cece *

you didn't want to think about it. but your appetite was gone and the dining room turned empty when you sat there frozen in place even when mrs. wheeler kindly took your plate. what else was there to think about?

but instead of the dining room, it was now his room. his dark blue walls closing in on you as he sat on his bed and gave you a closed lip smile.

that smile was quick to turn serious when he stared at your doe eyes stuck in headlights. it made him feel bad—if he was trying to be honest. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he just wanted things to be okay, and he wanted you to want that too.

❝ can we just talk? ❞ mike finally spoke, letting out a breath of air as if he had been holding it since you walked in.

❝ about what? ❞ you replied, making small steps towards the bed you were once not afraid of.

❝ i—I don't know. this? us? ❞ mike stammered, throwing his hand between the two of you as if he was talking about the distance that had been growing between the two bodies.

❝ us? ❞ you replied instantly, like you were afraid he'd take it back and tell you there was no you and him. it was just you and your mind and his with his own when it came down to the bumping of hands when you walked and wandering eyes that always landed on eachother.

❝ us. at first I thought you were just going through something—and i tried to give you space. then i saw you and lucas talking and you seemed fine. like nothing-was-ever-wrong type of fine and it kinda made me upset because we hadn't laughed like that. ❞ mike continued to explain, his eyes falling off of you the more he spoke like he didn't want you to tell him how dumb he was with just your eyes.

you finally found your spot beside him, but distanced enough to where there could be no 'accidental-toughing'. that drove you insane.

❝ and instead of talking to you about it, i talked to lucas. and he made me feel even more crazy about it, because he saw it too. he saw how little we interacted with each other. so i just— ❞ mike rambled, stopping himself to turn to you with a lump in his throat once you finally locked eyes.

❝ i just need you to tell me what im missing. ill fix it; I promise I'll fix it. i can't keep doing this. ❞ mike placed his hands on his bed and let them hold him with a soft dent in his mattress. and he watched you, watched as you thought of the next words you had to say—to fix it.

❝ mike— ❞ you whispered under your breath, trying to hold yourself together enough to be on the same page he was, even when you were scared he didnt even have the same book. ❝ im scared if I tell you. . .it'll end worse. like, really bad. and you're my—youre my best friend, mike. ❞

mike understood your words with a silent nod, ❝ nothing could scare me away, okay? im here. ❞

nothing. maybe he meant it or maybe he didn't know what he just said. nothing at all? not even if he stabbed his heart a million times, made him rethink their entire friendship because you found out you were in love with him?

stupid boy.

a stupid boy.

he was such a stupid boy that you had to be in love with. just had to. because that stupid boy was mike, and mike wasnt stupid--not even close to it. he had the best grades of the group, got the most laughs when he'd make a joke, and he had you. wrapped tight around his finger.

it hurt to pull away from him, but it felt even weirder trying to get closer. when you'd hug for too long that someone walking in would have to break it up, or the way he'd make sure you'd sit by him at the movies or during late night d&d.

the silence made mike speak once more, ❝ you don't have to tell me exactly. .just—tell me if it's my fault. tell me if its something i can fix. because i guess im just having a hard time understanding why its me youre pulling away from and not lucas, or dustin, or max— ❞

❝ i get it, ❞ you blurted, cutting him off with a sigh and the fidgeting of your bracelet the party had matching ones of. ❝ there's. . . someone. . .❞ you whispered ever so slightly, making eye contact with him with eyes that were threatening beyond soft looks.

mike looked shocked, like his face had been pushed back. ❝ like—you like someone? ❞ he wanted to be sure, even though you were obviously about to say that part. but something in him was turning & his softly beating heart was now thumping as if something had hit it—hard.

you nodded.

❝ well—okay. . but that still doesn't make sense. im your best friend, why havent you told me? and why would that make you pull away from me? ❞ his words came out fast, like now he didnt want to be mature but irrationally moving.

❝ because it's not— ❞ you sighed, if you can't admit you're in love with him, you'd say the easiest option would be to come out. slow steps. right?

❝ not what? ❞ mike's tone came off rude, and if he could take that back he would.

you swallowed; hard. like you hadn't the moment you stepped into his room. ❝ it's not a girl. ❞ your eyes were now on his walls, eyes watering and words coming in breaths rather than straight forward.

mike stopped. stared, blinked, and couldn't quite place his mind on what you said. he wasn't shocked, not really, not when you whispered to him and wished he was a girl. not then. because in that moment, when you wished mike was a girl, mike just wished you'd kiss him—boy and all.

❝ who? ❞ he whispered. he sat closer once he realized how real your tears were about to become, careful not to touch you but if you had wanted to cry in his arms he'd catch you.

you turned your head, to meet his eyes thought you could now see the dull color of.

❝ you? ❞ it came out as a question, but was far beyond something that had an answer.

© erroticearth 2026 - 2027

he was sitting across the small table that rested in his basement, the party—apart from the girls—sitting in chairs around it with their character sheet in front of them. except mike, who had his dnd book open and propped in front of him to where you could only see the top part of his face.

you've been playing for a few hours now, stuck inside his stuffy basement until a parent inevitably drags one of you away causing everyone to follow after. never you though, you always found a way to spend the night no matter how much begging of mike's mom you had to do.

❝ pleasseeeeee, ms. wheeler? you won't even know im here! i wont even eat your food or sleep on the couch! the floor is very comfortable! ❞

how could she say no to a small child who her favorite—and only—son enjoyed the company of? she never did, never had to because mike was already dragging you away before she could change her mind.

it was different now that you were older. you never asked and they'd only realize once you emerged half asleep from the basement—or maybe mike's bedroom.

lately it's been less, less sleeping around, less late nights. maybe it started when you realized how easily mike could figure you out if you spent enough time with him, and you couldn't have that. in fact, there is no maybe, that's exactly why you stopped.

❝ will?! will, baby, its time to go! ❞

the party has heard that too many times, watching as will would give an embarrassed smile as he packed his things.

and you heard it now, all eyes on will as he let out his long sigh before saying goodbye and making his exit. and once everything was clean, lucas and dustin would make their way home too.

❝ you're not staying? ❞ mike asked innocently, watching as you aimed your body to the stairs with your bag in hand. it was dumb that he still asked even when it became more frequent—and he definitely knew the answer.

❝ yeah, I uh—have stuff.. and I'm getting kinda hungry. ❞ you spoke with eyes that refused to face him, hoping he couldn't see through them to the lie laced in your teeth.

❝ mom is probably making stuff as we speak, you know? why not just stay? ❞

mike took small steps forward.

❝  like you used to. ❞

he mumbled, standing between you and the stairs like a wall that you wanted to pretend wasn't there. especially when this wall had eyes, soft brown eyes that you knew you couldn't say no to. but you needed to, needed to say no, needed to ignore the feeling of.

❝ i—i can't... mike— ❞ you muttered hardly under your breath as you clamped your eyes shut to block out his begging before it could reach beneath your skin

❝ please? ❞ mike whispered. this—this please of mike's, was different. it was something mike hardly does, he'll say sorry or the occasional unspoken pleas but never like this. never so soft, or so delicate a no could break the heart it was holding.

your eyes opened slowly, finally meeting his withered expression that his eyes framed with gold. if you squinted hard enough you could see a fake tear too, but you didnt want to look that hard. because then maybe he'd see through you too.

❝ I'll eat dinner, then I'll leave, okay? ❞ okay, a compromise. not a no, not a yes, but something to hold his heart over until you do have to leave.

there was silence for a second, something that scared you more than you'd like to admit. 

❝ fine. ❞ mike finally spoke, watching as you set your bag down and walked up the stairs with him just in time for his mom to call for dinner. 

the table was silent, the room echoing with forks scraping against the plates as everyone enjoyed the home cooked meal mrs. wheeler learned to perfect.

everyone apart from nancy that was. she was out with—presumably—johnathan which started to be an everyday thing; so you heard. and it wasnt uncommon for you to take her spot on the table.

you took your fair share of glimpses at mike, and each time he didn't look back. like he didn't need to, like he had something on his mind. which annoyed you in a way. he'll beg for you to stay but won't even look at you?

❝ thank you for dinner, mrs wheeler. ❞ you smiled with a mouthful, watching her hands as she cut what was set on her plate.

❝ why thank you, ❞ she smiled, ❝ i think its nice that you decided to stay for dinner, its been a while. ❞ she raised her brows as she aimed her fork for her mouth.

❝ yes, it— ❞

❝ he'll be staying the night, by the way. ❞ mike interrupted you, his eyes still on his plate even when the coughing of a stuck broccoli in your throat rang through the room.

❝ actually, i— ❞

❝ well, i dont want him sleeping in the basement, micheal. the weather is far too cold, I'd hate for anyone to catch a cold. ❞ mrs. wheeler spoke before you, most of her eyes on her son rather than on you.

❝ yeah, fine. we'll be in my room then. ❞ mike replied, his eyes finally finding you across the table. he kept his eyes there—on you—staring as if all this time he had already figured you out.

now it was your turn.

© erroticearth 2025 - 2026

or maybe you didnt want him to. didn't want him to know how deeply you felt because of that chance that he doesnt feel the same or the chance of messing up the relationship you already had with him.

him. mike wheeler.

the boy who's been by your side for years, the boy who gives you relationship advice after you've convinced yourself you liked a girl—just for her to laugh in your face and call you a fairy. the boy who apologizes after everything and really makes you feel like he means it.

the boy who was walking towards you right now with his bag on his shoulder, a wide smile, and a fresh new haircut.

you kept asking for him to come over—or you to his to see it directly after it was done. god, was he embarrassed. muttering into the radio like a whining dog, saying how bad it looked and how it looked nothing like what the magazine had to offer.

❛ I wanted al pacino, not christopher lloyd. ❜

you could only laugh. leave it up to mike wheeler to make a back to the future reference in times of need. any movie reference if you're being honest, there's not a chance mike won't take to make a reference to a movie that no one has even heard of.

but now, with him walking towards you with his hair shorter than it was before and eyes that refuse to look at you. he still made your cheeks flush and your knees weak. was it even bad? god, no. mike had always been so goddamn dramatic, dragging stuff on as if it's stuck to his skin like a leech even years later.

like the time you threw away a origami crane he gave you after he made it in class. he was so hurt, even with more cranes covering his desk—he still finds a way to bring it up. guilt trip you into doing something for him.

❛ please? it'll make up for the time you threw away my hard work of a paper crane... ❜

and it never would make up for it. but you'd oblige to whatever he wanted because he'd give you those eyes that made nothing else matter; just seeing his eyes turn from a sad puppy dog into wagging his tail and smiling, it made you do anything. it drove you crazy.

❝ is it really that bad? ❞ mike sighed in defeat as he stared at you, almost zoned out as you stared at his hair that definitely tried to give al pacino.

❝ it looks—gr—good, great, it looks—wow. ❞ you stumbled with your once thought out words in a poor attempt at assuring him, resisting the small urge to hold your hand up and run your fingers through his soft curls.

mike almost read your mind once he raised his own hand to run his fingers through it as if he could pull it out his scalp and back to it's original length. if only it worked like that.

❝ you're just saying that. ❞ he muttered under his breath, dropping his hand back down to his side. mike wasn't just fishing for compliments, he was fishing for your compliments. your soft reassurances that no one else could give him the satisfaction of. the sound of your voice that had such purity he'd believe you if you said the sky was green. that kind of compliment.

his head slightly fell with his hand, his chin making a small attempt to reach his neck with eyes meeting yours. the eyes, the eyes that you can't ignore or pull away from. his eyes.

❝ it does! it looks good, mike. like, really--really good. ❞ your tone turned into a whisper as you continued to admire his change. it was different, but mike needed different. something to distract him from the fact the world almost ended.

mike finally let his smile take shape once you told what he wanted to hear. but that wasnt everything he wanted to hear—he wanted the truth about how you felt. how everyone said you felt about him. he was tired of hearing it from them and wanted to hear it from you. but the relationship he had with you, wasn't something he wanted to risk. atleast for now.

❝ has the rest of the party seen it? ❞ you asked as you adjusted your bag that was digging into your left shoulder as you stood there with him. five minutes before the bell—five minutes before you had to say goodbye for now to mike wheeler. even when you're two doors down.

❝ no, not yet. ❞ he sighed, ❝ couldn't really find 'em. ❞ he shrugged, but what he really wanted to say was that he didn't exactly look for them. he looked for you first, even when he saw the back of dustin's head on the way to you.

❝ ah. ❞ you nodded, watching as his eyes started to wander. you couldn't tell if he was nervous or just being awkward again.

❝ do you want to find them? ❞ you asked, now four minutes with mike wheeler you're daring to share with the others.

❝ no—well i just, don't think we have enough time. you know? i'll always see them on my way to class... or something. ❞ mike didn't want to share the next four minutes with anyone else anyways. not when he could spend them laughing about his niche references only you would get—sometimes.

❝ right, of course. definitely not because you know lucas can't help but humble your new do. ❞ you joked, tilting your head ever so slightly to see his eyes tilt with you.

❝ hey! you said it looked good! ❞ he defended himself, straightening his back as if you just had offended him. even though that wasn't the reason, he knew you were right—and was almost glad you reminded him to keep his guard up around other people because they never seemed to be as nice as you. and then there were three minutes.

❝ and it does! but c'mon, its lucas. and he likes to take after max and you know it. ❞ your smile was leaving indents as you laughed with him, watching his grow too but still sounded as if you were the one humbling him and not lucas.

❝ as long as you say it looks good, I don't think anything else matters. ❞ mike smirked. he knew exactly what he was doing—make you feel like you're the only one who makes him feel this way. and there was no denying that you were, but in your own head you were afraid he was only joking and not taking how you might have felt about him into account. two minutes left.

❝ that's the spirit. ❞ you whispered with a smile, a small smile that only showed him that you felt appreciated, not in a compliment way, or in a flirting way—even when that's exactly how you felt.

one minute left and there was silence between the eyes, a soft plead in his to tell him what you want; and everything that you want. and a soft shame that glistend in your own that just said,

❛ im not ready yet . . . ❜

© erroticearth 2025 - 2026

    His mom was his biggest supported. Told him not to cry when his brother would push him down, clapped for him when he made his first goal in middle school. She made him love basketball, for the game, and for her smile when he'd win the game. After she died--so did his love for ball. For the first time in years, his first freshman game for the basketball season--they lost. Because of him. Even the coaches knew when he stopped running up to her after games, they decided to bench him. He was still a good player since he never seemed to leave the team, but he felt if he stayed on the team, he'd stay closer to his mom who was no longer there.

    Somehow he made it to sophmore year, still playing a stupid ball game that he was too good at to quit. Every winning game gave him more guilt than he cared to admit. Every trophy felt he was waving it in front of his mom's face, "see, i can live without you!" But he never felt like he could.

"Every year we're getting better. Wouldn't you say, Charlie?" Jason smiled from across the lunch table, Charlie's fork half pressed inside a piece of broccoli while one was already half way down his throat.

"Yeah, for sure." Charlie nodded looking around the table, stopping on Lucas who was at the end of the table before going back to his plate.

   The entire lunch room was flooding with conversations it was hard to hear his own thoughts, he scanned the lunch room noticing small groups, communities, and clubs.

   Some more popular than others, like the cheerleader he just accidentally made eye contact with and the group filled with loud, considerably weird nerds who share a love for distinguishability, and their own weird game they like to play in the old science lab that was never fixed after a considerably small explosion that left the walls and ceiling black. The, what was it? Hellhole club? Hell...something.. or, no was it Honorfire club? Honor? What?

   He looked away to protect his own thoughts from overload to remember the name his brother probably brought up a hundred times when he wanted to take his misery out on someone else that wasn't Charlie. "They're a cult." "They sacrifice innocent animals for their sick games." Jason isn't even vegetarian.

   Charlie looked up with a mouth full of mashed potatoes as the group around him stood up to dump their trays and to begin their adventure of walking aimlessly around the halls until lunch was over. As well as Charlie with his barely finished plate now poured down a trash can's walls as he followed closely behind the group.

   It didn't take long for the big group to branch off to their other friends, girlfriends, or wanna be girlfriends. For a second it was just Charlie and Jason, Jason only talking about how practice should and will go, with the occasional, "God you really need a girlfriend." with a roll of his eyes when a girl would walk past and he'd do his innocent smile and wave as her back turned to watch her ass; Charlie's eyes never wandering.

    Now it was just Charlie. Chrissy had swooped in to take Jason down the halls that seemed to last forever, every turn taking you back to where you started. Upstairs leaded downstairs, right takes you left, and when you seem to have found the exit you just end up right back inside it.

    You could almost say the same thing about time, because when you think you have, its gone. Like now, the last bell of the day is ringing and everyone is pushing each other in the hallways in hopes of getting out first. Charlie took his time walking to his locker once every one had cleared out, grabbing ahold of his duffel bag that he should just be keeping in the boys locker room--but it's not often the locks even work.

   With Charlie's open locker, and the mirror he selfishly placed on the back of the locker door showed an image of two friends laughing along eachother. Their shirts being only the second thing he noticed, the black and white he knew well.

"Dustin, stop." The one with the shorter bowl cut laughed.

"He totally does!" Dustin laughed loudly beside him.

   After the taller one grabbed his stuff from his locker, Dustin was already walking the other way. The boy at his locker took his few seconds with his friend's back turned to turn around--to look at Charlie. Charlie turned too, to meet his eyes.

   Charlie didn't have to look down to notice how he fidgeted with the small bag he went to his locker for, or how he didn't walk away even through their slow blinking.

"Will?" Dustin called for him, causing Will to snap his neck to look at Dustin as if he had been trapped inside his own mind.

   Will.

   Charlie felt like he forgot his eyes in that hallway because right now it felt like he couldn't see anything. Not Lucas pushing right past him to make a goal, not Chance pushing Charlie's head down to block a goal Charlie surely would have missed, not even Jason who was running full speed towards him with the ball in his hands.

   It was a blur, and a stupid part of the game when he pushed him to the polished floor. A squeak followed his slide against the laminated wood, his skin of his arm getting caught underneath him with a grunt.

"Use your fucking eyes, Charlie." Jason spat, but Charlie already had. He used his eyes and now he didn't want to anymore.

Jason could sit here and scold Charlie for a thousand things, but he didn't want to wake Charlie up from whatever trance he had himself in because it made Jason look so damn good.

"You good?" Lucas asked, holding his hand out towards Charlie.

Charlie grabbed ahold of it with a sigh, "Yeah, I'm fine." His voice was low, looking down at his arm that took most of his fall with a wince at the redness of an upcoming bruise.

"Jason really doesn't stop for anyone, huh?" Lucas smirked, poking at the red skin.

Charlie wanted to say something smart--something insensitive--but held himself back as he groaned at Lucas's rough poke he probably didn't mean.

"Sorry." Lucas sucked in through his teeth as he pulled his hand away, "That's like your whole upper arm and elbow, can you even move your arm?" Lucas wanted to laugh, not to make fun of him, but to make the situation a little less frustrating.

In response, Charlie stretched his arm out and the pain shot quick. His jaw tensed and his mouth watered but nodded nonetheless.

"Im good." He swallowed.

Lucas wanted to call bullshit, but didn't want him to feel more pushed than he already has been. By his own brother. Maybe it was an accident--or maybe Jason just doesn't give a damn about anyone else that isn't him and his ego.

Worst part is, Charlie was dead serious. He would've played like that; with every movement of his arm feeling like a scream waiting to push through his mouth--like the wind being released--involuntarily--from his own lungs.

Didn't matter now atleast, because it was already 6:30 and practice was over. Charlie didn't want it to be, to prove to Jason he'll always be better than him. To prove he was too good to be knocked down like that and Jason just got lucky. Too damn lucky.

"Charles ate dirt." Someone shouted from behind the showers curtain, trying to stay relevant to the current topic.

"Correction, Charlie--ate dirt. And it was the funniest thing all year." Someone else laughed, and so did everyone else. Everyone.

Except Lucas it seemed.

"You need a shower. Not because you stink or anything--which you do. You just need to cool off man." Lucas whispered to Charlie as he leaned on the wall of lockers.

Charlie shook his head, but complied anyways. Grabbing his towel from his bag--along with his clothes because he knows how that can turn out. And walked into a stall where he placed his things on a metal hook in the corner and stripped his clothes. The turning of the hot water knob coming short after.

The shower was long--too long that the water turned cold. He finally turned it off, his arm showing a dark purple hue and still hurt like hell to reach out. Before exiting the stall, he dried himself and put on his clothes, drying his hair and walking into the now empty locker room.

This wasn't uncommon for Charlie to be late to leaving, just meant Jason wasn't going to be driving him home. He never liked having to wait, especially on someone who does nothing but slow him down.

Charlie grabbed his belongings and went for his locker for the last time tonight, dropping his duffel bag to the floor and layering his jacket over his bruise. He grabbed his school bag from inside that he switched for his duffel bag moments prior and almost moaned when his bag slid onto his shoulder.

Laughter errupted in the hallways, footsteps louder as they made it towards Charlie. The entire honorfire group was passing him in the hallways, he only took a glimpse before turning back and slamming his locker shut behind them. He followed a bit behind the group after picking back up his duffel bag, aching right arm and a pounding headache that the shower only made worse.

The entire group made it outside, not before no one held the door open for Charlie even when they saw him a few feet behind. He used his bad arm--like Charlie would--to push it open with a grunt.

He almost fell to the ground, like the pain was too much and he just wanted to let go of the weight he now had to carry on his walk home. As much as he barely knew himself, he knew his limit. He got to the concrete stairs before dropping his things down beside him and setting down like he had been wanting to for 3 hours.

He looked down to where the concrete path connected to the sidewalk, Will staring at him from behind with his bike on his left side. Instead of blinking, Charlie looked down to his hands, scared Will might get tired of his face like he already has.

Charlie only saw Will after club and practice days when Charlie had to walk home. Will probably noticed that too since they basically live down the same road.

"Will, come on." Someone called, making Charlie glance back up at Will who was no longer looking at him, but a guy with long black hair and a matching t-shirt.

Once Will began his pedaling, Charlie gathered his stuff back on his body to began his slow and most likely painful walk home. Alone, in the dark, because now he couldn't use Will's bike light as a guide this time since he was pretty far behind.

© erroticearth 2025 - 2026