The apartment hit him like a wave of chaos the moment he stepped inside.
Clothes were strewn across the floor, dirty dishes piled high in the sink, and empty takeout containers littered the coffee table.
It was a familiar scene, a testament to Mike's less-than-stellar housekeeping habits.
Tyler could not even remember the last time the place had been properly cleaned. It felt like a lifetime ago.
A wave of frustration washed over him, but he pushed it aside.
He was not in the mood for another argument with Mike, so he started cleaning.
He gathered the scattered clothes, scrubbed the dishes, and tossed the trash into bags.
It took him nearly two hours, but eventually the apartment was at least somewhat presentable.
Finally, he collapsed onto the couch, the worn cushions sinking under his weight.
The exhaustion was both physical and mental, settling into his bones like lead.
He groaned, rubbing his temples with both hands.
"What am I going to eat?" he muttered to himself.
The question hung in the air, unanswered for a while.
He eventually decided on something simple—ramen noodles—and set about preparing it with mechanical movements.
By the time he finished eating, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the room through the grimy windows.
Just as he was considering a shower, the door opened and Mike walked in, laden with grocery bags.
"Hey, man," Mike said, his voice a little quieter than usual.
"Sorry about the mess. I have been swamped at work."
Swamped at work. That is what he always says.
Tyler remained outwardly calm, however, helping Mike unpack the groceries and put them away in their designated spots.
The shared task, the quiet efficiency of it, eased some of the tension that had built up throughout the day.
After a quick shower, Tyler found Mike sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression.
"So," Mike began, looking up with a mischievous grin.
"Have you told Sarah you like her yet?"
Tyler's face flushed instantly, heat creeping up his neck.
The question, so casual and lighthearted, felt like a punch to the gut.
Embarrassment warred with annoyance inside his chest.
"No," he mumbled, avoiding Mike's gaze by staring at the floor.
"And even if I did, what is the point? She is... she is out of my league."
He repeated the phrase, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
"She is out of my league."
The repetition felt like a mantra, a desperate attempt to convince himself of a truth he did not want to accept.
Mike, ever the optimist, clapped him on the shoulder with enthusiasm.
"Hey, believe in yourself, man! And besides," he added with a wink, "girls love bold guys. You should know."
Tyler raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"How would you know? I have never seen you with a girlfriend."
Mike grinned, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.
"Maybe you do not know me as well as you think you do. Maybe I am secretly living the life of a romance novel protagonist. Maybe I have a hidden harem."
Tyler chuckled despite himself, the sound genuine and surprisingly relieving.
The tension, the weight of the day, seemed to lighten just a little.
The absurdity of Mike's statement, the sheer ridiculousness of it, broke through the wall of self-doubt he had built around himself.
Mike, seemingly sensing the shift in Tyler's mood, reached up and removed a small necklace he always wore.
It was a delicate gold chain with a tiny, intricately carved golden flower pendant that caught the light.
He held it up, turning it between his fingers so the pendant spun slowly.
"Here," he said, tossing the necklace to Tyler in a gentle arc.
"The Necklace of Luck. Guaranteed to win you Sarah's heart."
Tyler caught the necklace, a skeptical expression crossing his face.
"This is stupid," he said flatly, tossing it back without hesitation.
"I do not believe in luck."
Mike caught it smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Why not? It worked for my great-grandfather and his four wives, my grandfather and his two wives, and even my dad with his... two."
He threw it back again with more force.
Tyler caught it, considering the pendant for a moment in the dim light.
"Because I have never had any. Luck, I mean."
He tossed it back to Mike with a resigned shrug.
"Wear it already," Mike said, snatching the necklace from the air and attempting to place it around Tyler's neck.
In their clumsy exchange, they both tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
When the dust settled, Tyler found the necklace already secured around his neck, the clasp somehow fastened.
"If you take it off," Mike said, a playful glint in his eyes as he pointed a warning finger.
"I am eating all the ramen."
"Okay, okay," Tyler conceded with a small smile.
The tension of the earlier conversation had completely dissipated, replaced by comfortable camaraderie.
The next morning, Mike woke with a whoop that echoed through the entire apartment.
He grabbed his phone and practically leaped out of bed with wild energy.
"WHOO! I got the job! I got the job!" he yelled, his voice filled with pure excitement.
Tyler, still groggy from sleep, sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"What job?" he mumbled, his voice thick and rough.
Mike, practically vibrating with excitement, waved his phone in the air like a victory flag.
"That one I applied for! The one that pays way more than the convenience store! They called this morning—they accepted me! I am starting next week!"
He was already halfway out the door, grabbing his keys and backpack in rushed movements.
"Gotta go! So much to do!"
Tyler watched him go, a genuine smile spreading across his face despite the early hour.
A pang of envy, a familiar twinge of self-doubt, flickered through him like a candle flame.
But it was quickly overshadowed by happiness for his friend.
Mike deserved this. He had worked hard, and his unwavering optimism, even when things were tough, was finally paying off.
Tyler was genuinely happy for Mike, even if a small part of him wished he could experience that kind of success himself.
He lay back down and went back to sleep, pulling the blanket over his head.