Silly Boy.

Part Three: You're Not Gay; You're In Love

"A girl," you ask in shock.

"Yeah,"  Mikey breaths. "I compare everybody to her."

"Silly boy, you're not gay," you exclaim in total shock.

"I'm not?"

"No. Whoever this girl is, well....you're in love with her. She stole your heart, and that's why you compare everybody else to her. That's part of the romantic shit that most couples experience. It's like, nothing else matters but that person," you explain, knowing the feeling. You felt that way for Mikey for who knows how long. But your feelings didn't matter. You had to help Miky score this girl. It is your duty as his best friend. You glance over to see Mikey with both hands over his heart, as though it had actually been stolen. You giggle at his childish actions.
Your little five-year-old. You couldn't stan the thought of him being in love with someone else. You didn't want to sound selfish but what's yours is yours, end of discussion.

But, one problem.....

Mikey was never yours.

Probably never will be.

You're friendzoned.

But that's not what matters. Mikey matters. You hear him rambling again, and snap yourself out of your thought. "She's just really special to me, Y/N," you hear Mikey conclude, seeing him intertwine his own fingers with a yawn. He was love- struck, yes. But he was also tired. "Go get some sleep," you command him before deciding to do him a favour. "First thing tomorrow, I want you to call this Little Miss Mystery and tell her how you feel. Then I want you to march over here and tell me her reaction. Okay?" He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes wide. "I don't know, Y/N,"  he starts. "She's my friend and if she doesn't feel the same, I don't want it to ruin my friendship with her."

"Mikey, if she's stupid enough to give up a friend like you over something like that, then she's not a true friend", you say and he nods. "Okay....I'll do it", he confirms with a nod and a yawn. "Now go sleep," you demand, pointing to the door. He obeys, turning out your light and murmmers "Nighty-night."

"Night, Mikey."

You hear your door close and you nustle into the pillow Mikey had just been laying his head on;  it smelt like his shampoo; or, moreso, him. And you fall asleep and dream of Mikey,
Your best friend.
Your little Mikey.
Your little five-year-old.
Your crush.

The person You are in love with.