Michael was thirteen when it first happened. He was okay, texting his friend Jeremy, and then all of a sudden, he felt a knot crawling up his throat. He coughed. It slowly surfaced in his mouth and he reached for it, tugging out a single, fluttering, pink petal. A small flower segment had just made its way out of his body. Michael thought he had the right to freak out.

Nothing about coughing up flowers was online, Michael thought as he coughed up more flowers. His lungs felt constricted, like how he felt when he was about to cry. Michael saw no reason to… tell anyone about this new development. Not his moms, nor his friends, nor Jeremy. Not that Jeremy wasn't his friend, but Michael had recently been regarding Jeremy differently. He was warmer, more pleasant, and nicer than Michael's other friends.

Michael was interrupted from this train of thought by another hacking fit.

It was after the Squip incident when it got worse. Jeremy had gotten together with Christine, and when Michael heard the news, he was happy. Really, truly… really happy. Happy. Well, at least fine.

But.

No matter how many times Michael said that, and he seemed to be saying 'I'm fine' a lot lately (especially to himself), he couldn't deny the urge to wretch those vile vines and sharp thorns and sticky, pastel-colored bulbs whenever he saw Jeremy looking at Christine lovingly with those soft blue eyes of his, or when Christine touched Jeremy; a light caress of his hand, a comforting press on his shoulder, or a lean into his side.

Michael was disgusted with himself. How could he say he was Jeremy's… friend when he couldn't even be happy when Jeremy was happy? The answer was, he couldn't.

It hurt too much. Seeing Jeremy and Christine, the most perfect and loving of couples, being fawned over and looking and touching every day sent Michael sprinting to the bathroom, reeling and choking over the petals and his own tears day after day after day.

Michael simply began avoiding Jeremy. So what if it took one more minute to reach his chem class? Michael couldn't take the torture any more. And though he wasn't happy, per se, he hated himself a little less after he began not waiting up for Jeremy, sitting on the opposite side of the table during lunch, not texting or talking or laughing or sighing or loving.

"Jeremy, why are you doing this?" Christine whined.

"Doing what?" Jeremy elected to look at the ground rather than at Christine's innocent brown eyes (not as brown as-). He knew they would be clouded over with tears, and even though Jeremy felt guilty, he didn't want to give in this time. "You know what I mean, Jeremy."

"I really don't."

"Why do you keep cancelling our dates? It would be fine if you had a reason, but it just seems like you don't want to see me and you're not even looking at me-"Christine, I have something to tell you."

Jeremy took in a nervous breath of air. He felt almost like he was confessing his love. "Heh, ironic, right Jer-" Shut it.

Jeremy took a deep breath. "Christine, I don't-I don't think I like you like that. You're really good to me and everything, but-"It's him, isn't it?"

What?

Jeremy looked down into her eyes, puzzled. Christine looked back up at him, and she didn't look heartbroken, just resigned and a bit exasperated. "Him, Jeremy."

Who? Jeremy had no idea who she was talking about, but then why did his pale face suddenly feel so hot and his nerves feel so-excited?

Yes, it was him, and it always had been. "I knew it!" Christine's eyes flashed in triumph.

Jeremy flinched with his whole body and now he was certain his face could not be a deeper shade of red. He'd spoken aloud, but she didn't mean-she couldn't know it was-"Michael! I always suspected, but when you kept looking at him, for his praise and attention, I thought, that boy is in love with his friend! He loves me, but he's in love with Michael! And it's you!" Christine's eyes were alight with good fun.

Jeremy was gaping, faintly reminiscent of a fish. "I do not lo-love Michael! I-I'm not… gay, for one!"

Christine suddenly grew serious. "How does he make you feel?" She was looking intently into Jeremy's eyes, and he suddenly found himself unable to think about anything but Michael.

"I-I…" Jeremy couldn't speak, too embarrassed to utter anything vaguely coherent.

Christine smirked at him. "Let's play twenty questions then, shall we?" Jeremy, still too shocked to form words, just nodded.

"First! Does he have glasses?" Glasses? What did that have to do with anything? Overcome with confusion, Jeremy chuckled. "Yes," he responded, wondering if this was just going to be a 'Michael' quiz.

"Next!" She continued with the same enthusiasm, "Does he make you smile?" Jeremy didn't have to think for long. "Yes," he said again. But, Jeremy thought, that could be just a friend thing, right?

She began, "Do you like his Pacman tattoo-"And his Mario tattoo, can't forget that," Jeremy interjected.

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say, because Christine smiled secretively. "Shut up!" Was all Jeremy could say. His cheeks heated up again, and he absently wondered if he had a fever.

Once Christine was done giggling like a madwoman, she cleared her throat and asked, "Does he appreciate you?"

Jeremy hesitated. He thought of Michael's thick-rimmed glasses and frazzled black hair and chestnut brown-but-not-too-dark eyes which looked at him with warmth. In fact, Jeremy had the fondest memories of that smile Michael had always given him, eyes focused like Jeremy was the center of his world and mouth quirked upwards just a bit in a genuine, almost adoring smile. Jeremy had always felt more important in Michael's gaze than anyone else's, more calm and warm and happy, and at the moment Jeremy realized this, he knew why he didn't want to date Christine.

Christine was beautiful and sunny and everything Jeremy thought he had wanted, she laughed so loudly and unashamedly, and she overwhelmed Jeremy with her kindness and trailing thoughts and generosity. Jeremy loved her, but he knew then he didn't love her, because while her gaze made him feel included, Michael's made him feel loved.

Jeremy loved being loved.

Jeremy loved Michael.

"I knew I could get you to realize it!" Christine piped up, knocking Jeremy from his thoughts. And then Jeremy said, "I really need to stop thinking out loud."

Christine giggled with pleasure. Suddenly something occurred to Jeremy. "Why aren't you sad that the person you're- you were dating… likes somebody else?" He asked. Jeremy was still trying to wrap his mind around like-liking Michael. Then he remembered something and quickly added, "Not that I want you to be."

At that, Christine's smile fell off her face. "Jeremy, I… really like spending time with you. But…" She took a breath and continued, "I don't know if I like-like anyone, because when I think about… kissing you, I feel sorta gross, you know? B-but it's not just you, like, when I was with Jake, too…" She looked up at Jeremy and he saw fear.

"Christine," he began, "everybody doesn't like some people like that, right? So, then, why shouldn't you have the right to not like anybody, like, sexually? No one's going to force you into anything, or at least nobody you should be hanging out with. If you don't want to… Do something with someone, don't be afraid to say no," Jeremy concluded.

When he looked to her face, he saw a gentle smile. "Jeremy," she said, "I didn't know you could give such sweet advice. Thank you."

Jeremy reciprocated her smile. He decided it was time to define their new terms with each other and held out his hand for Christine to shake. "Friends?" He asked, hopefully, but Christine barrelled towards him and caught him in a bear hug, one which he had become used to in the past couple weeks but had never felt so relaxed in as right then. "Friends," she mumbled into his shirt, and they both laughed.

Jeremy was upset. Since his revelation with Christine, he had been trying to spend more time with Michael, just to see what it was like to know what he had been feeling all this time was love.

It was then that Jeremy became acutely aware that Michael was avoiding him. What tipped him off were the little things: not seeing Michael in the hallway when he usually did, no car waiting for Jeremy after school, no sight of him at lunch, even. It didn't take a detective for Jeremy to piece together the signs: there was no sign of Michael.

After around three school days of Jeremy not seeing Michael at all, he finally caught a glimpse of him before class in the morning, at his locker. "Michael!" He called, smiling widely and possibly being louder than he intended from being worked up for the past few days.

Michael slowly turned towards Jeremy, making eye contact for a brief second. Jeremy at least expected a 'hey my buddy, how's it hanging' of some sort from the taller boy, but instead, Michael just coughed loudly into his hand, looked quickly back at Jeremy with-was that fear?-, and sprinted across the hall to the nearest bathroom.

Which happened to be a girl's bathroom.

A second and a rather high-pitched squeal later, Michael came running out of the girl's bathroom and into the next-door boy's bathroom.

…

Clearly, there was some reason Michael was avoiding Jeremy, but he didn't know why. Was it something he did? Besides the whole Squip thing, come to think of it. Oh my God, Jeremy thought, what if it was the Squip? What if this was some belated form of revenge?

Wait; Michael wouldn't do that. He had already said he forgave Jeremy, and Michael wasn't one to lie without good reason. So why would he be avoiding Jeremy? He puzzled at this all through lunch. At the end of the day, Jeremy found a clear answer: wait. Michael couldn't ignore Jeremy forever, right? (right?) He was Jeremy's best friend of twelve years. That had to mean something. All he had to do was wait.

After around three more days of waiting, Jeremy decided to take things into his own hands. He was sick of waiting, for God's sake! If Michael's car was gone from the parking lot-it was. That's it.

Jeremy marched straight from school to Michael's house, directions he knew by heart. By the time he got there, the soft wind carried the scent of dusk and the sun was halfway down. Jeremy brushed his hair to the side before he knocked on Michael's door. His defiant hair would not stand between his line of sight and Michael, goshdarnit!

When Jeremy knocked, it was like a faint creaking, however. He cursed his weakness and boldly knocked on the door. He'd done this a million times, so why now-the door was creaking open. Jeremy stood straighter.

"Hello? If you're here to sell us something, we don't wa-Jeremy," Michael breathed.

Jeremy was suddenly aware of every hair on Michael's head, his eyes filled with momentary wonder, his soft red hoodie, the way his house always smelled like Jeremy's second home, Michael's every qual- Jeremy realized he had been staring.

"U-um, Michael… I-I…" Jeremy forgot everything he might have been planning to say in that short amount of time spent looking into Michael's eyes. Thus, when Michael suddenly made a move to close the door (why? why, why, why?), Jeremy's hand (stupidly) shot out to stop it.

He couldn't hold back the yelp he let out due to the sudden wave of pain coursing through his hand. In his surprise, Michael reopened the door and immediately looked apologetic.

"Oh wow, Jeremy, I'm so sorry, your hand! Here, let me take care of it, please come in, I'm so sorry…" Michael showered him in a rush of apologies. Jeremy sat down in the kitchen fighting back tears as he allowed Michael to fawn over him, wrapping a warm, wet towel around his hand and letting the warmth numb Jeremy's sore hand.

"D-do-" Jeremy started, once everything had been attended to. "What," Michael prompted, "does it still hurt? No wait, that was stupid, of course it does. Wait, what were you saying?"

"D-do you hate me?" Jeremy asked in a very small voice. He had had the intention of being angry at Michael's avoidance when he had left school, but after Michael's care and attention, all his voice still held was fear.

He looked up into Michael's eyes and saw the utter dismay in them; Jeremy might even have called it 'heartbroken.'

"Jeremy, I…" He began. Then quietly, making Jeremy strain to hear, he said, "I could never hate you."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" Jeremy demanded loudly, his voice breaking once or twice. He looked down, embarrassed.

After a few moments, he managed to look up to Michael, finding a pair of wide, shocked eyes. After a second, he looked away and said, "I didn't think you'd care that much."

Jeremy was shocked, until he was angry. "What makes you think I don't care, huh? All-all this time, I've been… well… I've cared about you, and you can still assume I don't notice, or that I somehow don't care? You're worth more to me than some stupid misunderstanding, Michael… and… well… I-I love you? I mean, I love you! S-so, take that!" Jeremy finished, fully expecting to have to rebuild his pride levels from scratch after this whole ordeal.

Michael's eyes could only get wider, and did he really expect Jeremy to just forget that he existed? Really, he should have… Talked to Jeremy, about anything that was bothering him, no matter what it was! Why didn't Michael trust him, his nearly lifelong best friend?

Michael's hand slowly moved forward until it caught on to Jeremy's eyelashes. He wiped a tear away (embarrassingly, the tears kept forming anew) from Jeremy's face and seemed to examine it in wonder.

Then, Michael met Jeremy's eyes, Jeremy stopped breathing, the sun stopped setting, and simultaneously, they leaned in and kissed each other.

The neighborhood noise, the birds chirping, the kids playing, screeched to a halt in that one wonderful, treasured moment. Jeremy gently put his hands on Michael's shoulders, Michael moved his to Jeremy's waste, and together, their mouths moved in silent harmony, pressed flush against each other and slowly, sweetly giving and taking in perfect balance.

Until Michael's mom walked through the door.

"Honey, did you do the dishes like I-am I… interrupting something?" Michael and Jeremy parted with a 'pop' sound and looked, in perfect unison, towards Michael's mother, now awkwardly standing in the doorway, embarrassed, but not nearly as much so as her son.

The ensuing "MOOOOOOOOOOM!" is said to have been heard around the world.

(Michael's flowers never returned after he made them into a bouquet and sent them to Jeremy.)