My Enemy, My Friend (Enchanted Forest) - Episode 2

Episode 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/my-enemy-my-1-115173903

...

Episode 2

Part 6

The campfire crackled softly, casting a gentle light over the dark forest. The woods around them were steeped in deep shadows that flickered and vanished beyond the ring of light, and it was quiet—almost unnaturally quiet. Chet leaned back onto the cold moss, feeling the ache in his body after the long day. Eric, after starting the fire, had easily caught and killed a small animal, while Chet… After a few clumsy attempts to butcher it, he realized he was good for nothing here, except maybe acting like some useless girl with skills only in one area he preferred not to think about.

— Why don’t you handle the cooking? — Eric smirked, handing him a piece of meat and eyeing Chet with a barely hidden hint of amusement.

Chet grimaced as he took the meat reluctantly.

— Are you out of your mind? — he scowled, glaring at the piece of meat that Eric had shoved at him with such confidence. Narrowing his eyes, he tossed it back in irritation, wiping his hands on the grass as though he’d been forced to touch something utterly vile. — Do I look like your maid? Cook it yourself if you’re so talented.

Eric chuckled, watching Chet pull back, his face twisting in pure disgust. It looked like he’d be sick any second.

— Ever since we got here, you’ve been acting like some… princess who’s seeing something “unclean” for the first time. Never thought you’d be so… delicate, — he said, reaching out and picking up the discarded piece of meat.

Chet rolled his eyes, trying to keep up his usual arrogance, but there was a hint of irritation in his gaze. He watched as Eric calmly skewered the meat, his movements steady and practiced.

— It’s this damn forest, — Chet huffed, turning up his nose and crossing his arms. — And its stupid curse! And by the way, genius, do you have anything in that head of yours besides… sticks and fires?

Eric just smirked, ignoring the jab, and continued to prepare the meat, carefully piercing it with a sharp stick. His calm confidence only irritated Chet more, as it seemed like he was actually enjoying Chet’s helplessness. And yet, Chet couldn’t help but notice just how… dependable this damned nature freak, who he’d always thought was a weakling, looked. And that thought cut him deep.

— You know what’s the strangest part? — Eric suddenly said, looking up and meeting Chet’s gaze directly. — After I… touched you, — he continued calmly, his eyes fixed on Chet without blinking, — I actually felt a lot stronger. Like you somehow gave me strength, kinda like a healer.

Chet, already nauseated by the turn this conversation was taking, felt his face heat up and glanced at Eric with frustration.

— A healer? What kind of crap are you spouting now? — Chet muttered, turning away nervously, feeling his cheeks starting to betray him by reddening again. He flinched as the memory of that touch resurfaced: the heat in his chest, the tremor in his hands, and that strange, unexplainable urge that had felt both uncomfortable and… pleasant. Now, even the memory of it felt humiliating. Chet sighed and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought.

Part 7

Eric leaned in a little, almost as if responding to Chet's attempt to dodge the conversation.

— A healer, Chet, is… well, someone who helps, restores strength — he kept working on the meat — I don’t know how else to put it, but when I touched you… I don’t know, I felt this surge, like something filling me up with energy. It got easier to move, to deal with those beasts. Every adventuring party has healers, it’s just basic–

— Shut up with your nerdy crap! — Chet snapped, clenching his fists and shaking his head helplessly as long strands of hair brushed against his neck. He’d never heard this nonsense before, and he didn’t even want to think about it. Who the hell cared who was “charging up” who?!

Eric just shook his head and kept calmly cooking, his expression steady and confident, which only pissed Chet off more.

— I’m just trying to explain, Chet, — he said, pausing as if weighing whether it was worth saying more.

— If you just fuc– — Chet started, but cut himself off, feeling his face go hot. He didn’t even know why. Before, as messed up and humiliating as it was, he could at least think of sex with Eric as the only way out of this damned forest, and his resolve somehow held. But now… now he felt a strange shame, not because he’d had to suggest it, but something else, almost like a girlish embarrassment, like he was some shy schoolgirl who could barely say it out loud. His cheeks flared even hotter when he looked at Eric and saw him raise an eyebrow, clearly catching his hesitation.

— Are you… blushing? — Eric’s voice held a faint mockery, a tone that instantly made Chet feel the blood rushing to his face.

— Go to he– — Chet tried, but his voice came out too weak and caught in his throat. He clamped a small, too-soft hand over his mouth, feeling his face literally burning as his trembling fingers betrayed the turmoil inside. He wanted to scream, "Go to hell, you damn nature freak!" but the words stuck in his throat, like some disgusting lump he couldn’t swallow or spit out. Suddenly, Chet realized he couldn’t squeeze a single angry word out. He felt like a weakling — his small, trembling fingers covering his lips, his face burning so hot he could barely breathe.

— What’s the matter? — Eric leaned in a bit closer, almost teasing. — Is it too hard to get a few tough words out, princess?

Chet felt his fists clench even tighter. He struggled to throw out a sharp, defiant retort like he usually would, but all that came out was a pitiful squeak, a scrap of outrage that got lost somewhere between uncertainty and embarrassment.

Part 8

— Go… to hell… nature freak… — Chet forced out, hardly believing how his voice shook. But before he could get angry and rebuild his confidence, his stomach let out a loud, unmistakable growl that cut through the forest’s silence.

Eric smirked, just barely audibly, but enough for Chet to notice. A hint of hidden amusement flashed in his eyes, making Chet feel even worse.

— Hungry, are we? — Eric drawled, holding out a piece of freshly roasted meat. There was a glint of sarcasm as he added, — Or maybe you’re on a diet? Isn’t that what girls do, you know, “to keep their figure”?

— Go… — Chet tried to brush him off again, but the words came out weak and muddled. Instead of his usual outrage, he only felt a fresh wave of embarrassment.

Without breaking his steady gaze, Eric held out the meat.

— Alright, enough with the attitude, — he said, a bit more gently. — Just eat, Chet, — Eric’s voice was soft but firm, like he somehow knew it was exactly what was needed. — We’re never getting out of here if you keep trying to act like the old Chet. You just need strength here.

— Stop talking to me like that, — Chet snapped, desperately clinging to what little pride he had left. But his voice betrayed him, shaking, and in an instant, all his usual bravado vanished. — And since when did you get so damn confident?

Eric narrowed his eyes slightly, watching as Chet, cautious and a bit hesitant, took the offered meat between his fingers, like it was something dangerous or disgusting.

Chet hardly realized how unsure he looked at that moment: pinching the meat with his fingertips, he looked completely unlike himself — once he’d have taken it with a smug grin, bold and sure. Now, avoiding Eric’s gaze, he slowly raised the food to his lips, as if bracing himself for some mocking comment at any second.

Eric couldn’t hold back a smirk.

— Just eat it, Chet. Don’t worry, it won’t bite you, — he said with that gentle mockery that made Chet glare daggers at him, though he couldn’t find a comeback.

— This is… — Chet muttered, taking a small bite. The juicy taste filled his mouth almost immediately, and he felt something warm and soothing spread through him. To his own surprise, he felt a sting of tears welling up — either from finally satisfying his hunger or from the pathetic sight he must have been right now. A little girl, chewing gingerly, practically on the verge of tears over a bite of meat — the very thought made him burn with shame.

Part 9

Chet tried to wipe away the traitorous tears with his palm, nearly choking in the process, but it only made him look even more pathetic. Anger flared up, his shoulders shaking with tension as he shut his eyes for a moment, trying to pull himself together. But before he could, he heard Eric’s quiet voice:

— Hey… you alright? — Eric’s voice was soft, with none of the earlier mockery, just calm, almost surprised curiosity.

Chet opened his eyes and looked at him, trying to put on an irritated expression, but it only made his vulnerability more obvious. His large, slightly damp eyes glistened in the firelight, making him look even more exposed than he’d ever imagine.

Noticing Chet’s look, Eric’s expression softened, the usual sarcasm replaced by mild confusion and something that resembled concern. For a brief moment, it was as if he no longer saw the old cocky troublemaker but someone far more fragile and helpless, someone hiding behind a mask of aggression.

Chet, noticing this shift, gritted his teeth and muttered, turning away:

— What’re you staring at? Just eat.

Eric didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on Chet a bit longer than Chet could tolerate. He could feel Eric’s eyes on him, feel his attention, and it made his heart pound so hard that the sound echoed in his ears. His face felt like it might ignite, and he wanted to turn away, to hide his embarrassment, to disappear — anywhere, just so Eric wouldn’t see him like this. Chet pressed his lips together, fighting the mix of frustration and strange confusion that had gripped him ever since Eric had touched him.

Since Eric had touched his chest, something inside Chet had shifted. He felt it too acutely, even if he tried not to admit it. Sure, he’d already been pretty useless here, constantly needing to be rescued, falling into one ridiculous mishap after another. But now… why couldn’t he just snap back like he used to, sharp and defiant? Why did every word seem to slip past his lips, coming out as some weak, pathetic squeak? And what the hell was wrong with that piece of meat? Just looking at it made him feel sick, like he wanted to turn away and pinch his nose.

Eric must have sensed it too, because now he was watching him differently — intensely, studying him, as if trying to figure out what was really going on in Chet’s head. It was maddeningly strange, all wrong, and, worst of all, too real.

Barely managing to suppress the rising irritation and that damn blush, Chet clenched his jaw, hiding his gaze as he muttered:

— Stop looking at me like that, Eric, seriously…