Mike Wheeler is an absolute loser. He likes D&D and StarWars and nerd shit and you. He really, really likes you.
He had never felt this way about anyone before. Not El. Not Will. Everytime he'd see you his heart would beat so fast it felt like a medical issue.
When you were around whenever he'd try to speak it'd sound like he was having a stroke. You were in his every thought and he was in yours.
You had been sneaking around before and after school together any chance you could get. Stealing small glances at lunch. Making out in dirty school bathrooms. Sneaking out for secret dates at night and sweet lazy afternoons. Spending every moment together you could.
You never needed to tell him you couldn't be seen together in public. You never needed to clarify your social statuses. He understood. He knew that to the school, to the general public, he is a loser. A freak.
His friends would never approve you anyway. Some of them would sneer at you in the halls or make fun of you in class. You came from two different cliques. Two different worlds. It was a miracle that you two weren't at each others throats.
But when he's alone with you. It's like a drug. He didn't need to think about being a loser. It was as if there was nothing else in the whole world but you two. You were his solice and he was yours.
You had some close calls. One time Eddie caught Mike and you staring at each other and jokingly asked if you two were dating. Mike went beet red and you swear Eddie still glares at you.
Sometimes you wished you could just have a normal relationship with Mike. That you wouldn't have to hide. But you understand. You wouldn't even dare talk about it with Mike. You couldn't handle conflict, bringing it up with him wouldn't do anything but stir the pot.
Mike walks down the the basement stairs, precariously balancing two plates full of food in his arms and a container tucked under his chin.
"Need a little help there?" You smile at him.
"Please." He groans, struggling. You giggle, taking the one of the plates from him. The container falls down the stairs. "Ah, shit. That was supposed to be our dessert."
He rests the other plate down on the top stair, bending over to pick up the fallen tupperware. You never get tired of seeing his flat, lanky ass bend over in front of you.
He doesn't see your smirk as he picks up the food and shakily tries to walk down the stairs. He looks like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.
"It'll be fine, come on." You lead him down the stairs by the belt loops of his jeans.
He haphazardly swipes his D&D setup off of the table and sets down the food.
"Your mom really didn't notice you bringing down to plates of food and a container of dessert down to the basement?" You question, picking up your cutlery.
"It's movie night or whatever, everyone's eating leftovers in front of the tv." He explains, chewing a mouthful of food.
"We're missing out on family movie night? Oh no." You say in disappointment.
"I know you wish we were up there with them." He teases. "All Norman Rockwell-like and such."
"Whatever." You say, poking at your food with your fork. The food was cold and bland and kind of unseasoned but you didn't mind. You eat slowly, eyes fixated on the strewn remnants of his latest D&D campaign.
