You didn’t mean to fall in with them.

It just happened — a few kids from the South Side who seemed confident, loud, fearless. They liked you. They invited you places. They treated you like you belonged.

But Mickey notices things other people don’t.

Especially things that could get you hurt.

It starts the night he sees you talking to the group behind the convenience store — music blasting, beer cans kicked around, one kid flicking a knife open and shut like it’s a game.

You don’t see Mickey until he’s right behind you.

“What the hell are you doin’, Y/N?”

You jump. “Jesus, Mickey, relax.”

“Relax? Hangin’ out with these idiots?” He jerks his chin toward them. “Yeah, that’s real f***in’ relaxin’.”

The tallest guy in the group steps forward like he wants to start something, but one look from Mickey — one — shuts him down instantly.

Mickey grabs your arm, not rough, but firm. “We’re talkin’. Now.”

He pulls you around the corner.

“What’s your problem?” you snap.

“My problem,” Mickey says, low and dangerous, “is that you don’t know who the f*** you’re dealin’ with.”

You cross your arms. “They’re just kids.”

“Yeah. Kids who boost cars and carry weapons to school.” Mickey steps closer. “Kids who’ll throw you under the bus the second things go sideways.”

You blink, stunned. “…How do you know that?”

Mickey gives you a flat look. “'Cause I used to be them.”

That shuts you up.

He sighs, frustrated but… worried. Truly worried. You’ve never seen him look like that over anyone.

“You’re smart, Y/N,” he mutters. “Don’t be stupid.”

You bristle. “I’m not—”

“Okay, fine,” he interrupts, hands raised. “You ain’t stupid. But you’re clueless. Which is worse.”

You glare. “Really, Mickey?”

“Look.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “You wanna survive on the South Side? Then I gotta teach you some things. Before you get yourself hurt.”

You blink. “Teach me… what?”

He meets your eyes, serious now. “Street sense. Real sh*t. Not the crap you think you know.”

You hesitate. “Why do you even care?”

He freezes for half a second — and then looks away quickly.

“’Cause somebody has to."

Mickey takes you walking through the neighborhood. Not the safe streets — the ones people avoid after dark.

He points things out quietly:

“That house? Don’t go near it. Cops raid it every other month.”

“That guy on the corner? He ain’t sellin’ phone chargers.”

“That alley? Always use the street instead.”

Every time you try to joke, he gives you a look like he’s thinking about smacking the sense into you.