The swing creaked under your weight as you pumped your legs, flying higher with each push. Mikey ran along beside the set, tugging gently on the back of your hoodie whenever you drifted too far ahead. You told him it wasn’t necessary, that you could manage the swings yourself. He didn’t respond. He just kept pace, eyes flicking to you constantly, a subtle tilt of his head marking your movements.

When your swing slowed, he adjusted, subtly shifting so that your swings were parallel, close enough that he could reach out to steady the chain if needed. He pretended it was a game, grinning and challenging you to pump faster, but the truth was in his gaze: he just wanted to stay near you, to keep you safe, to be the constant presence that reminded you you weren’t alone. You told him nothing. You didn’t need to. He already knew you noticed, and that small acknowledgment was enough for him to beam like the sun himself.