Inspired by “Washing Machine Heart” — Mitski

Mikey’s room was dim, the only light coming from the aquarium glow drifting across his floor. You were sitting at the foot of his bed, absently swinging your feet, trying to explain why you’d been hanging out with another guy in class. You didn’t notice it at first — the way Mikey went eerily still. He always did that when he felt something too strong to handle. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t even pouting. Just… still. Like he’d shut the whole world off so nothing could hurt him.

And then, very quietly, he asked: “Is he more fun than me?” No sarcasm. No bite. Just a soft, breaking question from a boy who had already lost too much. You told him it wasn’t like that — that it was just a school project, nothing more. But Mikey only nodded slightly, looking down at his hands like he didn’t believe you. Then he crawled across the bed, stopping in front of you, forehead resting against your knee. Not saying anything..Not demanding anything. Just… needing. He stayed like that, breathing slow, as if grounding himself on your presence.

In his head, you were the only steady thing he had left. The thought of someone else taking that place? It terrified him. He didn’t say it out loud — Mikey never did — but every part of him quietly begged: Please… don’t replace me.