🦇

when entering the room alone, you have a thought that maybe you and mike shouldn’t be by yourselves right now. but everyone’s a room over, nothing could happen even if it’s slowly becoming clear that you both are craving something.

ignoring your thought searching the fridge, you hold up an abandoned can of whipped cream in amusement before tossing it to him to try. "nope. absolutely not. that has to be expired. i am not going through all of this just for me to to die over whipped cream-" he protests, clumsily catching it.

"don't be such a baby. i’ll do it first then." you insist, not giving him a second to save you before spraying the surprisingly still sweet whipped cream in your mouth, giggling as he cringes. while shaking his head, his big brown eyes stay intensely focused on your mouth.

“i’m not lying! it’s still sweet.” you shake the canister again to get more to try to force him to taste it, but the rattle inside the can tells you it’s empty. "oh god, no. dammit. now i'm gonna die from it and you’ll get to live from pure luck-" you joke, shaking it hoping to still get some out.

before you can look up to see why he hasn't responded, his thumb reaches to your mouth. you freeze, realizing he is wiping off a drop of whipped cream. every nerve in your body is on fire telling you this is dangerously close for your friendship, but you obediently part your lips for him giving him access to do so.

his thumb is shockingly warm in comparison to the cold cream, gently sliding across your lip. you finally look up to see his eyes completely fixed on yours, it's obvious he is taking his time and for some reason you don't want him to break this physical contact either.

"i'm not gonna let you die alone, so..." he teases, tasting the whipped cream off his thumb. as much as you want to turn away to hide the red blush on your cheeks, you can’t break away from this eye contact, fighting the urge not to watch his mouth and tongue intently in return. you let yourself glance for a second, watching his tongue gloss over the cream that was just on your lips and eyeing his slender hands that you just enjoyed having on your mouth.

“holy shit– is that whipped cream?” dustin yells, as the boys file into the room completely unaware of the tension they interrupted.

“it’s empty.” you and mike say deadpan in unison, receiving a smirk from him. you let the boys take the can from you to fight with it, taking a step back from mike before they notice the blush to your face or mike’s current cocky demeanor.

the sound of them bickering becomes background noise as you try to process what the hell that was. everyone begins to file out the room and you’re quickly snapped back to reality when you feel mike standing behind you, leaned down in your ear dangerously close to speak.

he met you at a party. he found his way to the couch in his usual anti-social routine, surprised someone as beautiful as you was sitting here instead of in the crowd of popular people. first he made awkward small talk, until he noticed the way your face blushed at certain things or adjusted yourself in your seat at his attempts at flirting. this new found confidence in him with you felt more addictive than any game he’s ever played. this changed something for him.

it didn’t take long before he had you in a locked bathroom, sat up on the counter with your skirt lifted up. unlike what other guys wanted from you, he was the one his knees. spelling different letters into your cunt with his warm tongue, nibbling at your clit with his soft lips. you couldn’t possibly be quiet enough in this state, until you were silenced by mike shoving your own panties in your mouth. he wasn’t done until your once perfect mascara was dripping down your face.

“p-please let me return the favor…” you ask, catching your breath from your orgasm. he just picks up your phone from the counter, handing it to you to unlock before he types in his own number. “call me tomorrow… then consider us even.” mike insists.

the next day your friend max stops you to say “i heard you met mike! listen, i know he’s a little awkward and shy… but he’s a good guy. i mean- he drives me nuts, but other than that-” as she rambles on, you can’t help but hardly respond, your mind flashing back to the thought of his hands gripped so tight on your thighs… the same boy she’s calling shy and awkward.

thank god for him that you called him, because after the party— he couldn’t stop thinking about you. his hand fisted around his cock alone that night, replaying the sound of your muffled whimpers over and over. so when he finally got you back in a real bed, he wasn’t holding back.

he was going to fuck you senseless, but not without riling you up first. his mouth toyed with your nipples like they were candy, while his fingers traced along your skin teasingly. he undressed you for what felt like years before your hips were pushing up towards him to hurry up and break the tension, only making him chuckle and pin you back down. “patience, pretty… we have all night.” he mumbled in your ear.

when he did finally fuck you, he watched in awe at your face at the feeling of his cock filling you. he learned what made you tick, pushing harder into any spot he caught you whimper at. and he wasn’t quiet about it, “right there, baby? just wanna make you feel good. just take it and enjoy it.”

from here forward, it became his absolute fixation. on a bad day, it became somewhere he can take his stress out and have full control over. he propped you on his lap, back against him with his head nuzzled in your neck while he slammed his fingers in and out of you, his thumb reaching your clit to rub tiny circles. just to feel your shake for him, listen to you cry his name out and fall apart in his arms.

• when you first met, you made a small joke about not needing a boyfriend right now. you probably didn’t even mean it. but this one thought stuck in his mind this whole time and now is convinced that meant he should never cross the line, even months later.

• his friends would be so mad over him cancelling dnd nights all the time to see you. “but it’s her one night off!” “you said that tuesday, mike!”

• “at least admit you’re sleeping with her. then i can respect it.” “he’s definitely not. because if he was, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

• movie nights where he would end up stressing the entire time about your knee being so close to his. he would mentally spiral every time he reached for the popcorn at the same time as you.

• the more movies you watched, the braver he started to get (at least he considered this bravery). purposely making your fingers tangle together, moving closing to you, eventually holding his hand on your waist.

• “can i braid your hair?” “do you even know how?” “yeah of course. i watch my mom braid holly’s all the time.” he had no clue and failed horribly. he just wanted to play with your hair.

• in the beginning he would be so afraid to touch you, as if you would break… if there was food on your lip or lint on your sweater, he would be so gentle.

• until you guys got closer, and now he randomly tugs on your hair on purpose… “mike!” “you started it.”

• calling him michael sometimes solely because he hates it

• a guy you didn’t like trying to talk to you so he pretends to be your boyfriend… (obviously his idea) “i know she’s hot but she’s taken buddy so fuck off now.”

• texting each other an hour into the any social gatherings “can we leave” “wouldn’t going to eat be much better rn”

• lucas, max, will, and dustin always knowing you guys left together when the both of you went missing ^

• carrying you on his back when your feet hurt from the shoes you wore that night

• having inside jokes that are hardly funny, but he thinks you’re the funniest person in the world

earlier in the night, when you got a random call at around 11:00 pm from a random number you didn’t even have saved, you were surprised to hear mike’s voice on the other line.

“hey… y/n. it’s mike. i– sorry did i wake you? i hope not. i remembered you’re always up late so. i was just… i don’t know. i know this is stupid but can i see you?” he asks with stress and urgency in his voice.

you didn’t know what to think of this, but you did miss him. so of course, when he invites you to sneak around a random spot with nobody in sight for a mile… you go.

so here you are.

it’s hard to enjoy the fresh air when you’re holding your breath trying not to spill out so much to the boy next to you. you try not to think too much about his thigh pressed up next to yours, sitting dangerously close to one another.

unsure what to say, you watch him wince at the flickering light post in the distance, deciding to use that to make small talk.

“at least there seems to be a lot of electricity over here… so many houses are still out since that last surge. i feel bad for the stevens family, they–” you ramble on assuming he probably is hardly listening but might as well fill the silence.

the truth is he just doesn’t know how to respond without including an accident lie, so sometimes it’s easier not to speak and savor the sound of your voice while he can.

you notice him check his phone a few times like he’s waiting for something or someone. the thought of it being another girl makes you sick to your stomach, but you know you have no place to ever admit that. after all, you haven’t seen each other in over a month. you didn’t even have this number of his he called from.

“waiting on someone?” you ask, unable to help yourself even though you don’t think you want to know the answer.

“no– no. there’s no someone. i just… i can’t get into it right now.” he responds quickly, too quickly, making you nauseous. though you want to fight him back on this, you acceptingly nod in response.

you distract your train of thought but letting your eyes wander at the view. you don’t even notice yourself lean forward until you’re stopped by mike’s hands on your thighs holding you back. you both awkwardly laugh and break the silence. he almost forgets to take his hands off of you.

“you deserve so much, y’know.” he randomly says vaguely, clearly deep in his own mind.

“you do too, mike.” you smile slightly in response. you brush it off, taking a sip of the beer in your hand that you forgot he brought for the two of you, enjoying a few more minutes of the silence with him.

a week later, you get another call… this time the phone listing says it’s from WSQK, which is the local radio station in town. you almost ignore it thinking it’s a spam call, maybe the company collecting donations or something. you’re glad you answered.

“hello?” you answer hesitantly.

“hey. it’s me. mike.” he says on the other line, making your stomach fill with a feeling you wish you could get rid of.

“mike… hi. i– wait. why are you calling from a radio station? and at 8 o’clock at night?” you laugh.

“oh, uh… a friend works here and i just. i’m just sitting around an thought i’d call. i don’t really have a phone at the moment.” he says.

your heart feels like it’s being pulled two different ways. part of you wants to tell him that’s the most ridiculous excuse you’ve ever heard for calling someone in secret. obviously he has a phone… right? it has to be a lie to keep the fact he’s talking to you a secret. but the relief of talking to him for a minute after wondering where he’s been all the time, you don’t want to waste this moment arguing.

he spends the next few minutes asking you updates on every detail of your life. it’s nice to hear him laugh over the line when you tell him the funny story you’ve been meaning to tell him, picturing that smile of his you hardly get to see anymore.

“what about you, mike?” you finally ask.

“nothing interesting. so uh– how’s your parents?” he changed the subject quickly, and you accept his request.

you ramble on about a dress you had to pick out for a family event that you are hesitant to have to wear, to which you can practically feel his smirk through the phone.

after 20 minutes of talking his ear off, you hear conversation in the distance followed by a sigh from him realizing it’s time to hang up.

“i have to give the phone back now… but i hope you enjoy the rest of your night…” he hesitates for a moment.

“…and i’m sure that dress is beautiful on you. life is way too short to be worried about what you look like is something. wear it. you’ll look great.”

after this phone call, you don’t hear from mike for a few more weeks. the town going into a quarantine lockdown sends you spiraling with worry, but you try not to let the feeling eat you alive. you want to show up at his house and ask for him, but that feels too crazy for what you are. friends, who hardly even talk…

until you hear the rumors about something happening at the wheelers. a friend says they heard someone saw a ton of caution tape up at his house, and when they asked what happened the officers there said “everyone’s fine. mr & mrs wheeler just had an accident.”

the next evening you come home to a randomly poorly packaged box at your door step, with no return address. you don’t think much of it assuming you forgot you ordered it, until you open it.

inside of the box is a singular cassette tape of your favorite song. on the back, is a scratched up WSQK logo sticker that makes you laugh making you realize who it’s from.

mike must’ve stole this from his friend. you can’t believe he even remembered how much you love this song, but he will never forget watching you belt out every word that one night.

underneath the tape is a vague sticky note written in mike’s handwriting. you assume it must be random quote he probably didn’t even think of himself, maybe stole from a radio station poster. you have no idea what it really means in his world.

“don’t catch feelings, wheeler.” you warn while pulling your shirt off, watching him eye you up and down. his eyes were big, bright, and curious. you know yours probably were too as he started to unbuckle.

“back at you.” he mutters with zero confidence in his response. how could he make any promise like that at the sight of you right now?

that night was desperate, needy, but sloppy enough to cover up any thought that either of you were looking at this anymore than what it is. just a hookup. that’s all it could be.

a couple weeks later, you see him eating lunch with his friends. at first you both pretend the other doesn’t exist. absolutely no one could know.

you accidentally look over at each other at the same time, quickly turning your head down but it’s too late. you fight the blush on your cheeks knowing his tense gaze in on you now.

memories flash back in your head of him absolutely ruining you, who knew he had all that in him? you do your best to distract yourself by scrolling on your phone, until a text notification pops up.

mike: round two?

you: ur funny

i guess it wasn’t that funny because by the end of lunch, you were locking a storage closet door behind you. back against the door with his body pressed into you, his hands exploring every inch of you.

“felt that good you needed one more?” he taunts, while nibbling down your neck teasingly.

“stop talking and fuck me before i change my mind.” you hiss back.

“you don’t have to ask me twice.” he says.

you don’t remember exactly when it became a routine. sneaking him in through the window, secretly leaving events together, explicit texts, somehow always ending up in bed with mike wheeler. holding back the smile on your face anytime he lets a “baby” “angel” “sweet thing” slip.

all of this became a pattern, up until tonight…

the tension in the air is too thick and suffocating. something about tonight is off, and you can’t stand it.

he’s kissed every inch of your neck but not your mouth. he didn’t tease you with his tongue until you begged. it feels like you are just a box on his to do list he needs to check off for the evening.

but of course he has the energy for the usual compensation. usually these words bring out teasing banter and a thrill of getting caught, but tonight it burns so deep.

“this doesn’t mean anything.” he grunts in your ear like he is trying to convince himself.

you can’t sit through it as something in you snaps back, “says the one who can’t even look me in the eyes when he says that.”

fuck.

you regret the timing of this the second you feel his movement slow down, despite you trying to push your hips forward to keep him going.

“mike– just– fuck me. it wasn’t that serious.” you plead. maybe this conversation needs to come out, but the feeling of him inside you is only making you ache more for him.

he should be making a smirk at your desperate hips. any other moment he would be letting that fuel his ego, but he can’t even bring himself to even crack a joke. he is still processing your words, and frustrated at his silence you push him off of you, reaching for your clothes.

“says the one who doesn’t make eye contact with me when i’m not fucking you.” he mumbles, finally making eye contact now. his eyes that you thought were filled with avoidance are really filled with a hurt you can’t understand.

“what’s that supposed to even mean?” you reply naively, though you know it’s true.

“all day. you pretended like i wasn’t even there. which fine. but you didn’t have to gawk at steve like he’s god or something-” he says. you almost want to laugh at this response.

“you’re the one who doesn’t want anyone to know. at least he speaks to me, who else am i supposed to look at? because god forbid your loser friends know you’re sleeping with me!” you respond.

“i’m the one with loser friends but really who’s the one who calls me because they’re lonely all the time? like i can’t tell?” he says, hitting you deep. you know he’s right. he sees you in a way no one else can and is the only one who fills that ache in you.

“oh fuck you, mike. you fuck me in a storage closet and all of a sudden you’re my therapist–“ you respond. for someone who’s seen you naked countless times, you feel more vulnerable than ever. you play with the hem of your shirt you finally put back on, now needing to be covered more than ever.

“now who won’t look at me?” he asks, putting his hands on your thighs coming face to face you with you now. you don’t know whether to push him off or pull him closer. he continues on, his voice getting softer now.

“i tried… i did, y/n. the first time we saw each other again, that lunch… but you looked so fucking beautiful sitting with a bunch of assholes who don’t even pay attention to you unless they want something– i wanted to fuck you but jesus, more than anything i’d rather get you anywhere but with them. give you anything more than they do. so yeah, even in a storage closet.”

“mike–” you try to cut him off.

“i’m not done. my so-called loser friends know. apparently i check my phone too much, i am spaced out all the time watching what you’re doing across the room– i had to tell them. they know i’m here right now and they know i’m losing my fucking mind trying not to ‘look at you’ as you say i am so damn incapable of.”

he finally grabs a strong hold on you pinning you back down to the bed, his eyes finally looking directly deep into yours now. “if you want me to look at you, i will. trust me i fucking will. but i won’t stop.”