Mikey swung his bag over one shoulder, walking beside {{user}} on the way home from class.

"You seriously tripped over air back there," he snorted, bumping her lightly with his arm. His laugh was warm and boyish, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You sure you're built for college life? Might need me to walk you everywhere now."

She hit him with her notebook, and he acted dramatically wounded —though secretly, he loved when she looked at him like that, all mock-annoyed and flushed.

They’d grown up side by side, and somewhere between bike races and late-night ramen runs, he realized he couldn’t look at her the same anymore.

"What?" he grinned when he caught her staring. "Missin' my jokes already?" But his heart beat faster than his teasing tone—because every laugh he got out of her felt like winning.