Movie Day (story part 2)

View part 1 here.

Their dinner plates almost scraped clean, Mia and Lilly found themselves lingering at the kitchen table, the remnants of their lasagna dinner getting cold. The conversation flowed easily, as it always did between the two of them.

They talked about everything and nothing – from the latest episode of their favorite TV show, to Lilly's impending date, to Mia's musing about a book she was reading. Every now and then, they would fall into a comfortable silence, only to have it broken by another random topic.

Eventually, Mia rose from her seat, gathering their plates. As she moved to the kitchen counter, she grabbed a third plate. The scraping sound of the cutlery against the porcelain filled the room as she transferred the scant leftovers from their plates.

"The lasagna was so good today, we barely left anything for Eric," she noted, a hint of amusement lacing her words.

Lilly merely shrugged, unconcerned as she idly twirled a strand of her red hair. "He's lucky we feed him at all," she responded, her tone dismissive, the sentiment punctuated by a sip of her half-finished wine.

Mia didn’t respond, just shaking her head slightly with a small smile on her face as she continued to scrape every last bit of lasagna onto Eric's plate.

"You shouldn't be like that, you know? He's still human, after all," Mia said, setting down her knife and fork, looking up at her friend with soft brown eyes.

Lilly's freckled face remained impassive, her emerald eyes unreadable. "Oh come off it, Mia. He's fine."

"But you haven't been down to see him since his birthday. That was weeks ago," Mia countered, folding her arms across her chest.

A sigh escaped Lilly's lips. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her slender arms above her head before letting them fall limply to her sides. "Fine, fine. But I'm not going down there now. It's so dank and cold."

Mia gave a small smile. "I didn't say you had to. I just... you know. Thought I'd remind you."

Lilly smirked, crossing her arms over her chest to match Mia's stance. "Alright then, kiss delivery girl. Give him a kiss from me and tell him... I don't know, tell him I love him or whatever."

Mia laughed, shaking her head. "One day, Lilly, you're gonna have to go down there and tell him that yourself."

But Lilly just rolled her eyes and reached for her wine, dismissing Mia's words with a wave of her hand. "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it."

Mia knew she probably wouldn't, but the thought didn't bother her as much as it used to. It was just part of their routine, part of the strange balance that kept things normal, even when everything was anything but.

“You know," Mia began, pushing away her plate to rest her elbows on the table, "maybe we should let Eric come upstairs again soon.”

Lilly’s fork clattered against her plate as she set it down. "We've gone over this. What would we even do with him? He's boring and never has anything interesting to say."

Mia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Think about it. How can he have anything interesting to say when he spends all his time chained to a wall in a basement? When he can't see or move or speak unless we let him?”

Lilly sighed, rolling her eyes, her fair hair tumbling over her shoulders. “So, what are you suggesting? That we let him go?”

Mia chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course not. I’m just saying... maybe we could be a little nicer to him, that’s all.”

Lilly’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “Oh, Mia. You can play with the dog all you want. I, however, prefer people.”

Mia laughed, her hand covering her mouth to muffle the sound. Her eyes twinkled as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Lilly" she said between giggles, "you're so mean." The two of them chuckled together, and there was a few seconds of silence.

"Well," Mia announced, pushing back her chair and rising, "I'm off to feed the 'pooch'." She reached for the prepared plate of leftovers.

Lilly, in her unchanging casual demeanor, looked up from her phone. "Just don't let him loose, we can't have him chewing up the carpets upstairs."

With a soft laugh, Mia made her way towards the basement door, her humor slightly tempered by the task ahead. The basement was always a bit of a drag. Twisting the doorknob, she took the first step onto the wooden staircase leading down.

The air of the basement held a unique chill. The musty scent of old books and forgotten memories filled the air - not offensive, just old, and a little too reminiscent of their shared childhood.

At the end of the chain, in his usual place, lay Eric. Mia had always found it odd how he had adapted to the stillness, but over time, he had learned to remain remarkably quiet. His body was as motionless as a forgotten doll, wrapped in a cocoon of tape and secured to the cold cement wall.

The loud clanging and continuous rattling that was once Eric's soundtrack had been reduced to near silence. Lilly's stern words had taught him the art of lying still, quiet as a mouse. It was eerie, how much he had changed, how silent he had become.

With a long sigh, Mia closed the basement door behind her and began her approach towards Eric. While the basement held a sense of melancholy, she steeled herself against it, focusing on the task at hand. After all, she had a duty to fulfill.

Mia’s bare feet padded silently against the cool concrete floor of the basement as she walked over to where Eric lay chained. She bent down and placed the plate of cold lasagna before him, scraping back a few stray strands of hair from her face as she did so.

A quiet, almost inaudible grunt emanated from Eric as he adjusted his body, laboriously maneuvering himself towards the food. Meal times, after all, were the only reprieve he was granted from his perpetual stillness.

With a slight shiver, Mia watched the tape-bound body of her childhood friend, his eyes obscured under layers of adhesive, as he fumbled with his meal. Her gaze dropped to her own legs, smooth and well cared for, glowing under the faint light of the basement. Seeing him in this state, it was hard to ignore the stark contrast between them. They were two sides of the same coin, but the disparity was jarring. She was the epitome of freedom, while he was a symbol of restriction.

She contemplated breaking the silence, but in the end, the words retreated. She turned her back to him, beginning to make her way back towards the stairs.

"…Mia," came a barely audible whisper from behind her.

Mia halted in her tracks, her heart missing a beat. She swiveled around, her brow furrowed. “Did you just speak?” she asked, her tone marked by a blend of surprise and annoyance.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Mia sighed, her annoyance giving way to a strange sensation of sympathy. Taking a moment to collect herself, she chastised him, her voice gentle but firm, “Eric, you know the rules. No talking."

There was a certain maternal lilt in her voice, mixed with a hint of irritation. She was stern, but there was no cruelty in her words. It was an odd balance, born from the bizarre circumstances of their shared existence.

Eric's voice was barely audible, hesitance coloring each word. "I know the rules," he admitted quietly, "But...I miss you."

Mia's initial response was one of mild irritation, the unexpected words pulling her out of her comfort zone. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her mouth pressing into a thin line as she regarded the pitiful form of her old friend. "Eric," she scolded him, her voice an oddly gentle rebuke, "You need to be quiet. Eat your meal." His only response was a grunt of agreement.

As she began to turn away, a faint feeling of guilt wormed its way into her heart. She sighed, her gaze shifting back to him. "You know the rules," she reiterated, her tone still carrying that unique blend of sternness and maternal warmth, "You shouldn't have said that. But..." she let her words trail off, taking a moment to collect herself.

A brief silence filled the space between them, the faint hum of the basement lights overhead the only sound. She took a deep breath and then relented, her voice softer, "You've made me feel bad now. So, I'll give you five minutes. Just five, okay?" Her words carried a promise, a rare concession from her usual firm stance, the edges of her strict exterior slightly softened by the raw vulnerability she'd just witnessed.

An odd sound of pure happiness, a sort of cross between a hum and a sigh, escaped from Eric, prompting Mia to roll her eyes and move back to sit down next to him. His head was turned towards her, anticipation palpable even through his immobile state. "Can I... talk, for the next five minutes?" he questioned hesitantly.

A sigh slipped out from Mia, the guilt gnawing at her patience. "Alright," she granted, her voice carrying a note of reluctance, "You can talk. But don't be annoying." She didn't relish this moment, disliking the idea of rewarding him for breaking the rules, but her desire to alleviate the awkward silence won out.

Eric's question was straightforward and subdued, "How have you and Lilly been?" Mia peered down at him, his mouth smeared messily with lasagna. She didn't respond immediately, instead fishing a napkin from the pocket of her hoodie.

"Come here," she instructed, tapping her lap softly to provide a clear audio cue. Obediently, Eric managed to move his head to rest on her bare legs. A faint grimace played on Mia's face as she surveyed the mess on his face, "You're gross, Eric. Just like a child, food all over your mouth."

Her words were gentle yet reproachful, and as she began to clean his face, her movements were slightly harsh in their efficiency. Wiping away the last traces of lasagna, she finally sighed and leaned back against the cold basement wall, ready to answer his question.

"Well, Lilly's been good. She's still seeing that guy, you remember, Tom? They're doing well. She's also working on that project she's been so excited about, the one for her fashion design class," she started, her voice low and calm.

"And me?" she continued, a soft chuckle escaping her lips, "I'm just trying to keep up with everything. Classes, work, looking after you... You're quite the handful, you know?" Her tone was teasing, an attempt to bring a bit of normalcy into their bizarre circumstance.

"I'm... glad you both are doing well," Eric's voice was a mere whisper, but the sincerity was unmistakable. Mia felt a strange sensation in her chest, a bizarre mixture of guilt, appreciation, and surprise. It was remarkable how Eric still cared for them, still wished them well after everything. She almost admired him for it, though the feeling was unsettling in its own right.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she nudged him playfully with her foot, "And how's your life been?" Her tone was teasing, the question clearly rhetorical.

Eric responded in kind, his voice carrying a hint of humor that was as surprising as it was rare, "Oh, you know... lots of exciting things happening down here in the basement." His words were soft, almost lost in the quiet of the basement, but his meaning wasn't lost on Mia.

A small chuckle slipped from her lips, mirroring his humor with her own, "Right, must be thrilling," she countered, her hand idly patting the top of his head. For a moment, there was a hint of the camaraderie they once had.

"So," Mia began, her tone suddenly contemplative, "Ever wonder what your life might have been like if... well, if things were different?"

Eric was quiet for a moment, perhaps considering his words or the enormity of the question. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet that Mia had to lean in to hear him. "I... I would've been a motocross champion."

A chuckle escaped Mia, the image of Eric, their basement-dwelling, obedient Eric, flying through the air on a motocross bike was utterly ridiculous. It was such a childlike dream, absurd and grandiose.

"That so?" She replied, her tone was maternal and gently teasing, "You, covered in mud, doing death-defying stunts?"

"Yeah," He murmured, the hint of a smile in his voice, "I think... I think I would've been good."

His words, though said with a playful tone, were a poignant reminder of the person he used to be - the boy who dreamt big but was never serious about anything. And perhaps, it was one of the reasons they had ended up where they were now. His inability to take anything seriously, his constant jesting, they had made it easy for them to take control, to shape their lives as they saw fit while his stagnated. And she couldn't help but wonder, if he had taken his life more seriously, would he still be in this basement?

There was a long silence as they both lost themselves in their thoughts. Suddenly, Mia felt a moist sensation on her leg. Startled, she looked down and realized that Eric was... licking her leg?

"Eric!" Mia recoiled slightly, pulling her leg away. "What the hell? What are you doing?"

He immediately stopped, mumbling a quiet apology.

As she looked at him, she could sense a genuine remorse. She realized that he'd been isolated for years, without human contact except for her and Lilly. He couldn't hug, he couldn't cuddle, he was bound and gagged and barely had room to move. Licking her leg might be his way of showing affection, much like a dog. It was his only physical connection to the world outside his basement.

Despite feeling a little grossed out, Mia sighed deeply, her tone softening. "It's okay, Eric," she said, pulling her leg back towards him. "You can... you can lick my leg if you want. Just don't do it too much, okay?"

"Okay," he murmured, clearly relieved. The room fell silent once again, save for the occasional slurping noise as Eric began gently licking her leg. And in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Mia watched as Eric continued his humble act of affection. Despite her initial surprise, she was beginning to enjoy the sensation. The warmth of his tongue on her skin, the  reverence in his movements as he carried out this act... it all served to affirm her sense of power.

His dedication was evident, and even though she was not kind to him, it was obvious that he still held her in the highest regard. It was as if he worshipped her, yearned for her attention, and was willing to take whatever he could get. The thought sent an intoxicating thrill of power coursing through her.

"Do you like it, Eric?" she asked, her voice honeyed with curiosity.

He mumbled a quiet, "Yes," against her skin, pausing his action only for a moment to reply.

"And what do I taste like?" she continued, her tone playful.

"Salty... but lovely," he admitted, his voice muffled against her skin.

Mia chuckled at his words, her laugh echoing softly around the basement. "I've always had nice legs, haven't I?" she queried, already knowing the answer.

His response was immediate, and despite his situation, heartfelt. "Yes, you always have," he replied, resuming his earlier actions with renewed vigor.

Mia found herself appreciating this strange, humble act of affection more than she'd anticipated. Eric's display of complete devotion - his unwavering affection for her despite the circumstances, was a strange source of comfort, and a potent reminder of the power she held over him.

But the tender sensation of Eric's tongue against her skin soon lost its novelty for Mia. The young woman gave a small yawn, her attention already drifting. "Okay, Eric, that's enough," she announced. Her tone was indifferent but firm.

Eric froze, immediately ceasing his actions. "Sorry," he mumbled. His tone was apologetic, almost sheepish. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Maybe... could we do this again soon?"

Mia's eyes narrowed at his question. She was used to his obedience, not his requests. "You know you're not allowed to make requests, Eric," she reprimanded, her tone stern. "And you've used up your five minutes. No more talking."

"I... I'm sorry," Eric stammered out, his voice low and barely audible.

Mia sighed, her annoyance subsiding. After all, she had decided to extend him a little leniency tonight. But that didn't mean he could push the boundaries. "Since I was nice enough to give you five minutes, you owe me something in return," she explained. She didn't want Eric to think he could manipulate the situation to his advantage by speaking out of turn.

Eric gave a feeble nod of agreement. "Okay."

Mia reached for the chain leash that was attached to Eric, unhooking it from the wall. "Stand up," she ordered. It took a while, and Mia's patience wore thin as she had to assist Eric in rising to his feet.

With Eric finally upright, Mia tugged at the leash, guiding him into the center of the room. Above them, the solitary basement lightbulb swayed gently, its chain dangling from the ceiling. She attached his leash to this chain, securing him in place.

"There," she said, stepping back and surveying her work. "Now you'll have to stand. You can't lay down." Mia's tone was devoid of any warmth as she clarified, "This is your punishment for speaking out of turn."

She looked at Eric. "I don't like doing this, Eric," she said. "But you didn't give me a choice. I can't have you thinking you're allowed to talk and ask for things without consequences."

"Sorry," Eric mumbled.

Mia turned to walk away, the cold concrete floor echoing her steps. Yet, as she neared the stairs, a pang of guilt tugged at her again. She glanced back at Eric, chained and helpless. He was a tragic figure, yet there was a strange dignity to him that she couldn't help but respect.

She sighed, softening her voice. "Eric," she began, "you know that Lilly and I... we love you, right? This isn't because we hate you or anything."

"I know," Eric murmured. His voice was faint, but there was a trace of something unbroken in it.

"And don't try to struggle or escape," she warned him, her tone stern again. "The chains will rattle and I'll hear you."

He nodded weakly. "I understand."

With a final look at Eric, Mia ascended the basement stairs, leaving him alone once more in the darkness. Her heart felt heavy, a sense of sympathy tempering her usual detachment. As the basement door closed behind her, she silently bid him farewell. Life would continue on, upstairs and down.