Warnings: Smut, virgin
"Are we still on for a movie tonight?"
"Of course, when have I ever missed movie night," Michael replied playfully.
"Great," you replied, "I just have to run home and get a few snacks and I'll be there."
Friday's were the perfect days for movie night with your best friend Michael. The end of the week, releasing all the stress that had built up, it was great. It had become your tradition for about a year now, and every Friday you would go to Michaels house build a little fort on the couch and watch a movie.
You'd known Michael ever since he moved into your neighborhood with Ms. Mead. At first you were wary of him. You knew how people in town talked about Ms. Mead. The crazy lady, Satan worshiper, absolutely batshit. And to be frank both of them gave off a strange aura. But one day as you strolled down your street you clumsily tripped and scrapped your knee on the side walk in front of their house. Ms. Mead saw and offered to clean you up and get you a bandage. You were utterly embarrassed but accepted the offer. That's the day you met Michael. He had helped apply the bandages even when you argued that you could do it yourself just fine.
The two of you were thick as thieves ever since.
Is y/n coming over tonight?" Ms mead asked Michael.
Michaels ears perked at the mention of your name. "Yeah, she should be over soon," he replied.
Ms. Mead studied him for a moment before sighing, "When are you gonna tell that girl how you feel?"
"I don't know. I don't think I want to do that to our friendship." He responded frankly.
"You gotta tell her eventually. It'll eat you up inside if you don't," she sighed, you'll never know what she'll say until you tell her."
Michael nodded.
"Alright, well I'm heading out for the night you let her know I said hello," she told him.
———
"Michael can you please come pick the movie? You know I can never decide,"
A soft laugh came from the kitchen. "Yeah, just give me a sec."
Michael plopped down and handed you the freshly popped bowl of popcorn.
He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. When ever he did this you tried not to relish his warmth too much, in fear that you would find yourself enjoying the slightly un-platonic gesture.
He'd picked the Great Gatsby. One of your favorites. Michael always teased you about how many times you'd seen it. But never the less he still indulged you.
By the end of the movie you had nearly fallen asleep. Your eyes heavy from watching the moving screen. Your head had found a place against Michaels shoulder.
"I don't want to get up. You're so warm," you told him.
He laughed playfully, "you're adorable."
You blushed at his charming response. Michael often showered you with compliments but you mostly thought it was a friendly gesture. But as Michael gazed into you're eyes you couldn't be sure if he truly meant.
