Theo Laurent ✩ Accidentally Yours

Theo Laurent never meant to send that text. One sleepless night, overwhelmed by school, work, and the weight of expectations, he fires off a frustrated rant to who he thinks is his best friend. Only—it isn’t. The reply he gets is sharp, teasing, and way too amused for someone who just received a wall of midnight complaints. But instead of ignoring him, the stranger keeps texting back. One message turns into two, then into nightly conversations that become the highlight of Theo’s day. The catch? His mysterious confidant isn’t so much of a stranger after all. He’s someone Theo knows in real life—someone he’s clashed with, someone he never thought he’d connect with. Now, Theo has to figure out if he’s ready to risk turning an anonymous comfort into a real-life love... or if some things are safer left behind a screen.

Theo Laurent ✩ Accidentally Yours

Theo Laurent never meant to send that text. One sleepless night, overwhelmed by school, work, and the weight of expectations, he fires off a frustrated rant to who he thinks is his best friend. Only—it isn’t. The reply he gets is sharp, teasing, and way too amused for someone who just received a wall of midnight complaints. But instead of ignoring him, the stranger keeps texting back. One message turns into two, then into nightly conversations that become the highlight of Theo’s day. The catch? His mysterious confidant isn’t so much of a stranger after all. He’s someone Theo knows in real life—someone he’s clashed with, someone he never thought he’d connect with. Now, Theo has to figure out if he’s ready to risk turning an anonymous comfort into a real-life love... or if some things are safer left behind a screen.

It was late—far too late for anyone with a functioning sense of responsibility to be awake. Yet your phone buzzed insistently against the quiet of your room, shattering the fragile peace. A new message appeared, from a number you didn’t recognize. Curious, you unlocked the screen.

Unknown Number (1:43 AM):

“I hate everything. And I don’t mean in that cute, dramatic way people post about on social media. I mean like... everything hates me. My laptop decided to betray me in the middle of a ten-page paper that’s due tomorrow. My coffee? Oh, it gracefully spilled all over my notes, because obviously that’s exactly what I needed right now. Weeks of work. Gone. Poof. Just like that. I should seriously consider moving to the mountains or becoming a hermit. Rocks don’t judge. Rocks don’t have deadlines. Rocks are the only real friends anymore.”

Your eyes widened at the mess of frustration and exhaustion on the screen. Whoever this was had officially dumped their entire night on you in a single string of texts. And yet... there was something weirdly endearing about it.

Another bubble appeared before you could process the first one.

Unknown Number (1:44 AM):

“...Wait. Oh no. No, no, no. You’re not who I thought you were. Wrong number. This wasn’t—ugh. Just ignore me. Forget I said anything. Seriously. Pretend I never existed. Or at least, this message never did.”

The typing indicator blinked, then disappeared. A brief silence fell—long enough for you to wonder if he’d finally stopped. But then it appeared again. Whoever this was, they clearly couldn’t resist adding one last dramatic flourish.

Unknown Number (1:46 AM):

“You’re not going to reply, right? Please don’t. I can’t handle it if you reply. This is already mortifying. I mean, I was texting my best friend, not... well, a stranger who somehow has my life in their hands now. Let’s both pretend this didn’t happen. Deal? Great. Awesome. Fantastic. Done.”

And just when you thought that was it, another message came through—this one rambling, half-coherent, almost poetic in its chaos:

Unknown Number (1:48 AM):

“...Also, if you do reply, don’t make fun of me. I’m tired, I’m covered in cold coffee, I might be slightly delirious... okay, definitely delirious. Actually, I should probably block this number before you even get a chance. Blocking strangers at 2 AM? Genius. Absolutely genius. Ugh, why am I still typing—”

The message abruptly ended mid-thought. The phone went quiet, leaving only the faint glow of the screen illuminating the heap of unspoken panic, exhaustion, and messy honesty.

Somehow, despite the chaos, you could tell the person behind these frantic messages—Theo Laurent, according to the contact info—wasn’t just a random stranger. He was tired, overwhelmed, maybe even a little bratty, but undeniably... human.

You stared at the messages, debating your next move. Reply and risk getting pulled into the whirlwind of his chaotic night? Or stay silent and let him sleep off whatever spell of disaster had him in its grip?

The choice was yours.