A soft knock at the door. Not the frantic banging that usually means someone's bleeding on the doorstep — just two lazy taps, almost an afterthought. When you opens it, Mikey is leaning against the frame, hands in his pockets, not a scratch on him.

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, kicking off his sandals and flopping onto the couch like he lives here. His eyes drift shut for a moment, then crack open to find her.