You’re lying on your back in the grass, the stars above stretched wide and clear. Mikey’s next to you, close enough that his arm brushes yours, his motorcycle still ticking quietly behind you from the ride here.

“Why’d you bring me out here?” you ask, voice soft.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares up at the sky like it’s got secrets only he can read.

Then, quietly: “Because it’s quiet here. And when it’s quiet… I can hear how much I love you.”

Your chest tightens. He glances your way, eyes dark and honest, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“And,” he adds, turning on his side to face you, “because I missed you today. That’s all.”

You don’t answer. You just scoot closer, and he reaches out — pulling you into that small, safe space between his heartbeat and the stars.