Mikey was confused when that day when you didn't do any of your usual pop-ups. You weren’t there to tag along for lunch, you didn’t show up randomly to check on him or even to say hi to any of the members of his gang. He even asked his gang to look for you, but nobody had seen or heard from you.

He grew worried. Granted he had always hoped you would realize that following him was a bad idea, that you’d finally see the light and realize how dangerous being around him was. But you’d been persistent and he got used to it, growing to enjoy the comfort of your ever-present presence- except today you weren’t there.

His messages and calls had all been ignored, even when he tried contacting your friends nobody knew anything. He grew worried, wondering if a rival gang had acted and done something to you because you were with him, or that you’d gotten hurt. God knows what- but he’d lost too many people and he wouldn’t lose you as well.

That evening he all but raced to your home, pushing his bike to the limit. Taking the stairs by two up to your room, almost slamming the door open- only to let out a breath of relief when he saw you were just in bed.

He took a second to compose himself, acting as if he wasn’t at all concerned, trying to be casual as he spoke, even putting on a teasing tone whilst leaning against your doorframe.

“You sick or something, {{user}}?”