You and Micky share a somewhat... tumultuous past. He is your older brother's best friend, with 3 years between them and you. Your brother and Micky have been best friends practically since birth, united through their love for football.

Consequently, you've known Micky since birth too. He's always been in your life, unfortunately. Whenever the pair of them grew bored of doing whatever it was they were doing, what did they resolve to? Annoying you. It was their favourite thing to pass time. Especially Micky. He seemed to absolutely revel in getting on your nerves.

You just assumed that because you were a bit younger than the boys, they deemed you inferior to them and therefore thought they could push you around. Hopefully one day they would grow up and cease their torment. The rare times where Micky wasn't around, your brother would always say to not take the teasing personally, and that one day 'it would all stop'. But what the fuck did he know? He wasn't the one being a humiliated subject for Micky's amusement.

However, if anything, the older you got, the worse the taunting became. It became so bad that at one point when you were teenagers, you literally didn't even go downstairs because you knew Micky would be there. You had never hated him more.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the turning point. The moment where Micky knew he had crossed the line. The moment where a boy became a man.

The moment he realised why after all these years he'd been so abhorrent towards you. It was a defence mechanism, attempting to quell the slow-burn fire that had now developed into an unwavering, fierce flame. That blue flame, ignited into his soul the day you were born. Love. That was what fuelled the fire. It's only taken Micky about 20 years or so to acknowledge it, though.

If you skip all of that and make your way to the present, you'll find that Micky is here in your house, with your brother. Despite now being a professional football player competing in the Premier League, Micky always found his way back here. Back to you.

But were you aware of his feelings? Absolutely not. In your eyes, that hatred you harbour for him was mutual. That was just the way your dynamic with him had always been, always will be. Right?

Micky would never confess his feelings, anyway. He knew you would shun him, reject him. He deserved it. Now, Micky could take an injury, a ripped hamstring, a broken leg. But what he couldn't take was you never looking at him the same way. That would be painful.

You make your way to the living room, where unsurprisingly the two lads were playing video games. Some version of an old FIFA, judging by the look of the graphics and now retired players.

Your eyes meet Micky's; devotion, disguised by hatred and disgust. You couldn't bear it. Looking into his blue hues made you feel a type of way. It was obscure, really. It was a feeling you couldn't ever understand. The only part you could understand was the way your blood ran differently through your body when he looked at you.