you gay? That’s the only reason you’d say no.”

“That’s none of your business. And no—I don’t owe you an explanation,” you said, ending the conversation.

You walked away. She tried to stop you, but you pulled free. The night had been going so well, and now it was ruined. You left the party, took a shower, slipped into pajamas, and got into bed. Luigi came back an hour later, saying nothing—which was strange. Normally, he’d recount every funny moment from the night.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

“No…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t kissed Sarah right after I told her how I felt, it would’ve been a better night. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t understand… she kissed me. I’m not interested in her.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Oh, I forgot—you only like guys. Still, pretty bold of you.”

“What does that have to do with anything? She kissed me, I had nothing to do with it. And if she doesn’t like you, that’s not my fault. You know what? I’m done with your drama. Good night.”

He looked at you silently, his expression softening—but you were too angry to notice.

“Bro…” he started, but you were already turning away, cocooned in your blanket.

That was the last thing you needed tonight. The final nail in the coffin. At that moment, you hated him.

 

•••Three Days Later

Today, the whole team is going camping. Apparently, it’s supposed to “strengthen team spirit.” The coach has noticed the icy silence between Luigi and you, and he decided to take… drastic measures. Everyone blames you. But hey, it’s not your fault if he’s a jerk. You haven’t spoken to him in three days. It’s starting to feel like a long time, but who is he to deserve your goodwill? After all, he hasn’t made the first move either, so why should you be the one to fix things when you’ve done nothing wrong?

“Hey Thomas, couldn’t you go and apologize to Luigi for me? I had a date with this girl, but now I have to go camping. Seriously.”

One of your teammates looks at you hopefully.

“Not a chance. Invite the girl to the camp instead.”

He walks away empty-handed. On the bus, you’re sitting up front with the coach while Luigi is way in the back, clearly avoiding you. The bus jolts to a stop on a bumpy road.

“We arrived to the destination !” announces the coach, far too cheerful for a Saturday morning.

Everyone climbs out, grumbling, dragging bags and tents. The air is crisp, and the scent of pine fills your lungs. You drop your bag, already planning to avoid Luigi all day—until the coach’s voice booms like a death sentence:

“Alright! You’re setting up the tents in pairs. And I’m choosing the pairs. Luigi and Thomas!”

Your heart sinks.

“Coach, I—” Luigi begins.

“No discussion,” the coach cuts in. “If you’ve got a problem, you solve it while you work.”

The others laugh and throw in mocking, “Good luck!”

Now it’s just the two of you, bags at your feet. Heavy silence.

“Here, take the stakes,” Luigi says, given them to you.

“You could say ‘please.’”

“Please.”

You sigh. “Don’t they make those pop-up tents you just unfold?”

“It’s part of the experience. Help me instead of complaining.”

The tension rises fast. Soon, you’re both wrestling the tent like rival contestants in a world-record competition—each working from opposite sides. Predictably, it ends badly: the fabric droops, the stakes bend, and the whole thing collapses on top of you. Trapped under the fabric, you feel him move beside you, his hand brushing your shoulder.

“Move!”

“You’re the one stuck!”

“No, you are!”

You finally crawl out, hair a mess, covered in leaves and dust. A few guys clap sarcastically.

“Nice job, lovebirds!”

“He’s a jerk!” you shout.

Luigi clenches his jaw. You look away, catching something in his eyes—not just annoyance, but something else, shyness maybe.

“Let’s put it back up,” he says at last, calmer.

“And why the sudden change in tone?” You ask, still mad at him.

“Because if we keep yelling at each other, we’re sleeping outside. And… you’re not exactly the type to handle the cold, are you?” He smirks, teasing.

Night falls quickly, swallowing the pines in thick shadows. Conversations soften around the campfire while the coach tells a story about a hiker attacked by a wild boar (“but he survived, don’t worry”). Your shoulders are already tense. It’s time to sleep.

“Thomas and Luigi, where are you sleeping?” someone asks, on purpose.

You’re about to protest, but Luigi rolls his eyes.

“Forget it. We’ll share a tent.”

You mutter, “No way.” But it’s that or the bare ground—and with the strange forest noises, the decision’s not hard. Also Luigi is the one you trust the most, even if everyone think that you’re a man, you’re still a women and he’s the one with the best manners, he’s also your roommate, you’re used to him.

Inside, the air is warm, smelling faintly of damp fabric. Luigi zips himself into his sleeping bag, facing away. You both stay at opposite ends, leaving as much space as possible—a silent display of mutual stubbornness. You close your eyes, but they stay open. A rustle outside makes you flinch.

“What was that?” you whisper.

“The wind,” he replies without opening his eyes, with already a tired voice. Another sound, closer—a scraping noise.

“No, that’s not the wind. I swear something’s out there!”

You sit up, ready to leap out, but Luigi’s hand closes gently around your wrist.

“Breathe. If it were an animal, the coach would’ve heard it. It’s just a branch.”

His voice is surprisingly calm. You still feel the warmth of his hand despite the cold night air.

“You’re afraid of bugs too?”

“Not bugs… spiders. And… crawling things.”

He gives a faintly mocking smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from both wild animals and spiders.” He said, you don’t know if he’s serious or joking, can’t see his face in the night.

“I’m still not comforted,” you admit.

He glances away, then you hear him pats the space next to him.

“Come here. Closer.” He propose.

“Why?”

“Maybe being near me will make you feel safer.” He explains.

“You think you’re that important?” What did he think ? You’re still mad at him.

“Forget it.” He lies back down.

But then another branch snaps outside, and you practically fling yourself toward him. His chest rises and falls against you, each breath brushing warmth across your skin. Without hesitation, he slips an arm around your waist, drawing you close enough to send your heartbeat stumbling.

You go still, listening—to him, to the steady rhythm of his breathing. It isn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. The heat of his body contrasts with the chill sneaking in through the tent’s zipper, and little by little, the tightness in your muscles begins to ease.

“Feel better ?” He asks, even if you’re not seeing it, you can imagine his little smirk.

“Have no choice.”

“I didn’t force you.” He laugh.

The forest noises fade, as if his arm around your waist were an invisible shield. You hate that it works. Silence settles in, broken only by the wind in the branches and the soft rustle of sleeping bags. You think he’s asleep—until he murmurs:

“I’m sorry…” His voice vibrates against you, low, almost a whisper. “Sorry for earlier. And… for before, too. I acted like a jerk.”

You don’t answer. What would you even say? He was a jerk, and he owes you at least that. You want to stay mad a little longer, but your defenses crumble anyway. His hand slides from your arm to rest lightly on yours, making you shiver.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he asks, your silence getting to him. “Say something—I get bored without you.” He shifts to look at you, only to presume that you’re already asleep. Or at least, pretending to be.

You wake to a soft, almost weightless feeling—you haven’t left Luigi’s arms all night. He’s the perfect mix of sedative and sleeping pill; his presence is like a drug. You’ve been awake for a good ten minutes, but you don’t want to move. He’s still asleep, and you’re far too comfortable here.

Your gaze drifts to his large hand wrapped around yours. You turn carefully to face him without waking him. His curls spill over his forehead, his cheeks flushed from warmth, beads of sweat glistening at his temples. He’s beautiful.

“What are you looking at, butthead ?” he murmurs, still half-asleep.

You instantly look away. You’re about to come up with a retort when the zipper on your tent slides down, revealing the head of one of your teammates. Luigi and you sit up immediately. Judging by the surprise on his face, you fear he might have just seen something.

“Rise and shine.”

“Get out!” Luigi snaps, clearly not a morning person—you’ve noticed that before.

“This tent is not secure at all. See how easily he just walked in? I was right to freak out last night. And now he’s seen us—he’s gonna tell everyone,” you grumble.

“I don’t care. Let him talk. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. Everyone will know what ?”

“Huh that we slept close.” You respond immediately.

“You don’t want them to see us close ?” He asks, really interested.

“N-no, I don’t mind… It’s just for you… always bragging about not being gay..”

“So if I’m close to my best friend I’m immediately gay ? The shortcut is huuuge.” Luigi runs a hand through his hair, then, more softly: “Hey… did you hear me last night?” He changes the subject.

“Hear what?” you play dumb.

 

“So you didn’t hear… I was apologizing. For being a jerk. I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “Lu, is this gonna be a pattern? You act like an ass, apologize, and we go back to normal like nothing happened?”

“I mean it. I hate being on bad terms with you. You’re my best friend.”

“Then act like it.”

“What do I have to do for you to forgive me?”

“I don’t know…”

You climb out of the tent.

“Sleep well?” the rest of the team teases immediately.

“Shut it,” you mutter, squinting against the morning light.

Luigi emerges behind you, stretching as if nothing happened. “Yeah, yeah, very funny…” he says flatly, though you catch the edge of a smile.

The coach doesn’t help. “Glad to see cohabitation is working.” He said, proudly.

“Not really, Coach. Thomas still won’t accept my apology…” Luigi says, turning to you with a grin.

“Why, Thomas?” the coach frowns.

You shrug. No explanation, no interest in giving one. Luigi walks over and hands you a steaming cup of coffee—made exactly how you like it.

“Thanks,” you say. He just smiles in return.

The coach claps his hands.

“Alright, everyone! Team hike today. We leave in ten minutes.”

The trail is narrow, hugging a steep slope. Pine trees scrape the sky, their branches letting only shards of light through. Ahead of you, Luigi chats with another teammate while you hang back, lost in thought.

Then your foot slips on a slick rock. In a heartbeat, your balance is gone—you’re tilting toward the drop. The ground disappears beneath you. A cry rips from your throat—

“Thomas!”

A hand clamps around your forearm, hard enough to hurt, yanking you back onto the trail. You’re nose-to-nose with Luigi, both of you breathing hard.

“Damn it, can’t you watch where you’re going? Are you okay?” he scolds.

When you try to stand, pain flares in your ankle. You can’t put weight on it, and Luigi notices immediately.

“We need to get you back to the camp.”

“No way, I can walk.”

“No, you can’t. This could be serious. You’re an athlete—you need that ankle. Coach!”

The group halts.

“Thomas twisted his ankle. I’ll take him back,” Luigi says.

“How?” the coach asks.

“I’ll carry him. You guys keep going.”

Before you can argue, Luigi kneels in front of you and taps his shoulder.

“Get on,” he orders, leaving no room for discussion.

You hesitate, embarrassed by the stares, but the throbbing pain kills your pride. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck, your chest pressing against his back. His hands hook under your thighs with practiced ease, and he lifts you in one smooth motion, steady as if you weigh nothing.

“Hold on,” he murmurs over his shoulder, softer than he means to.

The walk back is quick. He sets you down gently by your tent and grabs the medical kit. A burst of cold spray numbs your ankle.

“That’ll help with the swelling. Better?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“Yeah… thanks.”

He smiles reassuringly, then disappears to fetch food and water. He hands you a sandwich and a bottle, then stays with you all afternoon—hydrating you, massaging your ankle, checking on you. By sunset, you’re moving better, even bouncing a little, despite his warnings.

“See, Lu? I’m fine!” you hop beside him.

“Glad you are, but take it easy,” he warns, the coach nodding in agreement. You ignore them.

“He never listens…” Luigi mutters, rolling his eyes, with a little smile.

The sky darkens quickly after a long day. Back in the tent, things between you are… surprisingly better. You’ve already forgiven him, though you won’t say it out loud—he won’t get that satisfaction. He switches on the flashlight.

“Let me see your ankle.”

“I’m fine, Lu. Didn’t you see me jumping around?”

He smiles. “Just making sure. You better not be faking.” He put his hands on your ankle, massaging it gently.

“…Thank you… For today.” You can’t take off your eyes of him.

“That’s what best friends do.” He winks at you. “Alright I think you’re right.” He let you go.

You’re fixing your sleeping bag when you feel his eyes on you. You turn, ready to make a snarky remark to break the odd silence—only he moves first. His lips brush yours. It’s so light you could mistake it for an accident… except his breath trembles against your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. His eyes lock on yours, searching for validation. For a moment, he hesitates, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants as if he’s fighting himself. Then he leans in again. This time, his lips press more firmly to yours. There’s no doubt now—Luigi is kissing you. You never thought he’d do this. His touch is tender, careful, exactly how you’d imagined it.

He pulls back, his breath warm against your skin, his gaze flicking away like he’s only now realizing what he’ve done. You could let him go… but you don’t want to. Before he can retreat, your hand slides behind his neck, pulling him back. This time, you kiss him—harder, with the urgency that’s been simmering in you since his lips first met yours. He freezes for a fraction of a second, surprised… then kisses you back. This time it’s more passionate, more ardent.

It spirals quickly—his fingers grip your waist, his breath mingling with yours, the kiss deepening, turning real. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling, breathless.

“If you think kissing me is gonna make me forgive you,” you manage between breaths, “you’re delusional.”

A faint, almost bashful smile tugs at his lips. “I—I just wanted to…” He trails off, eyes flicking away. “Wanted to kiss you..”

You can’t wipe the grin off your face. You still can’t believe it happened. Maybe you’re dreaming.

“We should sleep,” he murmurs.

“Yeah…” you breathe, making no effort to move away.

He opens his sleeping bag and motions for you to come closer.

“Come here.”

You slip in beside him, feeling his warmth, his comforting scent. His arm settles around your shoulders, your head naturally finding his chest. He stays awake for a while, absently running his fingers through your hair. You listen to his heartbeat under your ear, thinking you could stay like this all night. Slowly, your breathing falls into sync… and sleep takes you—still in each other’s arms.

The wake-up is soft. You open your eyes slowly, realizing Luigi is already gone. But a moment later, he reappears—this time with breakfast in hand. He’s so thoughtful.

“I brought everything you like. Just don’t touch the sandwich—coach made it, and I’m pretty sure it’s not edible. Probably dumped a ton of protein powder and other weird stuff in there.”

“Oh… okay. You’re cute, thank you. How are you feeling?” you ask, sharing the food he’s brought. You’re testing him, maybe he’s regretting…

“Great,” he says, leaning in to kiss you. “Even better now.” His grin is wide and warm. “The others are starting to suspect something. I ran into Steven this morning—he said he heard strange noises coming from our tent last night.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That we kissed all night long. He didn’t believe me, of course.”

You frown. “That’s… honest.”

“I’ll start packing our things. Don’t worry about it, just eat.” he says, giving you one last kiss before stepping away.

You both gather your belongings—though Luigi clearly does most of the work—and head back to the bus that brought you here. This time, you’re seated side by side. Hidden caresses, stolen kisses, fleeting glances, and quiet laughter—everything wrapped in discretion.

Back in everyday life, something has shifted. It’s subtle—most people wouldn’t notice—but you feel it in every touch, every look. You’re more tender with each other now. The easy rapport you’ve always had is still there, but it’s laced with a new kind of warmth, the kind that belongs only to lovers. Luigi dotes on you. You never doubted his kindness, but now it’s almost too much—he makes your coffee before you can ask, brings you your gear at practice, checks if you’ve eaten, always there, always checking if you’re okay and invents a hundred excuses to brush against you. His gestures are so natural they could go unnoticed… but not by your teammates. Sometimes you can feel their eyes on you. They suspect something, though no one dares to ask.

You’re lying together on Luigi’s bed, his arm draped around your waist. He kisses your cheek… then your lips… then the hollow of your neck. His mouth drifts lower, tracing your skin, down to your chest. Your heart races. A dizzy rush takes you. Instinctively, you cradle his face in your hands, guiding him back up to you. The kiss that follows is deeper, more urgent. Your breaths mingle, ragged. Your fingers tangle in his curls, holding on like you’re afraid he might slip away. You can feel his smile against your skin. Eventually, you break apart to catch your breath.

“D-do you… know how to?” he asks, cheeks flushed, eyes averted. “I don’t really have much experience… at least not with guys.”

You kiss him again, just to feel that softness.

“I think… it should come naturally,” you say, though you’re no more certain than he is.

“But… shouldn’t we… I don’t know… have a condom? Lube?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. “Should we be… versatile or…?”

You don’t get the chance to answer—he’s kissing you again, slow and deep. You knelt in front of him. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the elastic of his sweatpants but you forced yourself to stay calm. He watched you intently, his breath quickening as you slowly pulled down the pants. your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. His breath hitched as you pulled them down, freeing his hardening length.

You took a moment to admire him, your own arousal building as you saw the way he reacted to your touch. His cock was thick and already straining against his stomach, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the head, and he let out a soft moan.

“Oh god,” he whispered, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as you swirled your tongue around the tip. You could taste him, salty and warm, and it only made you want more. You took him deeper into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his shaft as you began to move.

Luigi’s moans grew louder as you worked him, your tongue pressing against the sensitive underside of his cock. You moved one hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you continued to suck him off. The other hand rested on his thigh, feeling the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement of your mouth.

“You’re…” he started, but the words caught in his throat as you took him all the way to the back of your throat. His hands found their way to your hair, gripping it gently as he thrust his hips upward, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him.

You could feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming more ragged, his hips moving more urgently. You glanced up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his face was flushed with pleasure, his eyes half-closed as he lost himself in the sensation.

“I’m gonna…” he warned, but you didn’t stop. Instead, you took him even deeper, letting him feel every inch of your throat as he came. His grip on your hair tightened as he spilled himself into your mouth, his moans echoing through the room. He pulls you up to kiss you deeply. His hands slide to your hip, then lower, cupping you. They slip beneath your shirt, moving upward… but when they reach just under your bra, you freeze. You pull back abruptly.

“I… I can’t.”

He looks at you, concerned. “What? I did something wrong?”

“I’m… not ready,” you lie, masking the real reason. Then, with a hesitant smile, he asked :

“Wait—don’t tell me you’ve never been with a guy either?”

You look away. That’s not it. You have… but never like this, and never with a lie this heavy between you.

“I want us to take our time.” The only excuse you founded.

He runs his hand through your hair, his gaze warm and reassuring.

“I’ll wait. As long as it takes.” He kisses your cheek. “To be honest, I’m not prepared too, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

The weight of guilt crushes you. Tears sting your eyes before you can stop them. He’s so kind, so understanding… and you’ve been lying to him from the start.

“it’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, cupping your face and kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper.

He frowns.

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Then, with a teasing smirk: “You’re cute when you cry.”

“Shut up,” you reply, giving his shoulder a playful shove.

He laughs.

“Now that’s the Thomas I know.”

You curl back into him, resuming your previous position. Silence settles in, until he speaks again—hesitant.

“I’d like you to meet my family.”

You sit up, startled.

“As… a couple?”

“Yeah. My mom and sisters will love you. My dad… not sure. My grandma too, but I’m sure you’ll win them over—you’re pretty charming.”

Your chest tightens. Panic blooms. Meeting his family… that’s official. It leaves no room for escape.

“It feels weird having a boyfriend… but honestly, it’s just like having a girlfriend. Except… it’s a guy,” he says casually.

You smile outwardly, but inside, you’re torn apart. Summer is ending, and you’re sinking deeper into your lie.

Chapter Text

“I want you to meet my family,” Luigi announces.

Your heart skips a beat. Meet his family? The thought alone makes your head spin. It would make everything so real… and your lie so much harder to carry.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea. At least, not yet,” you say, fumbling for words.

“You’re my boyfriend, and I’m proud of that. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a real, serious relationship. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“It’s sweet… but maybe we should wait until the end of summer,” you suggest, your voice trembling just slightly. It would buy you time. Time to prepare for your departure.

“Alright.” He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then adds, “But I’d also like to meet yours. You never really talk about your family, do you?”

“Oh, there’s nothing much to say… they’re just a normal family,” you reply quickly, looking away, careful to dodge the details. The lie already burns in your chest.

He chuckles softly. “That makes me even more curious. I want to know where that larger-than-life personality of yours comes from. Who you take after, your mom or your dad. What you were like as a kid. If you’ve got brothers or sisters…”

His questions pile up, each one heavier than the last. But here, at least, you don’t have to hide. So you let a piece of truth slip out.

“I’ve got a little sister… and a brother. A twin.”

“Wait, seriously? You’ve been hiding a twin brother this whole time? That’s wild! It must be amazing, having a twin.”

“Yeah… amazing,” you mutter, bitterness lacing your tone.

He tilts his head, studying you. “You don’t sound convinced. You guys don’t get along?”

“It’s just that…”

Say it. Tell him. You’re dying to.

But Luigi catches the unease in your eyes. “Hey… if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. Don’t force yourself.”

You ache to spill everything, to open your heart. But fear clamps it shut. Fear of what he’ll say. Fear of losing him. You need him far too much to take that risk. So instead, you steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Do you remember that talk we had at the infirmary?”

He nods, a serious expression on his face.

“What did you mean by ‘other details’?”

“You mean… when you asked what I’d do if you were a girl?”

You nod again.

He exhales slowly, searching for the right words. “It’s just… my family is complicated. I come from a big, rich family, and they don’t want me dating just anyone.” Seeing your face fall, he quickly adds, “But you’re not just anyone. I assure you.”

You don’t take offense, but your chest tightens.

“They expect a girl from the right kind of family. Wealthy. Italian…” He gives a nervous half-smile, then finishes under his breath: “Actually, you don’t even check the very first box.”

“What do you mean?” You frown.

His smile grows faint, almost apologetic. “Being a girl…”

“Oh…” The word escapes you, fragile but weighted. Guilt slams into you, harder than ever.

He squeezes your hand gently, reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle them. I’m not leaving you, not now. You and me, this… it’s real.”

Then he leans in and kisses you, soft and lingering. And though the lie claws at you from the inside, Luigi’s warmth settles over your fears, soothing them for just a moment. In his arms, the truth fade, if only briefly.

•••The Next Morning

You both woke slowly, still wrapped around each other. Luigi blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the light then froze.

“Oh my god, Thomas, you’re bleeding.” He panicked.

“What?” You blinked in confusion, your mind still foggy.

“Your pajama pants… they’re covered in blood.”

You jerked upright halfway to look. Fuck. Shit. No. Your stomach dropped. Your period. You’d been so wrapped up in your lie you’d completely forgotten it was coming.

“Uh… it’s nothing, it’s… hemorrhoids! Yeah.” It was the only excuse you could come up with.

“Seriously? Hemorrhoids bleed that much? It’s everywhere. I’m taking you to the ER.” He was already getting up, searching for his keys, pulling on his clothes in a rush.

“No, wait! Don’t. I’ve dealt with this before. I can handle it, don’t worry.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I promise I’m fine. It’s normal, I’ve got everything I need.”

He hesitated, still watching you with concern. “Alright… but if anything gets worse, I’m dragging you to the hospital.”

You leaned up and stole a kiss, and he kissed you back with even more tenderness. You could feel his worry bleeding through the gesture. Grabbing clean clothes, a tampon, and toiletries, you slipped away to the bathroom but before you had to beg Luigi to not come with you, he’s so worried, he wants to check that everything is okay.
…
Training day. And of all times, it had to be today. You weren’t in the mood for anything, your body ached, your mood was frayed, and even Luigi’s presence made you snapier than usual… though, somehow, you wanted him more than ever. The other guys? Forget it. They were unbearable on a good day. You finally dragged yourself to the coach, clutching your stomach.

“Coach, I’ve really got a bad stomach ache. Can I go back to my room?”

From across the field, Luigi kept sneaking worried glances.

“You really in pain, kiddo? What’s wrong?”

“I think I ate something bad.”

“Alright, head back. But I want you fresh tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

You rushed to the locker room, grabbed your things, and made your way back. When you opened the door, you found Luigi had already stripped the bed and changed the sheets. The gesture made your chest tighten. You crawled onto his bed, inhaling his scent, it calmed you more than you wanted to admit. A few minutes later, he returned, still in his training gear, and found you curled on your side, knees drawn to your chest.

“Thomas, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine… just cramps. Must’ve eaten something off.” Another lie.

“I should call an ambulance.”

“No! I swear I’ve got it under control.”

He sighed, helpless, and sat beside you. His hand brushed gently over your back, the warmth easing you just a little.

“What can I do?” he murmured. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I don’t want to bother you, Lu.”

“Hey,” his voice softened, “you could never bother me. Just tell me what you need, I want to be here for you.”

You hesitated, then whispered, “…A hot water bottle. Something to eat. And water—lots of water.”

“Got it.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re too sweet,” slipped out before you could stop it.

He smiled softly and left. Slowly, exhaustion and pain lulled you into sleep, the only relief you could find. When Luigi returned an twenty minutes later, his arms full of supplies, he found you still asleep. He didn’t dare wake you. Sleeping through the pain was a rare gift, and he wouldn’t take it away from you. Quietly, he set everything down, showered, and came back to check on you. You hadn’t moved.

When your phone started ringing, Luigi rushed to silence it. He caught the screen just in time: ´Sis’ Without thinking too much, he answered, maybe she’s calling to have some new, and he wants to assure that everything is okay.

“Hello, my favorite sister!” She said brightly.

A pause. Then a puzzled voice:“Uh… this is Luigi. Hello.”

“…And who exactly are you? My sister’s new boyfriend?”

“Your sister? You mean your brother, don’t you?” Luigi frowned, utterly confused.

“No, no, I know my sister doesn’t exactly try to act feminine, but that’s no reason to mistake her for a guy.”

“I’m… completely lost here.”

“Me too. Listen, can you just pass me Y/n?”

“Y/n? Who’s that?”

“…Are you serious? Oh. I must’ve dialed the wrong number. Sorry for disturbing you. Have a nice day, sir.”

She hung up before Luigi could ask anything else. He froze, phone in hand, his brows furrowed. Questions flooded his mind, something was definitely off. Still, he decided to push it aside. What mattered now was making sure you felt better.

When you stirred, he was instantly at your side, brushing his fingers gently through your hair. You smiled up at him.

“You’re so sweet.”

“That’s what boyfriends are supposed to do, Thomas. Even if you were just a buddy, I’d be doing the same.”

“You’re a really good person. I’m so glad I met you.”

His cheeks flushed, it was the first time you’d said something that openly sincere. The words ‘I love you’ pressed against your lips, and he felt the same urge burning on his… but neither of you spoke them aloud.

“I brought you what you asked for: a hot water bottle, two packs of water, something to snack on. And when you’re ready for a proper meal, I’ll order from your favorite place.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Your gratitude came with a flurry of kisses. His blush deepened; he closed his eyes to savor every brush of your lips.

The whole day slipped away like that. Movie, naps, another movie after Luigi ordered takeout. Cozy, warm, wrapped up in him. Then, out of nowhere, he said:

“By the way… your sister called.”

Your body stiffened. “A-and… you answered?”

“Yeah. I wanted to tell her how you were doing, but it was weird. She kept saying you were her sister and that your name was Y/n.”

Panic shot through you. Shit.

“Uh… that’s just a game we play. I call her my brother, she calls me her sister. Inside joke.” You forced a casual laugh.

“Ohhh… I see. That explains it. I was so confused. Still, you should call her back she really wanted to talk to you.”

Relief washed over you, he’d bought it. But inside, you were fuming. You had told your siblings to be careful. You warned them. And still, your sister had slipped. You were going to kill her.

“I’ll do it tomorrow. If she hasn’t called back, it can’t be that important.” You pulled his arm tighter around you, burying yourself against him as if nothing had happened.

 

••• The next morning

You wake up before Luigi. Careful not to stir him, you slip out of bed, phone in hand, and sneak into a quiet corner where no one can hear you. You call your brother.

“Hey Sis !”

“Hi Thomas. Feeling better these days?”

“Much better. I think I’ll be able to cut your little university adventure short.”

You don’t know if you should feel relieved that it’s ending sooner, or heartbroken that it means leaving Luigi and everyone here behind.

“That’s… great. When do you think you’ll be back?”

“Hmm… when’s the big game?”

“End of August,” you answer.

“It’s better if you play instead of me. You know the team, the strategies.”

“Okay...”

“I just hope you didn’t ruin my reputation over there.”

You roll your eyes. Nobody cares about that at university.

“Everyone hates you here,” you tease.

“…Thanks. I owe you one.” He laugh.

“You’d better. You have no idea how hard it is pretending to be a guy.”

Suddenly, Sarah passes by. She greets you casually, and your heart freezes, you pray she didn’t hear.

“Alright, I gotta go. Take care. Bye.”

“Bye, sis.”

You hang up, but a knot twists in your gut. Something tells you what just happened will have consequences. It feels like the kind of moment that sets things in motion. Still, Sarah had headphones on… maybe she didn’t catch anything. Maybe. Either way, you know you have to tell Luigi the truth. You’ve already had one close call with your sister’s phone call yesterday. Next time, you might not get so lucky. You return to the room just as Luigi wakes up.

“Good morning, Tom,” he smiles, eyes still heavy with sleep, his morning voice low and unbearably sexy.

“Good morning!”

You sit down beside him.

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something,” he starts.

“So did I.”

Finally, you think. Finally, you’ll reveal the truth. The weight of the lie has been crushing you, and you’re done hiding. You want your relationship to be real, with no secrets between you. Luigi as your partner, your confidant.

“What kind of nonsense are you about to throw at me this time?” he jokes.

“It’s… about us.”

His brow arches.

“Okay bu please let me go first. Then you can talk.” He insists.

You stay quiet, letting him speak.

“Thomas, I really, really like you. I don’t want this to end. It’s my last year here, and once I graduate, I’ll have to move away. So I thought… maybe we could get an apartment together, once I’m done with college.”

Your heart skips a beat. He’s picturing a future with you, a future that feels so right yet so fragile, because it’s built on your lie. His words are so tender, so full of love. And here you are, about to shatter it all. Still… the thought of living with him, sharing that space, feels intoxicating. Your life together in your dorm already works so well, why not in your own place?

“So? What do you think?” he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I know it’s early to bring this up, but I don’t want to pretend. I don’t want to play it cool with you. I want you to know exactly how much I care.”

His eyes shine with sincerity. You don’t deserve him in this moment.

“I’d love that!” you blurt out. The lie isn’t about how you feel, it’s only about who you are. “It’s a wonderful idea.”

He beams, leaning in to kiss you.

“Perfect. I was worried I’d scare you off, but turns out we’re on the same page.” He exhales with relief. “Now… what was it you wanted to tell me?”

“Oh, nothing compared to what you just said,” you deflect.

“Come on, tell me. I’m hanging on every word.”

“I… ran into Sarah earlier. She didn’t look upset.”

“Ah, well. To be honest, since I’m with you, I haven’t noticed anyone else.” He chuckles.

“We’re in our own little bubble, and I like it that way.” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and kiss him again.

 

•••A few days later

Things with Luigi couldn’t be better. You’re growing closer every day, like the more time passes, the more you just fit. He’s your person, really. Then, suddenly, the director summons you to his office “as soon as possible.” Your stomach twists. Why now? Damn it, someone must have found out.
You walk in and freeze. Sarah is already there, phone in hand. You greet them stiffly, sit down as instructed. The director clears his throat.

“Mr. Thomas, I’ve called you in because this student, Miss Sarah, has brought forward some very serious claims. She alleges you’ve been impersonating someone else.”

Your chest tightens.

Sarah steps forward, smug. “It’s true. Look. I found her LinkedIn profile. She deleted all her other socials but forgot about that one. And I overheard her on the phone in the hallway. She’s not who she pretends.”

Shit. You thought you covered all your tracks. One stupid oversight, and now you’re cornered.

The director folds his hands. “So, mister or perhaps miss, I’ve brought you here to hear your side of the story.”

Breathe. Bluff. Stay calm.

“Sir, I’ve known Sarah since my arrival here. I turned her down, and now she wants revenge. This is nothing but lies.”

Every card you have, you throw down. You know that what’s you’ve just said is mean and wrong but you have no choice. You can’t let your brother lose his scholarship, his future, over a LinkedIn slip-up.

“What?!” Sarah explodes. “That’s ridiculous, she’s lying! She is a woman, and I have proof on my phone.”

“Calm yourself, Miss Sarah,” the director says sharply.

You seize your chance. “There’s someone who can vouch for me. Someone who knows me better than anyone, Luigi Mangione. Call him. Ask him yourself.”

The director hesitates, then nods. “Very well.”

Sarah groans. “This is nonsense.”

Moments later, Luigi walks into the office. Instinctively, he comes to stand by your side.

“Mr. Mangione,” the director begins. “We require your testimony. Miss Sarah accuses your friend here of falsifying his identity. Tell me: is this person a man, or a woman?”

Luigi’s eyes flick to yours, confusion storming behind them. He wasn’t prepared for this.

But then: “I know Thomas. He’s my roommate… and my boyfriend. I’ve been with him intimately. He’s not a woman. I can swear to that.”

Silence. Sarah’s jaw drops.

“Well, there we have it,” the director says firmly. “Miss Sarah, do you have anything to add?”

“…No,” she mutters, lowering her head.

“I believe an apology is needed,” Luigi suggests coldly.

Sarah stands, face to face with you. “I. Am. Sorry,” she spits, flat, no sincerity.

“It’s fine,” you answer softly.

The three of you leave together. But as soon as you’re in the hallway, Sarah turns on Luigi.

“Luigi, use your brain. Think of all the weird little things Thomas has done. Put the pieces together.”

“Sarah, enough,” Luigi snaps. “It’s pathetic to hold a grudge over rejection. Thomas let you down kindly, don’t be cruel.”

She sighs. “Fine. But one last thing.” She presses something on her phone.

You grab Luigi’s arm. “Let’s go.”

She sends him your LinkedIn profile. He doesn’t even look. He just takes your hand and leaves with you. Back in your dorm room, silence stretches between you.

“Why aren’t you saying anything, Thomas?” His voice is flat, unreadable.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Will you tell me the truth…”

Your heart drops. He’s figured it out.

“I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me for weeks. I trusted you.”

“I swear, I wanted to tell you… I just couldn’t.”

“Why? Why would you do this?” Slowly, everything starts clicking in his mind. “That’s why you never changed in the locker room. Why you always showered late at night. The hemorrhoids excuse ? You had your period, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t want to go to the hospital. And that call from your sister… I knew something was off. God, you played me for a fool.”

“Luigi, please. I lied about who I was because I had to! It was for my brother, he would’ve lost his scholarship, his place at the university. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But you could’ve trusted me. I wouldn’t have told anyone. Do you know what I went through? I spent sleepless nights questioning everything, thinking I was gay, while you stood there lying to my face.”

“I’m sorry! I was terrified of losing you. You were my best friend, my safe place… I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Well, congratulations. You lost me anyway. We’re done. I don’t want to see you again.”

The tears break free, your throat closing around sobs. “I’m sorry… truly. No one else knows, I swear.”

“I’ll keep your little secret. But I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

“My feelings were real. I never faked them.” You add, just in case.

“Okay ? What do you want me to do?” He don’t even look at you.

“I’m sorry..” Your voice cracks as you leave. He doesn’t answer.

You slip out, shaken. You’ll avoid him from now on, late nights in, early mornings out.
…
The next day in the cafeteria, you sit alone, hollow. The whole team notices and joins you, Luigi trailing behind reluctantly. They see the distance instantly, hard to miss, when you two were always glued together.

“Hey, Thomas, what’s going on with you and Luigi? He acts like a jerk since this morning.” one of them asks.

Your mouth opens, but you’ve got nothing left to lie with. You’re drained.

“…Uh…” you begin.

“We had a fight over League of Legends,” Luigi cuts in smoothly, still not looking at you.

The group bursts out laughing.

“A stupid fight, yeah,” you echo quietly.

“Let’s just change the subject,” Luigi sighs.

Even now, even shattered, he’s keeping your secret. And despite everything, you can’t help but love him for that.

 

••• Match Day

It’s been a week since you last spoke to Luigi, or rather, since he last spoke to you. You didn’t insist; deep down, you know you would have reacted the same way. You can’t even blame him for acting like this. It’s the end of summer, and today marks the first official match of the season. Your first real match too, against real opponents.
Your stomach is in knots, a storm of nerves and relief. Luigi finally knowing the truth lifted a weight off your shoulders, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Once this game is over, it’ll be done. You’ll return to your old life. Still, you want to make the most of these last moments, because despite everything, you’ve made memories here you’ll never forget. Even if you wish things had ended better with Luigi. He avoids you now, won’t even meet your eyes. But at least he’s kepping your secret. That alone proves his loyalty and how much he still cares, whether he admits it or not.

The team huddles together. The coach stands by your side, the substitutes and the mascot hovering nearby. You wear the scarlet jersey, your university colors, your pride. One last chant, shouted in unison, before the whistle blows. The match begins. Adrenaline surges through your veins. For the first few minutes, neither team dominates, it’s a battle of equals. You’re so focused, everything else falls away: Luigi, your problems, all the lies. It’s just you, the field, and the game. Then, your team scores. The crowd erupts. You celebrate with your teammates, and just for a heartbeat, you swear you catch Luigi watching you. But you can’t afford the distraction. Not now. Time ticks closer to halftime. The score is tight. Then suddenly—bam. You’re shoved hard, sent crashing to the ground.

“Faggot,” spits an opponent, his voice dripping with contempt.

Anger explodes inside you. You spring to your feet and shove him back.

“What the hell did you just say, asshole?!”you snap.

He spins around, ready to retort but Luigi is there first. He slams into the guy, shoving him even harder.

“Say that again to someone your own size, you piece of shit!” Luigi roars.

The opponent sneers. “What, boyfriend to the rescue?”

The tension skyrockets. Teammates swarm in, the field is seconds away from chaos, until the referee storms over. A yellow card for you. A yellow card for Luigi. And for your harasser? A straight red. He’s out. The halftime whistle blows. You storm off to the locker room, boiling with rage. You splash water on your face, but it does nothing to cool you down.

“Hey, what are you doing hiding here? The coach is giving instructions.”

It’s Luigi. You’re sure the coach sent him, because there’s no way he’d comfort you on his own… not anymore.

“Leave me alone. I just need to calm down.” You respond, breathless.

“Since when do you care so much about what others say?” he asks softly. His tone isn’t mocking, it’s steady, grounding, like he’s trying to pull you back to reality.

You exhale shakily. “Since you stopped talking to me… I just… I can’t wait for this to be over. For everything to go back to normal.”

He lowers his head. And for the first time, you see it, the sadness flickering across his face. He took your words as regret. As if you regret being with him.

“So you regret us?” His voice is tight, wounded.

“Never,” you say quickly. “I’ll never regret loving you. Not for a second.”

The rest of the team bursts into the locker room. He wouldn’t respond anyway.

“Thomas, don’t let those jerks get to you. Come on, we need you out there!” the coach says, clapping you on the shoulder. “You guys are killing it ! Keep it up!”

Their encouragement warms something inside you. The bond, the solidarity, the way they lift each other up—l, it steadies your heartbeat. You breathe deeply. You’re ready again. The second half begins, and this time, your team dominates. Luigi scores the second goal, then another follows, and another. The crowd goes wild. The mascot dances, the cheerleaders scream, and when the final whistle blows, you’ve won.
Joy explodes across the field. You’re wrapped in a collective hug with your teammates, shouts and laughter blending into the roar of the stands. Luigi is right next to you. His arm brushes against your shoulders, settling there casually, as if it belongs. You close your eyes for a second, savoring it. This last contact. This last moment. You swear you feel his gaze lingering on you. And you let yourself believe it.

 

•••A Few Days Later

Summer is ending. You’re packing your things into boxes, just a few personal belongings. Most of the rest belongs to your brother anyway. The door opens. Luigi steps inside, then stops, watching you in silence.

“You’re packing?” he finally asks.

You’re surprised that he’s talking to you.

“Yeah. I’m leaving today. Since no one knows my secret, I can’t really say goodbye to anyone… except you.” You close the box and turn to face him. “Even if things ended badly, I’m glad I met you.” You glance at the clock. “It’s time. My sister’s waiting for me. Goodbye, Luigi.”

You don’t dare reach out, not even for a handshake, even if you’re dying just for a kiss, a last single kiss. He nods slowly. His expression isn’t angry, not exactly sad either, something between nostalgia and indifference, a look you can’t quite read and don’t want to. Clearing his throat, he says:

“I’ll help you carry that. A gentleman doesn’t let a lady haul everything alone.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes. You give him a grateful smile. He lifts the box with effortless ease, while you had struggled even with the smaller one. Together, you walk to the car. He loads everything neatly into the trunk. You’re about to get in when you pause.

“Thank you… for everything, Luigi.”

You already miss him.

“It’s nothing. I…” He starts to say something, his words hovering in the air. You hold your breath, waiting. But then he swallows it down, shaking his head.

You climb into the car. He turns back toward campus. The moment the car starts, tears well in your eyes. He’s already slipping away from your life, and the thought of not seeing him anymore shatters your heart.

 

••• A Few Months Later

You’ve gone back to your normal life, and it feels good. You didn’t expect it, but you got used to it quickly. The more time passes, the less you think about Luigi. He’s still somewhere in the back of your mind, but nothing like before. It was… a very unusual breakup. You’re lying in bed when the phone rings. It’s the police station.

“Hello, ma’am. Are you Thomas’s sister?” a woman asks on the line, and you immediately feel a wave of worry.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“We’re calling to let you know that he’s been arrested, and you need to come pick him up at the station. He asked us to contact you.”

“I’ll be there right away.”

You quickly grab your things and your car keys. Your younger sister asks where you’re going.

“I have no idea what Thomas has done, but I need to pick him up. You coming?”

She doesn’t ask questions and follows you. What on earth has he done? This isn’t like him at all. He’s always been a calm, kind guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. When you arrive at the station, you see him sitting on a chair with an ice pack over his right eye. His clothes are dirty, and he looks like a complete mess. He’s wearing his university team jersey. Clearly, he’s been in a fight.

“You look terrible,” your sister remarks bluntly.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice full of concern.

Thomas jerks his head in another direction. You turn and see Luigi, in the same rough shape, also wearing a team jersey. And suddenly, you’re worried about him too.

“Are you okay?” you ask your brother before getting any explanations.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I got a few good hits in too,” he says with a grin.

You give him a light smack on the shoulder.

“Ow! What did I say?” he protests.

Your sister laughs, openly teasing him.

“There’s nothing to brag about,” you scold.

“This is just pathetic,” she adds, shaking her head.

“I was just defending my sister. He was talking trash about you in front of me. What was I supposed to do?”

“H-he was talking about me?” The thought stings… You didn’t expect Luigi to behave like that.

“Yeah. He said you were a liar, that you had no self-respect. So, I defended you, and… well, things escalated.”

“It’s sweet that you wanted to defend my honor, but it’s not worth it. Next time, don’t get yourself beaten up for this, Thomas,” you tell him.

Now it all makes sense.

“Oh my God, Luigi!”

It’s his mother. She rushes over to him, panicked, hugging him tightly while he reassures her that he’s fine. His father is there too, speaking with one of the officers after checking on his son.

“We should go,” you suggest. You don’t feel like running into them.

Your sister helps Thomas to his feet, and you all start heading out of the station.

“Hey!”

It’s him. You turn around while your brother and sister keep walking toward the parking lot. Luigi comes toward you, leaving the ice pack on his chair. His parents are still talking to the police.

“Look… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he says quietly.

“Seriously? We ended things months ago. I apologized, we talked things through, and it was over. I get that it’s hard to accept, but maybe you should stop bringing it up.” You’re mad.

“Stop bringing it up? You betrayed me. You lied to me for weeks. I lost my boyfriend and my best friend at the same time. Can you blame me for still being angry?” He protest.

“But it’s been months, Luigi! Aren’t there other girls or boys on campus you can move on with? You told me yourself you didn’t want to see me anymore, that you wanted me out of your life. I respected that. But don’t drag me into your drama again. This time we’ll let it slide, but if it happens again, Luigi, I promise you I’ll always take my brother’s side.”

“It’s always been about your brother, hasn’t it? I never stood a chance against him,” he mutters.

Is he… jealous? That’s insane. He’s the one who didn’t want to see you anymore, what did he expect?

“I can’t comfort you anymore. I’m not in your life, and it’s better that way. You were clear, you didn’t want me around. I respected that.”

He sighed. “…My parents won’t press charges. I asked them not to,” he says, changing the subject.

“Mm-hm… okay,” you reply flatly. What does he mean, press charges? He started this whole mess. But you don’t have the energy to continue the fight. “Goodbye, Luigi.”

He nods slightly and look at you walk away.

 

••• Fourth of June

Your brother’s game is over, but you can’t stop thinking about Luigi. Maybe he’s here somewhere. You notice the rows of chairs set up for the new graduates, and maybe, just maybe, Luigi is among them. You know you shouldn’t be thinking about him. It’s over. He made that very clear. But you want to see him one last time, happy. Because your last memory of him is nothing but anger and sadness. You sit on a chair near the locker rooms, waiting for your brother, watching the graduation ceremony slowly take shape. Students start taking their seats while families and friends fill the stands. Soon, the place is packed. And then you see him. Your heart skips a beat. He’s with the same friends who used to be yours too. He’s smiling, laughing, wearing his graduation gown, looking so handsome. As the names are called, you stay longer than you planned. You want more. You want to hear his name, to see him one more time.

When they call him, he walks up the stage with confidence, that same charisma and smile he’s always had. He shakes hands firmly, looking so sure of himself.
And then… his eyes meet yours. Just for a second. He freezes briefly before heading back to his seat. You don’t know if he really saw you. You decide to leave anyway. The ceremony is nearly over, and your brother still hasn’t shown up. You call him. No answer.

“What the hell is he doing…” you mutter, impatient, calling again.

But then you hear a voice behind you.

“You grew your hair out !”

You recognize it instantly. It’s Luigi.

You turn around, and there he is, in his graduation gown, looking fresh. He walks toward you in silence, a smile tugging at his lips. You don’t really know how to act. Are we upset ? Or happy to see him ? You don’t really know. He reaches you, he stops, takes a moment, and studies you.

“You’ve become a woman,” he teases.

“Shut up.” It slips out naturally, like old times when you were friends… or more than that.

Here’s this feeling again, you’re forgetting everything with him. You’re not mad anymore, it’s like you only remember the good times.

“There you are. Only the outside changed, huh?” He tease again.

“What’s up, bro?” you joke back.

He laughs. “Well, as you can see, freshly graduated.”

“Congratulations. You deserve it. And I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you very much… What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my brother’s game. Now I’m waiting for him. No idea where he disappeared to.”

“Oh, I see. For a second, I thought you came to see me because you missed me,” he says with a grin.

Terribly. You miss him terribly. But you don’t dare say it.

“I…” You hesitate. Everything you want to say, you don’t know if he wants to hear it.

“I made peace with your brother,” he says suddenly.

“Yeah, he told me.”

“He’s actually a nice guy, you guys have the same humor,” Luigi admits with a small shrug.

“Don’t fall in love with him,” you joke, then regret it immediately. Too soon, maybe.

But he laughs. A real laugh.

“You’re unbelievable. Making fun of me already?” he teases.

“Sorry, it just slipped out.”

“No, don’t apologize. That was funny. I always loved your sense of humor.” He pauses, then adds softly, “But I can’t fall in love with him. I’m already in love with someone else.”

“Oh… cool cool cool…”

So, he took your advice and moved on. That’s… good. You should be happy for him. He laugh, again.

“It’s you idiot… I missed you… a lot,” he says suddenly, voice quieter now.

You wonder if you heard him right or if you’re just imagining it.

“I missed you too…,” you admit softly.

He takes a small step closer.

“I regret everything I said to you in anger. I regret fighting your brother. I’ve thought a lot during these months without you, and the truth is… I miss you terribly. I don’t love you because you’re a man or a woman. I love you because you’re you, because you’re a great person. I feel comfortable with you. You’re my best friend… and the person I love. It’s up to you now, if you still want me in your life, or if you’ve moved on. I’d understand if—”

“Yes!” you blurt out instantly.

“Yes you want me in your life, or yes you’ve moved on?” he asks, needing to be sure.

“Yes, I want to be with you. I’m so sorry for lying to you back then. I want to be with you, all the time, every day. Losing you felt like losing part of myself.”

He smiles, wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You’re chest to chest now when he kisses you, deeply, intensely, like it’s the last time. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight.

You stay in each other’s arms for a long moment. Finding him again feels like breathing.

“But you have to stop calling me bro” he jokes.

“But I love calling you that…”

Reluctantly, you pull apart. He takes out his phone, hands it to a passerby.

“You mind taking a picture of me and my girlfriend, please?” he asks politely.

He wraps his arm around you again, smiling wide. You smile too, the first picture of you two together, as you as a girl.

“You look beautiful,” he says when he sees the photo.

“And you… you look very handsome. Very charismatic,” you reply.

He’s about to answer when someone calls his name from afar.

“Oh no… that’s my mom.”

Of course. His family would be here.

“Uh… do you want to meet them? Or should we take it slow? Because last time I suggested you to met them, you weren’t enthusiastic about it so… it’s up to you.” he asks carefully.

Last time, you weren’t ready to meet them—too many secrets back then. But this time, there’s nothing left to hide. You finally feel free.

“No, I’d love to,” you say simply.

He smiles, takes your hand.

“Then let’s go.”

Luigi didn’t let go of your hand as you crossed the lawn together. His family spotted him first, his mother waving, his father standing tall with that unmistakable proud look. You braced yourself for awkwardness. Instead, his mother pulled him into a tight hug, laughing through tears, then turned to you with the same open warmth.

“And this is…?” she asked, eyes curious but kind.

Luigi’s hand tightened around yours. “This is Y/n,” he said simply. “The girl I told you about.”

Your cheeks warmed, but his mother smiled so widely you couldn’t help smiling back.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” she said, hugging you like she’d known you forever.

His father shook your hand, firm but gentle, and his sisters giggled for seing him like this for the first time. The air was full of laughter, the fading sun painting everything gold.

Luigi leaned close, voice low so only you could hear. “Everything’s okay?.”

“Yeah don’t worry,” you promised.

The introductions went better than you imagined. His mother talked to you like she already knew your whole story. His father asked about school, work, life—nothing too heavy, just enough to make you feel welcome. And Luigi never let go of your hand. Not once.
The ceremony wrapped up, families started leaving for dinners and parties, and his mom insisted you come along. “Luigi wants his loved ones with him,” she said, her smile impossible to refuse.
So you accepted. The restaurant was small and warm, fairy lights strung across the ceiling, the smell of fresh pasta and bread everywhere. Luigi sat close enough that your knees brushed under the table, his hand finding yours whenever no one was looking—except they were looking. His sisters smiled every time seeing it.

Later, outside under the streetlights, everyone hugged goodbye. His family left first, promising to see you again soon. And then it was just you and Luigi, the night soft and quiet around you. He looked at you like he didn’t want this moment to end.

“You want to come to my apartment?” He propose.

“Yeah I would love it, just a minute I send a message to my brother.”

“Okay…”

His grin was slow, full of relief, like he’d been waiting months to hear you say that. He kissed you again, softer this time. You climb into his car, and Luigi, ever the gentleman, takes care to open the door for you. His apartment isn’t far, and within minutes you’re pulling up to a quiet little building. When you step inside, you’re immediately greeted by his scent, the faint freshness of laundry, familiar and comforting.

“Hum, I just moved in,” he admits, closing the door behind him. “I’ve only got the essentials for now. But when I go shopping… maybe you could come with me and help me decorate?”

“Oh, absolutely ! You really need it,” you tease with a small laugh.

The place is barebones: just his work-and-gaming setup, a one-seater couch, the kitchen stocked with basics, and every other room equally minimal. You can’t help but think back to a few months ago, when he had asked you to live with him. If only you’d done things differently back then—if you hadn’t lied—maybe you would have been here with him already, building this place together.

“Are you hungry? Want to watch something?” he offers, tugging off his tie and shrugging out of his suit jacket.

“Just some cold water, please.”

You sink onto the couch. In truth, you don’t want food or distractions—you just want to be with him, to make up for lost time, to know everything that happened while you weren’t by his side. He soon joins you, handing over a chilled bottle of water and a glass.

“Thank you.” You take a sip, feeling his gaze on you the whole time. Once you set the glass down, you smile at him. “I want to know everything, aaaall the things I missed!”

He chuckles. “Same here. I want to know everything about you too.”

“Mmh… I don’t think we can cover it all in one night.”

“We’ve got time,” he says with quiet certainty. “This won’t be our only night together.” His tone leaves no room for doubt; it feels like a promise, one that stretches far into the future, maybe even for the rest of your lives.

The conversation flows easily, zigzagging from topic to topic, both of you too eager to share to stay on one track. You’re relieved, overjoyed even because the connection, the bond, it’s still there. You had feared awkwardness, the weight of the past hanging between you, but instead it feels like nothing ever changed, as if you’d never been apart. Little by little, the space between you closes, until finally, you find yourselves in each other’s arms again.

“Um… would you maybe… stay the night?” he asks, a little hesitantly shy.

“Yeah, why not?” You’d wanted to ask first, but didn’t dare.

“Okay, perfect. I’ll grab you a towel and some pyjamas, well, my pyjamas,” he adds with a quick grin.

You nod, slipping off your shoes by the door and unclasping your jewelry. He’s back in no time, arms full of neatly folded clothes and a fresh towel. Always so thoughtful. He sets everything down in the bathroom, then leans in to kiss you.

“Hurry,” he murmurs against your lips, “I’m already missing you.”

You laugh. “Seriously? I’m just taking a shower.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be obsessed with my girlfriend?” he teases, looping his arms around your waist.

“And what are you going to do when it’s your turn to shower?” you shoot back.

“Oh, I’ll just leave the door open and admire you from across the room.”

“Creep,” you giggle.

“Go on, before I prove it,” he warns, still smiling.

You take a quick shower, eager to be back in his company. The clothes he lent you smell of clean laundry and something unmistakably him, a quiet kind of comfort. They hang loosely on you, and you like it that way: it feels as if a piece of him is wrapped around you. The Flash T-shirt nearly grazes your knees; the pajama pants are far too big; even his boxer shorts are more comfortable than you care to admit.

When you step back into the room, hair still damp and falling over your shoulders, Luigi turns. His eyes linger—long enough to betray a desire he doesn’t bother to hide.

“Sexy…,” he says, almost in awe.

You cross the room with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I know you’re even more into me when I’m dressed like a guy.”

He smirks, insolent. “Oh no, trust me! I’d much rather see you with nothing at all.”

You roll your eyes. “Interesting. And where was all that smooth talk when you were stammering in front of Sarah?”

“Tsk.” He chuckles. “You should be grateful your boyfriend was a total disaster at flirting.”

You arch a brow. “Yet somehow you still managed to win me over.”

“And I still have no idea how,” he admits, grinning.

You move closer, until your arms loop around his neck and your faces are just inches apart. “You really have no clue what effect you have on people, do you?” you whisper, half teasing. “Remember the girls at Stanford?”

This time he looks away, cheeks coloring.

“You’re still on that?” he sighs, pretending exasperation but failing to hide a smile. “You’re… exaggerating.”

You laugh softly, surprised. “Wait, you’re actually blushing?”

“It’s… it’s just the first time a girl has ever said something like that to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Or maybe when a girl does say it, you’re too clueless to notice,” you tease.

He shrugs with a shy smile. “No matter how hard I tried, I never really managed to charm anyone… well, except one girl. But that’s ancient history.”

You narrow your eyes. “Careful with what you’re saying,” you warn, jealousy slipping through.

“Alright, alright, changing the subject,” he laughs. He steals a quick kiss. “I’m gonna take my turn in the shower. Make yourself at home.”

He disappears into the bathroom, and you flop back onto his bed with a smile tugging at your lips. His scent is everywhere, on the sheets, the pillows, even on you now. You close your eyes for a few seconds, but your heart is still racing.

The sound of the shower starts, and before you can stop it, your imagination takes over. Heat creeps into your cheeks as you picture him—bare, just a few steps away, separated from you by nothing more than a thin door. You shake your head to chase the thought away, but it only grows more vivid.

When Luigi finally steps out, his hair damp and a towel draped loosely around his neck, a pair of pajama shorts hanging low on his hips, your gaze locks on him before you can help it. You whip your eyes away, guilty as if you’d been caught.

“Well?” he teases with a sly smile. “Got comfy without me?”

“Yes,” you shoot back, feigning irritation as you slip under the covers, “and I was planning to fall asleep before you started clowning around.”

“Oh no, you weren’t planning on sleeping yet, were you? We’ve got too much time to make up for.”

Still, he reaches over and switches off the light before climbing in beside you. The mattress dips under his weight, and soon you feel his arm slide naturally around your waist. For a heartbeat you tense—then you let yourself melt into the warmth you’d almost given up hoping to feel again.

Silence settles over the room—soft, easy, almost fragile. You could fall asleep like this. But then his voice breaks through, low and a little unsure:

“I’m so glad I found you again.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

You tilt your face toward his and kiss him. His hand slips into your hair, fingers finding the back of your neck, and he deepens the kiss until the rest of the world quietly disappears.

Your hands came up to tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.
His lips were soft, moving over yours with a patience that felt like worship. He broke away, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. His hands went to the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’d pulled on. He guided it up and over your head, his eyes never leaving your body as it was revealed to him. The shirt fell to the floor. His gaze was a physical weight, hot and intense, as it dropped to your chest. A low, guttural sound escaped him, part awe, part pure lust.
“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice thick. “All that time you were hiding these from me?” His hands pressed against your butt, firmly grabbing it. Then his palms, calloused and warm, finally covered your breasts. He held their weight, his thumbs stroking over your nipples, which peaked into hard, aching points under his touch. “So perfect. So fucking perfect. You have no idea how you make me feel… “.
He lowered his head, his tongue laving one tight peak before drawing it deep into the heat of his mouth. You cried out, back arching off the bed, your fingers clutching at his broad shoulders. The sensation was electric, a direct line of pure pleasure straight to your core. He suckled deeply, lavishing one breast with attention before moving to the other, his tongue circling, nipping gently with his teeth, worshiping every inch of your sensitive flesh. “You taste so good,” he groaned against your skin, his hot breath sending fresh shivers through you.
His mouth began a slow, burning trail down your stomach, his hands following, smoothing over your hips. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your (his) panties and drew them down your legs, tossing them aside. He settled between your thighs, pushing them apart, and the cool air of the room hit your wet cunt, making you gasp.
He stared down at you, his eyes black with desire. “Look at you. So wet for me.”
“Shut up” you responded, not used to seeing him like this.
He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive flesh. “I’m going to taste every fucking drop.” He smiles.
His tongue, broad and wet, dragged through your slit in one long, slow lick. You whimpered, a broken, pleading sound. He did it again, and again, setting a rhythm that had your hips lifting off the bed. Then his mouth closed over your clit, and he sucked, hard. Your vision blurred at the edges. His tongue was relentless, circling, flicking, devouring you. One of his fingers, then two, pressed inside you, curling upwards, finding that spot deep inside that made you see stars.
“Luigi…” you moaned, your voice strangled. “Please…”
“Please what, baby?” he murmured against your flesh, his words vibrating through you. “Tell me what you need. I’ll give you anything. Anything.”
“I need you. Inside me. Now.”
He rose above you, his body a magnificent silhouette against the low light. His cock, thick and hard and straining, nestled against your wetness. The head pressed against your entrance, and you both moaned at the contact.
“I going to..”he warns
“Yes…” you responded, simply.
He pushed inside. It was a slow, inexorable stretch. A year of longing, a year of emptiness, was filled in one breathtaking, overwhelming moment. You were stretched gloriously, perfectly around him. He was huge, and the feeling of being so completely filled, so utterly possessed, was unlike anything you’d ever known. He stilled, buried to the hilt, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“You feel incredible,” he choked out, dropping his forehead to yours.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “You’re big.” You breathed.
That broke his control. He began to move, a slow, deep, rolling rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs. Each thrust was a claiming, a promise, an apology. His eyes never left yours. He whispered to you, a filthy, loving litany. “You take my cock so well, you perfect girl. My good, fucking perfect girl. I’m never letting you go again. Never.”
The pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your ragged moans and his guttural groans. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, a spring about to snap. He felt it too, his rhythm becoming erratic, his breathing harsh in your ear.
“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back. “Luigi, I’m gonna come.”
“Come all over my cock. Let me feel you.” he demanded, his voice rough with need.
The command, laced with such raw desire, shattered you. Your orgasm ripped through you, a violent, breathtaking wave of pleasure that clenched around him, milking his cock, pulling a roar from deep within his chest.

He drove into you once, twice more, deep and hard, and you felt him pulse inside you, a hot, endless flood that filled you up. “Yes… fuck, take it. Take all of it. I need to fill this perfect cunt…” he grunted, his body shuddering violently above you.
He collapsed, his weight a welcome anchor, his face buried in your neck. You could feel him, still hard, still buried deep within you, his come warming you from the inside out. He was still for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily, slick with sweat.

As he begins to pull away, you tighten your arms around him. You can feel his lips stretch into a smile against your neck. His curls brush your cheek, and you catch the faint scent of his shampoo.

“So good,” he confides, shifting so you can rest your head against his chest. You do, and he wraps his right arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Loved it,” you reply, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He immediately smiles again, warmth radiating from him.

You talk for a while, savoring the closeness, until sleep slowly claims you in each other’s arms.

•••The Next Morning

A loud, frantic banging shakes you awake, over and over. You slowly open your eyes. Luigi is already up, heading toward the door, and you follow—but first, you slip back into the clothes he lent you last night.

“What’s going on?” you call out across the apartment.

“I don’t know who it could be. Stay behind me,” he replies.

Of course, you ignore him and follow him to the front door. Luigi rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. When he opens the door, the person outside storms in furiously. You immediately recognize your brother and he looks pissed… really pissed.

“What the hell is my sister doing with you, asshole?!” he shouts, shoving Luigi back slightly.

“What are you doing here, Thomas?” you ask, flustered.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he snaps back instantly.

The silence hangs for a split second, but the air is already thick with tension. Thomas stands in the middle of the living room, fists clenched, eyes dark with anger.

“Thomas, calm down…” you murmur, still half-asleep.

“Calm down? Seriously? I wake up this morning and guess who didn’t come home? My sister! And I find you here… with him?” His gaze sears Luigi from head to toe, sizing him up like a rival.

Luigi straightens, hands open, his voice calm but firm.
“Okay, man, we can talk without yelling. I swear your sister is fine.”

Thomas lets out a dry, incredulous laugh.
“Oh, yeah, I can tell she’s fine.” His eyes shift to you, accusatory. “You’re spending the night with some guy who disrespected you.”

“Wait! I thought you two had talked and everything was settled between you,” you interject.

“Yeah, we talked, but that doesn’t mean I want him sleeping with my sister,” Thomas snaps.

“I’m old enough to decide where I sleep, thanks.”

Thomas whirls around to face you, brows furrowed.

“Old enough? I literally fought him for you, and that’s how you thank me?”

Luigi steps slightly between you two, not threatening, just ready to defuse the situation.

“I get it, you’re worried. But I promise, I mean no harm. I’ve loved Y/n… for a long time.”

Thomas narrows his eyes, unconvinced.

“For a long time, huh? Interesting… because she never mentioned you to me.”

You feel the tension spike.

“Not everything I do in life has to go through you, Thomas!”

He freezes, surprised by the firmness in your voice. For the first time since he stormed in, his expression falters, almost hurt.

“Look, maybe we should meet somewhere, like a restaurant, a public space where you two could talk like civilized people,” you suggest.
“Like… friends?” you joke lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Luigi and Thomas exchange a glance. Thomas sighs, and Luigi struggles to hide a laugh.

••• Dinner

The three of you sit around a small table, Luigi beside you, your brother Thomas across from you. The silence is heavy, so thick you can almost hear it. Neither Luigi nor Thomas speaks; they don’t even look at each other. You had really thought they’d made peace.

“Wow. We’re having so much fun,” you say dryly, breaking the tension.

Thomas exhales sharply. “What exactly do you want us to say?”

“I thought we came here to talk,” you shoot back.

“Oh, you mean like the last time we ‘talked’? You know when you had to pick me up from the police station? Remember that?”

You let out a long sigh. He’s not wrong. But you’d hoped that water had long since passed under the bridge.

“That day, I acted badly,” Luigi says, his voice steady. “And I’m sorry. There’s no excuse. It was unacceptable.”

Under the table, you slip your hand into Luigi’s. It’s a quiet gesture meant to reassure him… and because you simply want to.

Thomas studies Luigi for a moment, then nods once. “Good. At least you recognize it.”

“I really care about Y/n,” Luigi continues. “I’d do anything to make her happy.”

“And I care about him,” you add firmly. “We’ve worked things out, and I’m staying with him. With or without your approval.”

Thomas falls silent for a beat, his jaw tight. Then, finally:
“Well… if you two love each other and you’ve cleared the air, I don’t have any more objections. But Luigi I’m watching you.”

Relief washes over you. The rest of the meal flows more easily, small talk, teasing, stories about nothing in particular. To your quiet surprise, Luigi and Thomas even start to warm to each other. When the check arrives, both reach for it at once.

“I’ll get this,” they say in perfect unison.

They pause, exchange a look.

“No, I’ve got it,” Thomas insists.

“No, seriously, I insist,” Luigi counters, tugging the check toward himself.

The back-and-forth turns into a playful tug-of-war over the bill. You roll your eyes and cut in.

“How about this: one of you pays the bill, the other covers the tip.”

They both stop, glance at you, and after a beat they agree. Outside the restaurant, Thomas stretches, finally looking more relaxed.

“Not a bad evening after all. Shall we do this again sometime?” Proposes your brother.

Luigi smiles. “Yeah ! great evening. I’m glad I got to know you better.”

“I’m really happy you two are getting along,” you admit, unable to hide your grin.

Thomas gives you both a quick nod. “Alright, I’ll leave you two.”

He approaches Luigi and shakes his hand. As for you, he takes you in his arms, one of the rare gestures of affection between a brother and sister.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” you and Luigi reply together.

As Thomas walks away, Luigi drapes his arm around your shoulders and kisses your temple.

“Now I’ve got a girlfriend and a future brother,” he says, a little too pleased with himself.

You tilt your head toward him, half-smiling. “You sound way too excited to be calling him your brother.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never had one.” He gives a small shrug, still grinning. “So… yeah, I’m kinda living the dream.”

“That’s… unexpectedly sweet. I’m sure you two are going to get along.”

“Technically,” he adds, eyes glinting, “I already knew him first. When I met you as Thomas?”

You groan. “Oh, come on. Are you seriously bringing that up again?”

“I mean…” he drags the word out, teasing, “you did a pretty convincing job. I feel like I met the brother long time ago.”

You swat his chest lightly. “It was a big lie, I lied, it wasn’t him, okay? That doesn’t count.”

He chuckles, leaning a bit closer. “Still. Guess I got the full brother-in-law experience before it was official.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now. “Brother-in-law? Please. I was your boyfriend, bro…”

“Bro?” He arches a brow. “I specifically told you not to call me that.”

You laugh. “Why? Afraid it’ll stick?”

“I don’t know…” he look away, blushing.

“C’mon I know you like when I call you that.” You tease.

He doesn’t answer right away; a shy little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. You can tell he’s trying to act all nonchalant, but you know perfectly well he won’t last a single minute.

“Bro?” you tease, leaning in just enough to provoke him.

“Yes, baby?” he answers softly, turning his head toward you with a gentle smile.

In one smooth move, he’s turned your teasing back on you.

“What happened? You lost your voice ?” His turn to tease now.

“Okay… you got me.”

He leans again to kiss you.

“I should probably head home,” you say softly.

“No way. I just got you back; I’m not letting you go yet.”

“I at least need to grab some clean clothes,” you laugh.

“Or… you could keep wearing mine. They look better on you anyway.”

You bite back a smile. “Tempting. But I’d still rather wear my own.”

“Fine,” he says with a mock sigh. “But I’m coming with you.”

“Alright then,” you agree, your voice warm. “Let’s go.”

In the end, you both went back to your place and stayed the night. Your sister finally got to meet him and properly, this time. Normally, you’d probably think this was moving way too fast. After all, in just a few days you have met his parents, and now he has met your brother and sister in one day. But somehow it doesn’t feel rushed. He stands in the middle of your room, analyzing everything in as if cataloging every detail.

“So this is your room,” he says with a slow grin. “Very… you.”

“Come here,” you say, stretching out across the bed.

He lies down beside you until your heads are side by side, threading his fingers through yours.

“You ever think maybe this is all… too fast?” you ask, your voice half curious, half cautious.

He smiles, a small dimple flashing. “Sure, two days is kind of quick. But we’ve already lost so much time. I don’t want to waste any more.” He tilts his head, meeting your gaze. “Do you think it’s too fast?”

“Yes,” you admit, “but it doesn’t scare me.”

He laughs softly. “Good. Because if you were what I’m about to do would make you runaway far away from me.”

You narrow your eyes. “What ?”you ask genuinely curious.

He slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a single key dangling from a tiny soccer-ball keychain.

“This,” he says simply. “The key to my apartment. It’s yours.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

He props himself up on one elbow, watching your reaction. “Come over whenever you want. The more you’re there, the better I feel. My place is yours.”

A grin spreads across your face before you can stop it. “Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him.

He wraps you in his arms, deepening the kiss until you both shift into a more comfortable tangle of limbs. You stay in this position for longs minutes in silence, feeling comfortable.

After a while, his voice breaks the quiet. “I need to tell you something, Y/n.”

You raise your eyebrows, you thought you had already shared everything worth sharing. “Yes?”

He takes a breath. “I got a job offer. In Hawaii. And… I want your opinion before I say yes.”

For a second you can’t speak. It doesn’t surprise you, he’s brilliant; you knew offers would come quickly after graduation. But you weren’t ready to imagine oceans between you just yet.

“What do you think?” he asks carefully.

“That’s amazing, Luigi!” you say at last, and you mean it. “You should accept it. I’m so happy for you.”

You’re really happy for him, even though Hawaii feels like another planet.

“You’re sure?” His brow furrows. “It’s four thousand miles away. We only just found each other again. I don’t want to… lose this.”

You squeeze his hand. “If you stayed here just for me, I’d feel guilty forever. Don’t hold back because of me. This is an incredible opportunity.”

He hesitates, then his eyes soften. “I’ve been thinking… maybe you could come with me. Just the two of us, a tiny place near the beach.”

Your heart pulls, but you shake your head gently. “I’d love that. But… Stanford accepted my application.”

His face lights up instantly. “What? That’s incredible!” He pulls you into a hug, genuine pride in his voice.

You’re both thrilled for each other, but you both know the truth: long distance is hard, and it rarely plays fair. Silence settles in, heavy with thoughts neither of you say aloud. You end up perched on his lap, arms looped around his neck, his hands resting at your waist.

“Hawaii, huh…” you breathe, a long exhale. “That’s pretty far from California.”

“Yeah,” he admits. “But I’ll book flights whenever I can. And you can visit whenever you can.”

You manage a small smile. “And there’s FaceTime, Discord… all those socials media that you swear you hate.”

He chuckles. “I’ll make an exception for you. We can make this work. I don’t want to lose us.”

He leans in and kisses you, slow and certain.

“Me neither,” you whisper against his lips. “So… we enjoy the time we have, and when it’s time, we figure it out together.”

You rest your forehead against his, both of you quietly holding on, as if memorizing the shape of now before the miles stretch between you.