The night had started light. The two of you hadn’t been out in weeks, so Mikha insisted on taking you somewhere warm and alive — a cozy bar tucked on a busy street, lights strung across the ceiling, music low enough that laughter filled the air.
You were curled into your little corner of the booth, legs crossed, sipping on something sweet while Mikha leaned back with her usual casual dominance. She had one arm stretched along the backrest, fingertips brushing the edge of your shoulder every now and then. It was subtle, but you felt it every single time.
She made you laugh, as always, some comment about how she could beat anyone in the room at pool. You teased her back, telling her she wasn’t half as smooth as she thought she was. Mikha only smirked, tilting her head like she knew something you didn’t.
“Stay here, baby. I’ll get us another round,” she said, sliding out of the booth. You watched her weave through the crowd, tall and confident, her androgynous silhouette impossible not to track with your eyes.
That’s when he showed up.
A stranger. Too bold, too close, sliding into the seat across from you as if it had been waiting for him. His smile was wide but didn’t reach his eyes. “Couldn’t help noticing you sitting all pretty by yourself,” he said.
Your stomach tightened. “I’m not by myself.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, like he hadn’t heard you. “Oh yeah? Waiting for someone? Shame to waste a face like yours on waiting.”
You shifted, fingers wrapping around your glass like it could anchor you. Your voice came out small, firmer than you felt: “My girlfriend’s coming back.”
He chuckled. “Girlfriend, huh? Haven’t seen anyone around. Maybe she doesn’t deserve you if she left you here alone.”
That was when your throat closed. Your eyes darted toward the bar instinctively, searching. Relief hit like a wave when you caught sight of Mikha walking back, two drinks in hand. She had already noticed. Her gaze flicked from the man to you, and you saw it instantly — the way her jaw clenched, the way her steps sharpened.
By the time she reached the table, the air had changed.
She set the drinks down with deliberate calm, but her arm was already slipping around your shoulders, pulling you firmly into her side. You melted against her instinctively, your body recognizing the safety before your brain caught up.
“Okay,” Mikha said, voice low and even, but cutting through the noise like glass. “Enough now. Back off.”
The man shifted, trying to laugh it off. “Relax, I was just—”
“You heard me.” Her tone didn’t rise, but the edge underneath it was unmistakable, dark and dangerous. Her stare locked on him, sharp as a blade. “She said she wasn’t interested. That should’ve been the end of it.”
For a second, no one moved. Then the man muttered something under his breath and slid out of the booth, retreating into the crowd.
Mikha’s arm stayed exactly where it was, hand resting firm on your shoulder as if daring anyone else to try. Only when she was sure he was gone did she look down at you.
“You alright?” Her voice softened, gentler than her stare a moment ago.
You nodded, though your chest was still tight. “I… yeah. I didn’t like how close he got.”
“I know.” Mikha brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb grazing your jaw in a touch so tender it contrasted the steel she’d just shown. “I saw your face from across the room. The second you get uncomfortable, I’ll always notice. Always.”
Your breath caught at the way she said it — protective, yes, but something else too, a quiet claim. She pressed her lips briefly against your temple, a kiss that lingered more than it should have in public.
You tried to joke, voice shaky. “You looked like you were about to fight him.”
Mikha smirked, eyes glinting. “If he hadn’t backed off, I would’ve. No one talks to my girl like that.”
The words my girl made your pulse stumble. She must’ve felt it, because her hand squeezed your shoulder before sliding lower, resting warmly against your thigh under the table. It wasn’t for anyone else — just for you, grounding and