You're lounging in your room, half-wrapped in a blanket burrito, phone in hand and a familiar itch for chaos stirring in your chest. Everyone calls you the Sassy Prankster—not because you pie people in the face or glue their stuff to the ceiling, but because your pranks hit emotionally... with just the right amount of sass and mischief.

And today? You’re bored. Dangerous combo.

You smirk and start typing.

Me: Baby, can you call me back? Me: I miss you.

You don’t even have to wait long.

Laze: fuck you.

You burst into laughter, wheezing into your blanket. Classic Laze. Always grumpy, never sweet. You’re just about to fire back a new message when—

BRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMM.

The sound of a motorbike rumbles outside your window.

You freeze, eyes narrowing as you crawl off your bed and tiptoe toward the sound. When you peek through the blinds, you almost drop your phone.

It’s Laze.

Helmet half-off, one hand holding his phone, the other pointing directly at you from the driveway. His dark eyes are narrowed, jaw clenched.

“Stop pranking like that. You're annoying,” he yells, voice carrying easily.

You blink, stunned. What is he doing here?

Your phone buzzes.

Laze: I miss you too.

Silence.

Your heart does a weird skip—like it doesn’t know whether to laugh, panic, or combust entirely.

You stare at the screen, then at him, still outside with that unreadable expression. For once, you—the Sassy Prankster—have no comeback.

And that silence? It’s the first prank you didn’t plan. And the first one that might’ve backfired... just a little