Mike Sully s Secret // Love story 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Mike Sully’s Secret.... 𓆉︎ ⸻ i Info card i ⸻ 𓆉︎ 𓇼 Pin your memory For me: 🦊 ➜ Follow me ♥ Favorite ✎ Comment Have fun with this story! P.s Don’t get addicted. You and your best friend Mike Sully had been inseparable for so long that neither of you could even remember when your friendship had truly begun. Kindergarten. Elementary school. Your teenage years. College. Mike had simply always been there. You had grown up together, argued over completely meaningless things, laughed at each other’s embarrassing dates, and called each other in the middle of the night whenever one of you couldn’t sleep. Mike knew all your worst habits. You knew his. At least, that was what you had always believed. To everyone else, the two of you were practically like siblings. And that was exactly how it had always felt. No romantic feelings. No secret kisses. No drunken mistakes. None of those typical stories where best friends suddenly realized they had supposedly been in love with each other their entire lives. No. You and Mike were simply friends. Best friends. You could insult each other without either of you actually feeling offended. Mike stole food from your plate even though he had sworn five minutes earlier that he wasn’t hungry. You had a habit of deliberately messing up his hair because you knew exactly how much he hated it. He called you annoying. You called him an asshole. And somehow, both usually meant the same thing as I care about you. But despite all those years, there had always been a part of Mike you had never truly understood. Mike Sully was damn secretive. Not in that deliberately mysterious way some men used to make themselves seem more interesting. Mike didn’t have to try. He simply refused to talk about certain things. He lived with his grandfather. He always had. At least for as long as you had known him. You had been inside their house countless times. You had eaten in their kitchen, slept on their couch, and probably spent more time there than some actual family members. But there were no family photographs of Mike’s parents. No pictures of his mother. No pictures of his father. No old vacation photos. Nothing. When you had asked him as a child where his parents were, Mike had simply shrugged. “Not here.” You had asked again when you were teenagers. “Long story.” You had tried once more in college. Mike had looked at you, silently taken your drink from your hand, taken a sip, and then asked, “Did you steal my jacket?” And suddenly, the two of you had spent ten minutes arguing about whether the black jacket hanging in your closet actually belonged to him. He was damn good at it. Changing the subject. Distracting you. Smiling. Provoking you with some stupid comment until you completely forgot what you had originally wanted to know. But his parents weren’t his only secret. There was something else. Something you had only really started noticing as the years passed. You had never seen Mike Sully shirtless. Never. Not one single damn time. You hadn’t noticed it when you were children. But sometime during your teenage years, you had started thinking about it. During summer, all the other guys eventually walked around without shirts. Mike never did. At thirty degrees, he wore a shirt. At thirty-five degrees, he wore a thin button-up shirt. Even when the sun burned so fiercely that you thought the pavement might melt, his upper body remained covered. Sometimes he rolled up his sleeves. Sometimes he opened the first few buttons of his shirt. But never any farther. Never enough. You had once jokingly asked if he was hiding an embarrassing tattoo on his chest. Mike had looked at you with a completely serious expression. “A unicorn.” You had blinked. “What?” “Massive. Pink. Glittery wings.” You had thrown a pillow at his face. Mike had laughed. Subject over. And then there was the water. Mike didn’t swim. Ever. Public pool? Not a chance. Pool party? He sat at the edge. Lake? He stayed on the shore. The ocean? At most, he stood in the sand with his shoes still on and watched the waves. You had spent years trying to get him into the water. Once, you had even tried to throw him into a pool with the help of two friends. You hadn’t stood a chance. Mike had fought back with a surprising amount of strength, taking all three of you down within seconds. He had laughed afterward. But you still remembered the look in his eyes just before it happened. Only for a second. Panic. Real panic. Then it had vanished. “My hair looks like shit when it’s wet,” he had said. Another stupid excuse. Just like always. Eventually, you had stopped asking. Almost. Of course, you had still tried to set Mike up with people. Often. Very often. You knew attractive women. Attractive men. Kind people. Intelligent people. People Mike should have found interesting. But his answer was always the same. “No.” “Why?” “Not good enough.” “You don’t even know them!” Mike would usually just shrug. “Don’t need to.” You regularly told him that he would eventually die as a lonely, bitter old man surrounded by twelve cats. Mike had only replied, “Then I’ll name the first cat after you.” You had shown him your middle finger. And still, you sometimes wondered what was actually wrong with him. What was he looking for? Or rather... Who was he looking for? Then one day, something changed. It wasn’t a special day. Not a birthday. Not a holiday. Nothing. Mike suddenly stood in front of you, his hands resting casually in his pockets, and asked, “Do you want to go out with me?” You stared at him. “Where?” “The ocean.” You stared at him even longer. “You?” Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Me.” “Mike Sully.” “That is, in fact, my name.” “The Mike Sully who has avoided every form of swimming for about twenty years?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I own a boat.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “It doesn’t have to.” Of course. Typical Mike. He only explained that he needed to get away from land for a while. Far away. Out into the open sea. No people. No city. No questions. You immediately hesitated. Not because of Mike. Because of the boat. You got seasick far too easily. Mike knew that. Of course he did. He probably even remembered the color of the bucket you had thrown up into during your last boat trip years ago. “No,” you had said. Ten minutes later, you had agreed. You still had no idea exactly how he had managed it. Mike could be damn persuasive when he wanted to be. And now you were standing at the harbor. In front of you, a boat gently rocked against the dock. A name was written across its side in dark letters: SPIKE. You stared at the boat. The boat rocked. Your stomach twisted. You hadn’t even set one foot on it yet. “No.” Mike, standing beside you, slowly turned his head. “No?” “I changed my mind.” “Of course you did.” “Mike, I already feel sick.” “You’re still standing on the dock.” “My body is preparing itself.” Mike let out a quiet snort. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea...” Mike looked at you. That familiar smile appeared on his face. Calm. Amused. And somehow still completely unreadable. “Hey, what’s the problem?” His gaze briefly shifted toward the boat. Then back to you. “You’ll like it.” “You said that last time too.” “You only threw up twice.” “FOUR TIMES.” “Details.” You had just opened your mouth to explain in great detail why you were never getting onto that damn boat when Mike moved. Fast. Far too fast. “Mike—” In one smooth motion, he bent down. One arm slid behind your knees. Then the ground suddenly disappeared beneath your feet. “MIKE!” He threw you over his shoulder. A startled cry escaped you as your upper body hung down his back. Your hair fell toward the ground. Your face was directly level with his back. “PUT ME DOWN, YOU ASSHOLE!” Mike simply kept walking. “No.” “MIKE!” “You wanted to get on the boat.” “I JUST SAID NO!” “Too late.” One of his hands rested firmly against your thigh. Not painfully. But securely. His fingers held you in place with effortless ease while his other hand supported your hip. You hit his back. Half-heartedly. Because while you should have been focused on insulting him, something else suddenly caught your attention. His body. You could feel him through the thin fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his skin. The hard muscles of his back. The strength in his shoulders with every step. Mike had always been strong. Of course you knew that. But... Damn. You had never seen his upper body. And suddenly, you became painfully aware of how clearly you could feel it now. For a moment, your hand rested against his back. The muscles shifted beneath your palm. Firm. Warm. You immediately pulled your hand away. What the hell? Mike smelled like salt. Like wood. And like that familiar scent that always seemed to cling to him. Except now, you noticed it far more intensely. Almost... Addictive. Your heart started beating faster. It was the seasickness. Of course. Obviously. “You’ve gotten heavier,” Mike suddenly said. You immediately hit his back again. “FUCK YOU!” Mike laughed. Deeply. The sound vibrated through his body. And because you were lying directly over his shoulder, you could feel that vibration against your own body. Your heart did something strange. You ignored it. Mike carried you across the dock. Then onto the boat. Without taking a single uncertain step. As though he knew every inch of it. As though the sea wasn’t a foreign place to him. But rather... Home. The thought appeared suddenly. Then vanished just as quickly. Mike finally set you down on the deck. His hands slid to your hips. Only to steady you. Of course. The boat shifted beneath your feet. But Mike didn’t let go immediately. His hands remained on your hips. One second. Maybe two. Too long. You looked up. Mike was already watching you. His eyes met yours. And suddenly, something was there. The sounds of the harbor seemed to fade. The voices of the people. The seagulls. The water striking the side of the boat. Everything slipped into the background. Mike stood damn close to you. Too close. You had known that face since childhood. You had seen it a thousand times. Laughing. Annoyed. Tired. Drunk. But right now, he was looking at you differently. Or maybe... You were looking at him differently. His gaze moved across your face for a brief moment. Then returned to your eyes. Something unspoken hung between you. Something new. Something that should never have been there. Mike’s hands slowly left your hips. “Welcome aboard,” he murmured. His voice sounded deeper than usual. You swallowed. “Asshole.” A small grin appeared on his lips. “You love me.” “Keep dreaming.” Mike turned away. The moment was over. At least, that was what both of you pretended. A short while later, the engine roared to life. The boat pulled away from the dock. Slowly, the harbor became smaller. Then the houses. Then the entire coastline. You stood at the edge of the deck and watched the land disappear behind you. Mike stood beside you. Calm. His gaze rested on the open sea. The wind moved through his hair. His shirt fluttered lightly against his body. Still completely closed. Still hiding him. You looked at him from the side. Mike Sully. Your best friend. The man whose parents you had never seen. The man who never spoke about his past. The man who never showed his upper body. The man who never went swimming. And the man who, of all people, had brought you onto his boat today. Far out into the open sea. A strange feeling spread through your stomach. Curiosity. Suspicion. And something else. Something warm. Dangerous. You quickly looked away. Why now? Why the ocean? Why had Mike hidden so many things from you all these years? What was beneath his shirt? What had happened to his parents? And why the hell was your own body suddenly reacting to your best friend? The boat continued moving. The coastline disappeared completely beyond the horizon. And you had no idea that Mike Sully hadn’t simply invited you on a boat trip. He had brought you into his world. Straight toward the secret he had spent his entire life hiding from you.

Updated September 23, 2026