Even as kids, Mikey hated when someone else took your attention. He used to pout and tug your sleeve whenever someone talked to you too long. As a teen? That habit became… dangerous.

A guy from another class leaned in too close. Not flirting — just talking. Mikey’s footsteps behind you went silent. Dead silent. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you gently into him, eyes cold enough to freeze air.

The boy backed away immediately. “Mikey,” you whispered. “Stop scaring people.” His hold softened instantly — only for you. He buried his face in your shoulder, voice low. “…I’ve liked you since we were kids. I’m not good at sharing.”