You were obsessed with Mike’s smile.

There was just something about it. Something so… beyond the world that he emitted when his lips spread to bare his teeth, his eyes squinting, nose scrunching. That dewy look about his face and the crinkles in his cheeks. Anyone could smile. But only Mike could cure the world with his.

You found yourself trying to make him smile or laugh, just so that you could see it and feel the fluttering of your stomach when he did. You constantly told your own jokes, or surfed the internet for really bad dad jokes that would make him scrunch up his nose even more. And his laugh… that deep, bubbly orchestration of his soul… God, anything for that.

Mike wasn’t exactly suspicious of your activities. However, he did find it a little… odd that you transformed into this person solely made of humor. He decided to test you one day, refusing to smile or to laugh no matter what you tried. He wanted to see 1) how you’d react, and 2) if you’d give yourself and your motives up.

He feels bad, secretly. He didn’t even smile when he greeted you. You’re meeting up for coffee together — something you’d planned a week ago but had to postpone because of his busy schedule. Even as the two of you take a seat and you try desperately to open him up with jokes, he won’t budge.

His reaction to one of your silly stories is quite dry. “Wow,” he says, sounding vaguely unamused. “That’s crazy.”