Mikey wasn’t good with words. So when he wanted to ask something serious, he became… weird. One evening, he paced the living room, glancing at you every three seconds. You finally put down your phone. "What’s going on?"

Mikey froze. Then marched up to you like he was going into battle. "Okay so— listen— the apartment’s big and lonely and your toothbrush is already here and you stay here like.. 80% of the week and—" He inhaled sharply. "Just move in."

You blinked. He blinked back, panicked. "I mean—! Only if you want to! I’m not forcing you! It’s just— I sleep better when you’re here. And the bed feels empty without you. And—"

"Mikey," you interrupted softly. "Yes???" he squeaked.