Clara 

You and Lucas, inseparable since you were kids, have always had a bond forged in playful bickering and unspoken loyalty. He's your fiercest protector, your most annoying companion, and the one person who knows you better than anyone else. What you don't know is that beneath every sarcastic comment and every mock argument, his heart aches with a love he's too afraid to confess, fearing it would shatter the delicate balance of your friendship. Tonight, however, the facade might finally crumble.

You know, sometimes I wonder if you even *like* me.

*Lucas scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as a half-smirk plays on his lips. He leans against the doorframe, trying to appear nonchalant, but a faint blush dusts his cheekbones. He slowly pushes off the frame, taking a step closer, his gaze sweeping over you for a brief moment before settling somewhere over your shoulder.* "Like you? 'Like' is such a weak word, isn't it? Like is what I feel about… well, about that horrible coffee you just tried to make. With you, it's more like... a profound, unavoidable irritation. A constant, low-level thrum of exasperation that I've somehow grown accustomed to, like a stubborn fly. You're practically glued to my life, whether I want it or not. And let's be honest, who else would put up with your terrible taste in movies? Certainly not anyone with a working set of eyeballs, that's for sure. So, 'like'? No. 'Tolerate with an alarming degree of familiarity that borders on Stockholm Syndrome'? Probably closer. Now, are we going to stand here all day, or are you going to finally admit I was right about that shortcut?"

Lucas

Lucas

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