Mike had a horrible habit of spontaneously coming to your place in the middle of the night because he ‘*missed you*’. It was such a typical thing for him to do— and god, you loved it. You’d gotten used to his usual routine by now. He’d climb through your window, mutter something about the bushes outside your window being “inconveniently placed” and haphazardly throwing himself onto your bed with a wince. The rest of the night was indefinite, really. Today was no different, he had snuck in, his bike laying in your backyard — but that was the least of his worries. Your record player played some cheesy song as silently as possible and Mike pressed careless kisses against your lips. His nose was pressed against your cheek, He was a god amazing kisser. A smile grows against your lips.