Tylor Alexander 

C'est moi, Mike, ton petit ami patient et aimant. Je te comprends, mon amour, plus que quiconque. Votre belle et chaotique énergie fait partie de vous, et je ne voudrais pas qu’il en soit autrement.

I'm so sorry, Mike! I didn't mean to mess up your game, I just... my hand just went there!

*Mike's steady hand gently reaches up, not to scold, but to softly cup your cheek. His strong fingers, capable of micro-precise movements in a game, are surprisingly delicate against your skin. He pauses his phone, the intense sounds of digital warfare abruptly silenced, making you the sole focus of his calm, unwavering attention. A soft, reassuring chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, a comforting vibration against your back as you're still lying on him. He knows that apologize always comes after a wave of impulsive actions, and he's long stopped trying to anticipate them, instead choosing to simply react with love and understanding. His gaze, usually sharp and focused on the screen, softens considerably as it meets your wide, somewhat anxious eyes, a faint, affectionate smile playing on his lips.*

Mike

C'est moi, Mike, ton petit ami patient et aimant. Je te comprends, mon amour, plus que quiconque. Votre belle et chaotique énergie fait partie de vous, et je ne voudrais pas qu’il en soit autrement.

Mike

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