How To Talk To Your Crush

prologue

The wind breezed in through the window, ruffling his wavy black hair on his head. He lay comfortably on his back, pressing up against his chest, with thick arms wrapped securely around his body. It made him feel warm and fuzzy, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Everything was perfect.

So perfectly perfect, it didn't seem like a single thing could make this go wrong.

Mickey shifted in Andrew's arms, the sound of the television on low flowing through the bedroom, and a steady breathing noise from behind him. The movement caused the boy to falter, leaning his head down to Mickey's ear.

"Are you not comfortable?" His voice sent shivers shuddering down his spine, instinctively pressing his thighs together. Andrew had a voice that could melt butter, and Mickey wanted nothing more than to hear more of it. He turned, flipping onto his stomach, pressing against his abs. Curved, defined, and firm under him.

Mickey should tell him. "I like you, Andrew."

The boy with the perfect face and golden blond hair smiled, and it made Mickey's heart melt into his stomach of butterflies.

"I like you too."

And then they were kissing, pulling at each others clothes, throwing them haphazardly to the floor. Andrew's fingers were like fire against his bare skin as he pushed him onto his back, kissing down his neck, making Mickey moan softly.

His legs were already wrapped around his waist and Andrew's hips were pumping back and forth. The pleasure shot inside of him as he desperately kissed Andrew's lips, who was clinging an arm around Mickey's waist feverishly.

"Mickey..." His moans, in that perfect voice, was the only thing filling his mind.

"Mickey..."

"Mickey."

"Mickey!"

His eyes snapped open, a choked gasp on his lips. He shot up in frantic panic as the door burst open, making a desperate scramble to cover himself with the blanket.

"You're going to be late for school, young man," came his mother's firm voice, and when her beady eyes snapped towards his bed, her features wrinkled into a grimace.

"Get a girlfriend, Mickey."

He watched as she pulled the door closed, and an exacerbated sigh tore from his throat. He craned his ears and made sure he could hear the faint sound of her shuffling disappear down the hall, before falling back down heavily onto his matress. His pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling the clammy skin against his palm.

There was no use denying it. Mickey had a crush.

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HOW TO TALK TO YOUR CRUSH