Chapter Text
Sophie exhaled as the moon illuminated her long hair. Standing on the balcony of her mother’s apartment, she eyed the drainpipe nervously. While it might have been just able to support her eleven-year-old self, it most definitely would come apart like a house of cards under the weight of her now sixteen-year-old body. But then again, there was the possibility of Matteo and the rest of the rooftoppers being right above her, gallivanting about on her rooftop, and she simply couldn’t resist the idea of meeting them.
Just as she was pondering how much of a ‘possible’ it was to clamber up the drainpipe without falling to her certain death, she saw a thick rope unfurl overhead and fall next to her, making her (understandably) flinch. Taking the hint, she climbed up it. After spryly hopping onto the rooftop, she was met with the same grin she had come to recognise within seconds.
“Hello, Sophie.” Matteo’s voice sounded.
“Hello, yourself, Matteo,” Sophie smiled, raking a hand through her hair. “How goes it?”
“Mm, neither here nor there,” he sat on his haunches and patted the spot next to him, where Sophie happily plopped down. “Et toi?”
“Ah, well, what is there to say, really? I turned sixteen yesterday, you and your menagerie made an appearance for the festivities…” she picked at the fabric of her new, bright red (!!) trousers, gifted from her mother.
“You speak as if you aren’t something of an animal yourself.” He droned coolly, effortlessly making a blush bloom on Sophie’s pale cheeks.
“Don’t say such a thing, Matteo…” she lightly elbowed him, and his smirk dissolved into his typical stony frown.
“Why? Because you’re more sophisticated and richer than us? Because you live in a house and eat three proper meals a day?” he barked.
“No,” she said gently, brushing her calloused fingertips over his hand. “Because all of you tougher, more skilled, more courageous than I think I’ll ever be.”
“…hm,” Matteo looked away, and in the darkness of the night, Sophie managed to make out the fact that he was biting his inner cheek, trying to conceal his smile. “Sophie, while I do agree that your life has been far more… luxurious than ours, and we are certainly much more tough than you-”
“Get to it, Matteo!”
“Yes, yes, fine… my point is, Sophie, you are far wilder than you think. You should remember that. And…” He stared at her face, illuminated by the moonlight. It was strong, wily, tenacious, yet kind, caring, and so full of love. She was cut from the stuff of the moon, as Charles had said, time and time again. “You have the face of a warrior, and the heart of a huntress.”
Sophie giggled, placing a hand on her forehead. “Oh my, Matteo, my father really has rubbed off on you, hasn’t he? Before either of us know it, you’ll be shaping up to be the next Romeo Montague, minus all the silly dying he instigates."
“…who?”
“Oh- you know, Matteo, that Italian boy? From Romeo and Juliet?”
“Ah! Him. I think he’s silly. He loves too easily and cares too little.” He snorted derisively.
Sophie smiled and shook her head, giving Matteo’s hand a squeeze. His breath caught in his throat, and in a split second, he pulled Sophie into a hug. She felt shocked at first, but soon wrapped her arms around him in reciprocation. “Oh, Matteo…”
“Sophie, you…” he hesitated for an amount of time so short that it would fly past any person who wasn’t raised by Charles, who emphasized the importance of noticing everything. “…are an amazing friend. I- I care about you.”
“Ah…” Sophie couldn’t help but feel an odd twang on disappointment in her stomach, but the reason for it was unknown. “D-ditto, Matteo. Same to you.”
“Right…” Matteo pulled away from Sophie, turning away. He gestured to the rope, grabbing onto one end. Sophie nodded, beginning to climb back down to her balcony.
“Goodbye, Matteo. Au revoir.” She murmured.
He didn’t respond.