you can feel it before anyone says a word—mike’s distance. the way he looks past you, choosing empty space over your eyes. the way his voice stays curt, and trimmed down to essentials.

such a killjoy. he just had to ruin the group trip to the mall with his weird, pent up resentment for you… which stemmed from nothing.

“why do you hate me so much, mike?” you ask, trying to keep up with him, even amongst the busy flocks of people in the mall. he was walking so fast and far ahead of you. god.

“i don’t. what’re you talking about?” he albeit barks back at you. and he still did it with incredulity! he did have some nerve, sometimes.

you huff and keep following him, trying to speak to him and pester him, just to wind him up a little bit. i mean, the rest of the party had warmed up to you nicely. why not him?