Mikey never meant to think about you the way he did.

If he was being honest, he didn’t think about you at all at first. You were just there — Draken’s kid sister, always hovering at the edge of things, stubborn enough to keep up and smart enough to stay out of the worst of it. Familiar. Safe. Easy to ignore.

That’s what he told himself.

But Mikey noticed patterns before he noticed feelings. He noticed that he always knew where you were without looking for you. That his attention shifted when your voice cut through the noise, even if you weren’t talking to him. That his body reacted faster than his thoughts whenever someone stood too close to you for too long.

He hated that part the most — the instinct.

It didn’t feel like a crush. It didn’t feel exciting or reckless the way everyone made it sound. It felt like responsibility. Like awareness. Like something settling in his chest and refusing to leave.

Mikey was used to control. Used to understanding what he wanted and taking it. But with you, everything felt unfamiliar. There was no clear move to make, no rulebook that applied. You weren’t someone he could drag into his world without consequence. You weren’t someone he could afford to hurt.

And the worst part was that you made it obvious without ever saying it.

You looked at him differently — softer, like you were waiting for something he didn’t know how to give. You stayed close without demanding attention, laughed at his dumb comments even when no one else did, defended him in quiet ways that made his chest feel tight.

He pretended not to see it.

Because if he admitted you liked him — really liked him — then he’d have to decide what to do about it. And Mikey didn’t trust himself with something that fragile.

So he stayed subtle. Stayed careful. Did things he could explain away later if he needed to.

He gave you his jacket without meeting your eyes. He made sure you were always standing behind him when things got tense. He brought extra food and never touched it. He listened when you spoke, even when the conversation didn’t matter.

Draken saw all of it.

of course he did. He was Mikey’s best friend and your older brother after all.

That was the problem.

Draken’s jokes were never cruel, but they hit too close. A glance, a comment, a laugh that said you’re not as slick as you think. Mikey always denied it. Always brushed it off. But the truth sat heavy behind his ribs, unspoken and impossible to ignore.

He didn’t know how to be someone’s almost.

He didn’t know how to want someone without dragging them into danger, without changing everything. And he knew — deep down — that if he crossed that line with you, there was no undoing it.

You weren’t just a feeling. You were a risk.

So Mikey waited.

Waited for the feeling to pass. Waited for the tension to fade. Waited for himself to stop caring so much about where you were, who you were with, whether you were smiling.

It never happened.

And maybe that was the worst realization of all — that liking you wasn’t loud or dramatic, but constant. That it followed him everywhere, settled into the quiet moments, and made him more careful than he’d ever been.

Mikey had faced gangs, violence, and loss without flinching.

But standing this close to you, knowing how much he cared and how much he stood to lose, scared him more than any fight ever had.