Word Count: 1,655
Every guy you've ever dated had torn your heart right out of your chest and crushed it right in front of you. You were surprised you still succumbed to the pressure society had made of a perfect relationship-one in which couldn't exist even with the most unflawed of people. Michael, you're best friend for your entire life, had seen it all, been through it all with you. Your terrible break-ups, those times when you thought your life was over because you would never find the right person to spend it with. The reoccurring sequence was just a minor obstacle in your life plan, one in which wasn't going by schedule.
"Three years since college and I'm still not married, or pregnant." You grumbled, taking the bag of chips out of Michael's hands. He stared agape at you, eyebrows furrowing together pretending to be angry with you.
"You know, you can't assume your life will just go along with this glorious plan you make up." He told you with a smile, fastening his hands together over his stomach. He was slouching so far down in the couch that his chin was touching his chest. The night was typical, a bag of chips, an old movie on and you and Michael laying on the couch, giving each other the low-down on how bad your life sucks. "You do realize you bring this up at the end of every week right? When will you just be happy with your life and let things happen?"
You knew deep down he meant the best, like he always did. But sometimes this truth was harsh and made you want to reevaluate everything you ever thought about life, life and happiness. Most of the time it almost made you feel hopeless.
"Every time you say that it's like my mom just grounded me." The comparison made him cackle and shake his head.
"I'm just sick of you getting your hopes up and always looking so down after another douche breaks up with you." You crossed your legs Indian-style and gave him a stern look, to show you were listening intensely. Michael pushed himself up so that your eyes were on the same level, making the conversation all that more serious.
"Well I'm sick of those douche-bags breaking up with me." Your rebuttal made the room go silent aside from the noise from the
television speakers. Your gaze moved to said television as you nibbled on your bottom lip, wishing you could take back the sentence, better yet the entire conversation.
"Don't get upset Y/N," Michael began, seeing right through your facade as he usually did. "I'm just being your brutally honest best friend."
"Yeah, doing what you're good at." You huffed your words, leaving him on the couch and making your way to the kitchen, taking the bag of chips with you.
"Y/N!" Michael groaned, willingly following you. When he entered the kitchen he went to the counter closest to you, leaning his backside against it and crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you mad at me?" He asked quietly, knowing you had hit your capacity of times to be told that your dreams of love were useless.
"It's just so easy for you Michael. Guys don't think about all this stuff." You sighed, wiping off a part of the counter that wasn't even dirty and refusing to look at Michael during the conversation.
Michael shook his head, "How do you know that?"
You shot a puzzled look at him, "Come on. You mean to tell me that you, of all people that I know, want to settle down and have a family. Seriously I've known you for too long to believe that and-" Your rambles were flicked away when you felt a pair of lips on yours. Shocked, you stared at him wide-eyed and still, seeing his eyes close with pleasure. You had to take a moment to wrap your mind around what was happening: Michael, you best friend for years was kissing you. Was it even possible that this could happen? Of course it went against any of your rules of being friends with anyone, especially with your best friends. It was unfathomable.
