How To Talk To Your Crush

three

Mickey picked up the pace, a flurry of doubts pacing through his mind in the few, dreadful seconds it took to catch up with him. He forced himself to ignore them, weaving past the rush of students. He harshly tapped Ethan on the shoulder, the tips of his fingers burning at the contact.

"Ethan," he snapped, suprised that his inner frustration had bled into his tone. He stopped in his tracks as Ethan threw a brief glance behind him, knowing smirk on his face, as if he knew it would be him.

Mickey hated that smirk. He hated it with all of his being, and Ethan knew he did. His deep green eyes seemed to flicker around them, before he directed his full attention to the smaller boy. It made him feel suffocated in his gaze.

"Petal," his voice cooed, making Mickey's cheeks turn red. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's Mickey," he grit out, his face twisted in disgust. "I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" He echoed, whistling quietly under his breath. "I don't know. I actually have an important class to get to, petal. And I highly doubt anything you have to say will be worth my time."

Mickey's eyes twitched and he almost reconsidered his entire decision right there and then. Ethan was looking down on him with those smug eyes and he wasn't even attempting to hide the ghost of a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

He clenched his jaw and swallowed down his pride, burning in his throat. "I want to talk."

Ethan's expression flickered in a brief note of confusion, before it fell back to his usual playful tone. "You know, when people say that, we usually go off and do much more than just talking..."

He found himself sharply rolling his eyes, despite his words making his body flush from head to toe. He knew exactly what Ethan was implying, and he found it revolting he was even wasting his attempts on him. Mickey sent him a keen glare, just to reinforce his point.

"And I'm sure you're so proud of that," he grimaced. "But I wouldn't be talking to the likes of you if I didn't have a good reason."

"Oh?" Ethan smirked. "Enlighten me. What good reason would that be?"

Mickey's breath hitched in his throat and his hands suddenly felt clammy. He anxiously swept his gaze around them – the corridor wasn't as busy now, only a small rush of students, but he didn't want to risk anybody overhearing. He didn't even want to anybody to see the two privately conversing with each other.

"Let's go somewhere private," he grumbled out, shuffling uncomfortably on the tiles. "And make it quick."

Ethan chuckled. "Make it quick, huh?"

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Mickey sent him a sharp glare as they hurried along the corridor. "I can practically hear your stupid thoughts and it's giving me a headache."

"Poor thing, petal."

"Mickey."

His stomach knotted tightly as he pushed open the bathroom door, trying to ignore Ethan's suffocating presence from behind him. He strained his ears to find nothing but silence, checking the emptiness of the room, before he closed the door shut behind them.

Ethan scuffed his shoes against the bright tiles, and took a brief look around.

"A quickie in the bathroom, huh?"

"Shut up."

Mickey gripped his bag tighter and watched Ethan with narrowed eyes as he dumped his bag onto the floor, and leaned against the sinks lazily. His eyes were caught with his and he couldn't look away from that face even if he wanted to.