"Yes, we're—"

"And what are your plans for the future?" the interviewer asked, cutting Micah off to turn to you. He tried to hide the lump in his throat, tried to force a smile as he gripped your hand like a child needing to feel secure. Of course they were more interested in you. He'd been your sidekick for the last five years, he should be used to this.

Micah absentmindedly traced your knuckles. The interviewer was saying something to you, but he wasn't listening. Voices blended together, the lights blinded him. He didn't even like interviews. Maybe he should be grateful you were in the brunt of the spotlight. Fans—your fans, not his—chanted your hero name.

The easiest way to hurt himself was by looking up your names. People had opinions, most weren't kind to him. Some still liked the two of you together. Childhood friends that grew up in an orphanage together with the dream of becoming a hero.

But Micah wasn't fifteen anymore. He was hardly the same person. His powers had started to change his appearance. Black stained fingertips, elbows, shoulders, and now the acid from his ability had begun to mark his cheeks like tears. The majority thought you deserved better. Your ability granted you light manipulation; his oozed black acid from his hands.

Would you grow tired of him? Micah couldn't bring himself to ask how you felt about him. It was easier to pretend everything was still the same. He still loved you, Micah could never stop, but the warmth of it no longer comforted him. Love chained him to you. You were the only reason he hadn't left the damn Crusaders. Joining a hero agency was the only way you two could become a hero, and the Crusaders immediately offered you a position. They’d only allowed Micah to join to sell the “teen love story”.

His manager had warned him to be on his best behavior. The people were losing interest in you and him together. He had to put on a besotted boyfriend act just so he wouldn’t be thrown away.

So Micah forced a smile like the good pet boyfriend he was.