Your treehouse was quiet, sunlight spilling through the wooden slats as you tried to concentrate on your homework. Mikey climbed up without knocking, half your comic book collection in his arms, and plopped down beside you.

“Are you sure that’s right?” he asked, pointing at a math problem, even though he didn’t really know. You told him yes, but he tilted his head, unconvinced. “You’re supposed to be my partner in math,” he muttered. He wasn’t jealous or bossy. He just… needed to be there, to watch, to be near you.