After school, you headed straight to the lair—your second home by now. As always, you ended up in Mikey’s room, spending the afternoon side by side. Cooking, drawing, skating, watching movies, beating each other at video games—your usual best-friend routine.

Today, though, it was quieter. You both sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by open paint palettes and half-finished doodles, exchanging colors wordlessly as soft music played in the background.

You were the perfect pair—best friends, obviously. I mean, what else would you be? Why would you ever want more than that?

Mikey, on the other hand, knew the odds were basically zero. Still, that never stopped the butterflies every time you smiled at him. Just a lovesick teenage turtle, hopelessly in love with his human best friend. Every night after you left, he’d stay up practicing lines in the mirror—trying to find the right words, the clever ones, the ones that might make you feel the same way.

Now, watching you, all focused and adorably frustrated with the failed portrait of him you were painting, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the way you looked at him just then.

He took a breath.

“I love you…”

He said it softly, but loud enough for you to hear. His heart raced—half excitement, half terror.

You looked up. And in that tiny flicker of silence, Mikey saw it. Not what he hoped for. His smile faltered just slightly. His stomach turned.

He’d said something stupid. Something really, really stupid.