The playground rocks loomed above you, textured and uneven. You climbed slowly, feet searching for grips, fingers brushing over rough surfaces. Mikey immediately appeared at the base, small hands ready, gaze fixed entirely on your movements. You told him you were fine. He didn’t reply, just leaned forward slightly, waiting, a subtle tension in his tiny frame as though he could feel the pull of gravity yourself.

When your foot slipped slightly, his breath hitched, though he didn’t move — letting you regain your balance without interference. When you reached the top, he exhaled softly, a faint whistle escaping his lips, eyes wide with pride and relief. He didn’t say anything, just stayed at the bottom, silently ensuring your safe descent. You told him nothing, but the way he stayed, unwavering and attentive, made you realize he cared in a way that was pure obsession — not possessive, just utterly focused, entirely yours.