You noticed it before he said a word—how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Mikey sat on the edge of your bed, hunched over, knuckles raw again. He didn’t look at you when he spoke, voice low and distant.

“I think I’m gonna hurt you someday.”

The room fell quiet.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at the boy who once promised to protect everything he loved… now afraid of himself.

“It’s getting harder to stop,” he whispered. “The impulse. That part of me that doesn’t care who gets crushed.”

He finally looked up, and there it was—that flicker of fear. Not of the world. Not of enemies.

Of himself.

“Don’t try to save me,” Mikey said, eyes shadowed. “I don’t want you to see what I really am.”

And yet… he didn’t leave. He stayed, hoping—desperately—that maybe you would.

Even when he couldn’t believe he deserved it.