Times change 1 (Reward) (Patreon)

(BBW, SSBBW, WG, XWG, Slow burn)

Miles lay on his back in his fairly new, spacious bed, staring at the ceiling, while the subdued light from the nightstand lamp bathed the room in a warm, golden twilight and the shadows of the furniture drifted gently along the walls. Shadows he wasn’t yet completely familiar with. The reality of adulthood and taking responsibility for his own life was only slowly sinking in for the young former college student. The apartment he’d been able to afford after graduation and the start of his first real—and, above all, well-paying—job was a far cry from the small attic room where he’d grown up. A cramped little room where the walls had been so close together that he’d sometimes felt as if they were about to crush him. But his childhood home had been what it had been, and his parents had always tried to provide him with everything they possibly could.

Here, there were now high ceilings, large windows that let in light during the day and offered a view of the city lights in the evening, and enough space to finally breathe deeply without anything closing in on Miles. Yet that evening, despite all its spaciousness, the room felt strangely cramped as he held his phone and scrolled through the old photos from his school days—photos he’d filed away in a folder years ago and had hardly looked at since. He wasn’t homesick, nor was he feeling particularly sentimental or even melancholic. It was always a certain thing—or rather, a certain person—that drew Miles back to the pictures from that time every few weeks or months.

As he looked at them, the memories washed over him like waves, and with every swipe, another fragment of his childhood and youth surfaced that he had long since thought buried. There were the group photos from the sports field, in which they were all grinning at the camera in sweaty jerseys and with flushed faces. The class trips, the evenings in the park when they’d all sat together on the lawn and talked about the future as if it were still infinitely far away and yet within reach. And again and again, sometimes in the background, rarely in the foreground, Erin. It was only because of her that Miles regularly sank into these memories and thought about the moments he’d shared with this wonderful person.

She’d been his neighbor even as a child—the girl next door with whom he’d walked down the street to school, and with whom he’d later sat for hours in the attic while the rain pelted against the windows outside. They had loved each other since childhood—he knew that in hindsight with a clarity he might have lacked back then—and yet neither of them had dared to take the step of confessing that love to the other. Instead, they had grown up side by side, laughing, arguing, and crying together. Their bond had likely gone far beyond ordinary friendship, but the transition to a true romantic relationship had never happened. Erin and Miles had been as close as one could hardly imagine and had done everything together—except for the things that would have required them to admit their love to one another. It was a strange kind of connection that had always made both of them very happy, yet also very uncertain about taking the next possible step. When college began and they moved to different cities, their paths had parted quietly and without much drama, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It had been strange to suddenly be apart, but the turmoil and upheaval of college and growing up had distracted them both enough to let their connection slowly fade, despite their deep bond. A bit of a shame, of course, but not unusual. Still, Miles had never forgotten her—quite the opposite. From time to time, Erin would draw his thoughts back to her.

Now, years later, Miles lay in his new apartment looking at the photos in which Erin appeared again and again, and it felt as if he were truly seeing her for the first time. She was rather petite compared to him, with fair skin and light blonde hair that often fell messily around her face and that she sometimes tucked behind her ear when she was thinking. And then there were those fantastic, almost mystical green-blue eyes that lit up every time she smiled. Miles had always been ashamed when he thought such things. In his mind, it had always seemed far too pretentious and theatrical, but those were exactly the impressions he’d had whenever he’d gazed into those fascinating, sparkling emeralds.

Besides her eyes, it was Erin’s radiant smile that Miles remembered most vividly, along with the glasses she wore—which he’d always found somehow sexy on her because they gave her face a thoughtful yet very attractive air. Miles couldn’t say at all why he found that particular thing attractive, but since the young man sometimes had somewhat unconventional tastes when it came to women, he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Erin had always been cheerful, yet she’d always remained calm—never overly dolled up or “girly”—and that was exactly what had fascinated him about her: that blend of lightheartedness and down-to-earthness that she’d never tried to change to please anyone. Physically, Miles had always been attracted to her as well. To him, Erin was flawlessly beautiful. In fact, he’d always found her butt particularly appealing—it was nicely round and full, while the rest of her was rather slender. There was something natural and unassuming about that combination that still captivated Miles to this day and that he couldn’t help but notice in every single photo. He had often stared at her longer than necessary during the summer—at the outdoor pool or on similar occasions—just so he could admire that great butt a little longer.

He kept scrolling and paused at a photo showing the two of them on the stairs in front of her parents’ house. She was sitting one step higher than him, her arms wrapped around her knees, and was smiling at the camera, while he stood next to her, gazing off into the distance as if, at that moment, he hadn’t known where to direct his thoughts. Miles remembered the afternoon the photo was taken: They’d just finished their middle school exams and had come home exhausted and relieved at the same time, their backpacks still heavy with books and notes, and they’d sat down on the stairs because their parents were already waiting inside for them to tell them everything. He had almost told her how he felt back then—the words had been on the tip of his tongue, and he’d sensed the moment when everything could have turned out differently—and yet he’d remained silent because he’d been afraid of her response and because he didn’t want to risk destroying what they had. Later, when college started and they moved to different cities, the opportunity had been missed for good, and he’d convinced himself that it was better this way—that some things simply didn’t need to be said so they could live on.

Miles wasn’t stupid. He knew there was a difference between love and infatuation, and that those first school crushes rarely led to relationships that lasted forever. Yet what he felt for Erin was quite clearly one thing: unconditional love.

Now, in the silence of his new apartment, he wondered if he should just write to her after all this time. The message could be short, something casual—a “How are you?” or a comment on an old photo he’d just seen, or maybe even the truth, wrapped so carefully that you could overlook it if you wanted to. But the longer he thought about it, the more uncertain he became. What should he say without sounding awkward or intrusive? What if she’d long since found someone else, or if she barely remembered him, or if she did remember and it made her uncomfortable? The thoughts swirled around in his head, and he set his phone aside, turned off the screen, and stared at the ceiling again, while outside the sounds of the city drifted softly against the windows—but the memory of Erin lived on, quiet and persistent, in his mind.

He thought of all the times they’d sat side by side on the sofa in her living room watching movies neither of them particularly liked, just so they could do something together. He thought of the afternoons in the garden when they’d dug up her father’s flower beds and talked about everything under the sun, and of the evenings when they’d lain on the roof of the shed and counted the stars, even though they both knew they didn’t know most of their names. He thought of the moments when their hands had touched—when they’d exchanged books or helped each other carry something heavy—and of the feeling that had washed over him every time, a feeling he’d never been able to put into words. He thought of the days when she’d been sick and he’d brought her homework, and of the nights when he himself hadn’t been able to sleep and she’d texted him to say she was still awake, in case he wanted to talk. Erin and Miles had grown up in a small, sheltered town. It was the perfect blend of the innovations of the modern world—like social media and WhatsApp—yet still rural enough for them to truly know one another and experience crazy, silly things in real life during their childhood.

All of that was now behind Miles, and yet at the same time it felt so close, as if he could reach out and touch the past. There they were again—those dramatic, wistful thoughts that always surfaced whenever he thought of Erin. The apartment around him was quiet; only the soft hum of the refrigerator drifted over from the kitchen, and somewhere in the distance a car honked. Miles rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket up a bit, but sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, he scrolled through the photos again, pausing at another picture where Erin was laughing, her glasses slightly askew and her hair tousled by the wind. Miles had taken that picture himself, and he could feel Erin’s radiant eyes shining at him through the smartphone screen.

Miles felt something tighten in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He wondered again whether he should message her. In fact, this time he even opened his Instagram app and was on the verge of going to her profile—something Miles had been avoiding almost since the moment they both started college. Countless photos and profiles he followed—ranging from cute, curvy to plus-size content creators—flashed past his fingers, and at that moment, he couldn’t have cared less about any of them. The young man certainly couldn’t deny having a certain affinity for curvier women’s bodies.

Miles stopped himself at the last moment and closed the app again. He just didn’t know what to say, and the more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that he wouldn’t know that night either.

Instead, he put his phone aside for good, turned off the lamp, and closed his eyes. The darkness enveloped him, and with it the images returned: Erin on the stairs, Erin in the park, Erin with her glasses and her radiant smile, Erin, who was so close and yet so far away. He took a deep breath in and out, listened to the soft murmur of the city, and let his thoughts slowly settle, even though he knew they’d be back tomorrow.

Erin’s beautiful, soft body and the lovely, sweet curves of her behind. The way her hair moved when she walked and smiled at him. Finally, Miles fell asleep, and in his dreams he was back on those stairs, and this time he actually said the words he hadn’t said back then, and she answered. Everything was different in this dream—and just as it probably should have always been.