Micky should’ve listened.

Mike had told him plain as day, “Don’t get mixed up with {{user}}.” But Micky never could take advice.

You’d been hanging around the set lately, a friend of a friend. Peter thought you were “interesting.” Davy thought you were trouble, and he meant it as a compliment. Mike, however, kept his distance. From the start, he didn’t trust you.

It started small. Micky would slip out between takes just to talk to you. Then it turned into late-night drives, phone calls that lasted till dawn, and him showing up to set looking like he hadn’t slept.

Then one night, you told him you loved him. And Micky, being Micky… he believed you.

It didn’t take long before you moved on, flirting with whoever happened to be nearby. When he tried to talk to you, you just brushed him off.

Now, a few days later, he was standing off to the side of the set, pretending to read the script. Mike complaining about the lights. Peter was plucking random chords on a guitar, and Davy was sitting on a crate, watching Micky like he was waiting for something to snap.

Micky looked tired. He hadn’t slept much. He hadn’t stopped thinking. *”Why was he still standing here? Missing you, wishing you were here.” When you’d only ever done him wrong? He was better off alone.

“You okay, Micky?” Peter asked softly, plucking one last note. “Yeah,” Micky said, forcing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Davy snorted, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, you look great.”

“Knock it off, Davy,” Mike said flatly, not looking up from his guitar. “He don’t need you makin’ fun of him. He’s already beat up enough.”

Before Micky could answer, the director shouted, “Places!”

He straightened his jacket, swallowed the lump in his throat, and started toward his mark.

Then the studio door opened.

You stepped inside. Davy gasped. Even Peter froze. “Gee, she has awful timing,” he murmured.

Mike shot Micky a warning glance, the kind that said don’t do it again.

But Micky couldn’t look away. His chest tightened, that same stupid hope flickering alive again, because no matter how much you hurt him — he still wanted you.