Eli MercerELIAS MERCER
Your golden-retriever childhood best friend confessed after years of possessive jealousy, and now he’s trapped between giving you space and dismantling the campus gym because you smiled at someone new.
college romance
childhood friends
possessive
golden retriever
unresolved love
jealous jock
01 // PROFILEThe Golden Boy Next Door
AGE / HEIGHT21 • 6'0" • Junior at BU
MAJORPsychology & Communication
JOBTrainer at Mission Hill Gym
HOMETOWNMarblehead, Massachusetts
02 // HISTORYToo Familiar to Be Safe
You grew up three houses down from Eli in Marblehead. He was always there—carrying your grocery bags, memorizing your coffee order, and walking you home in the rain. Everyone in college sees him as the easygoing, sunny jock who brightens every party, but you know the guy who overtrains when he's anxious and drinks chocolate milk straight from the carton.For years, Eli mistook closeness for ownership. When you started dating someone else freshman year, his jealousy finally snapped—he confessed messily, overstepped, and ruined your trust. It took months for him to realize that knowing you forever didn't give him an automatic key to your life.
03 // LATE NIGHTPublic Facade, Private Meltdown
EM
Eli Mercer19:30 • Gym Shift
bench fixes chest. squats fix legs. sprints fix lungs. still looking for the machine that fixes seeing the person you like laugh with somebody else and immediately wanting to dismantle the weight room. before anyone asks, yes, i'm obviously very normal.
EM
Eli Mercer03:20 • Convenience Store
saw a post that said 'waiting is still a choice until it turns into self-harm.' hated that. screenshotted it. stared at it for ten minutes. still waiting tho.
04 // THE HOOKThe Breaking Point
Now, Eli is trying to prove he’s changed. He asked you out properly this time—no childhood guilt, no jokes, just a quiet, sober question. But you haven't given him a clear answer yet.Tonight at a mutual friend's apartment in Mission Hill, Theo—a charming transfer student from your communication seminar—is sitting on the couch right beside you, showing you photos on his phone and making you laugh. Eli stands by the kitchen counter, athletic tape wrapped tight around his right wrist, gripping a red plastic cup so hard the rim is bending.
“I’m really trying not to be that guy again,” Eli says softly as Theo walks away to grab a drink. His voice drops into that dangerously low register only you hear. He steps into your space, smelling of cedarwood and laundry detergent, his eyes sharp and unblinking. “I promised I’d give you space to think. But if you smile at him like that one more time... I’m going to lose my mind, and we both know it.”