It's okay to smile at your best friend.

It's alright that he smiles back.

But it's not alright that your insides feel shaky, and your grin gets impossibly bigger, that your spirits are brought up by a thousand.

All because he returned your facial gesture.

It isn't okay that when your other friends smile at you, you barely notice.

It's not okay to feel amazingly shaky during victory hugs. His arms are clasped firmly around your back, his nose nuzzling your shoulder—he's happy and victorious about his accomplishments. Why are you happy, and only happy, about his warmth?

Shouldn't you be breathing deeply in relief? He's reached his goal! But no. You're only interesting in his smell, that natural, calming scent that feels so unique and special too you.

That's not okay. Now pull away. High-five him. And don't hope that high-give transforms into hand-holding.

Because you shouldn't be hoping for that.

It's not okay.

You're not supposed to focus on his reaction, and his reaction alone, when you make some sort of snazzy joke that only he'll understand because you two share a billion inside jokes. And when no one else laughs but him, you're not supposed feel awesome and loved because of that—of course only he laughed. It's an inside joke, remember? I'm sure if everyone else knew they'd be laughing too. But you wouldn't care.

And that's not alright.

And when his hands brush past your waist as he gets up from his seat, which was right next to yours, it's not okay to enjoy that faint touch and wish it had lasted a little longer.

It's not alright to lean closer to his face as he's speaking, telling you a story you find fascinating although you have no idea what he's talking about. It's his voice, isn't it? You're lost in the way his words slur so adorably, the way he stresses the important words and rushes quickly on the details he doesn't care for.

It's not okay, that when he's tired and he sighs, and sits with his knees pressed to his chest, it's not okay to pretend you feel the same. Too copy his yawns and slouch in your seat like you're about to pass out. It's not alright. Because you, you're buzzing with energy. You can't understand why he's so sleepy. But you don't need too. All you want to do is act along.

It's not okay that you're afraid of his closeness. You shouldn't have to worry about the nuclear red glow on your cheeks when he stumbles into your path. It's not something you should struggle to hide when he playfully tickles your sides, or when his shoulders push into your unsteady rising chest as you try to calm down your breathing. It's not alright to lose sleep just because his face keeps appearing into your thoughts, along with the midnight regrets and the possibility of monsters just outside your unlocked door.

It's not okay to fall sleep crying, or smiling, with his picture behind your eyes. It's definitely not okay you sometimes don't get any sleep at all.

It's not alright, that his arm slung around your shoulder, slightly curled around your neck, feels wrong.

He's not trying to choke you.

He's not trying to hug you.

He's just showing his moral support. This action, the arm part, shouldn't really bother you.

But under those strong limbs, you're bothered. Blushing. You want his arm sewn there, and never to be drawn back.

But at the same time, you really want him to let you go so the awkward moment can end.

This isn't okay.

It isn't okay too feel ultra-incredible when he calls your name for the team. Perhaps it's only because he knows you're a fast runner. But why must you pretend other reasons?

Or when he's whispering too you, his warm breath touching your lips because he's that close. You shouldn't notice it. But you do, and worse than that, you like it.

And, you know your friend trust you. They care for you. So why does his trust for you, his care for you, make you feel slightly happier then it would if anybody else had the exact same feelings towards you?

Why must his be so much more special?

It isn't okay that you can't find the words, all those letters flying about, piling in your throat, strangling your lungs and making you dizzy with lack of oxygen because your breath is held and you don't even notice until your chest starts to hurt. It's not okay that your lack of speech is only because his eyes are staring right at you.

It's not alright that you can't look into his eyes anymore because if you dare lock contact, you know you'd freeze and possibly end up doing something stupid, like say the dumbest thing known to mankind, or smile like a goofy idiot.

But he'll smile back.

And you'll get that feeling you always get when he smiles at you.

And that isn't okay.

Because once this happens, he isn't just your best friend anymore.

He's a crush.

"And that…" Chuck dropped his face into his crossed arms and let out a soft whine from the bottom of his lungs. The image of Mike was still there, tattooed in his thoughts, undaunted by Chuck's struggle to vanish it.

"That isn't okay."