Mikey had noticed you attempting a handstand near the playground. From across the yard, he watched your legs wobble, your hands shaking ever so slightly against the grass. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in concentration, almost like he was calculating the physics of it all. Without a word, he slid closer, knees brushing the dirt, hands hovering just under your shoulders as if ready to catch you if you fell.

You told him you were fine, that you didn’t need help. He didn’t argue. He just stayed there, silent and attentive, letting his presence remind you that you weren’t alone. Your arms trembled, and he leaned in slightly, eyes focused, chest close enough that the warmth radiated through his hoodie. When you finally balanced, he exhaled softly, a triumphant little noise escaping him, like he had been holding his breath for the entire duration. He didn’t say it, but his pride in your small victory was unmistakable.