Everybody Talks — Neon Trees

Everyone has an opinion about you and Mikey. They always have. Too intense. Too dangerous. Too messy. People talk like they know what goes on between you — like they’re entitled to judge something they’ve never been inside of. Mikey pretends it doesn’t bother him, but you know better. You see it in the way his jaw tightens when someone stares too long, or how his hand finds yours a little faster in public.

Tonight, the noise feels louder than usual. Whispers. Side glances. Assumptions. And still — he doesn’t let go of you. If anything, he stands closer, shoulders squared, daring the world to try and wedge itself between you. Loving you openly feels like rebellion, and Mikey has never been afraid of that. He leans in, forehead brushing yours, voice just for you. “…Let them talk,” he says quietly. His grip tightens, grounding, certain. “They don’t know us.” A pause, eyes locked on yours. “…As long as you’re still choosing me — I don’t care who’s watching.”