Jeremy took his mornings slower with Michael next to him. He marveled at the soft noises he made in his sleep; the tiniest of moans and sighs. Every now and then he'd twitch, like a sleeping puppy.

He found himself lying awake to soak up the peace in his sleeping expression. He snored softly with his mouth askew. Nothing troubled him in these fragile moments. Jeremy felt somehow that he was the one meant to keep Michael safe—not the other way around.

Michael didn't like to get up but instead had a habit of latching onto him and keeping him prisoner. He definitely didn't mind it, except maybe when he was itching for a cigarette. Most mornings he lost himself in the smell of his skin and the pace of his breath. Sometimes he stared at his tattoos and tried to choose a favorite.

When Michael finally did rouse himself he was talkative and only moderately coherent. He'd rub his eyes, yawn a few times, and sit with his back against the headboard. Jeremy brought coffee into the bedroom so they could talk and lean on one another before work.

"You think the couch feels lonely?" Michael snickered into his mug that morning.

"Do I think the couch feels?" he laughed.

"It's a reasonable question," Michael said. His nose wrinkled as he grinned. "I mean, I slept on the sofa for a long time. How would you feel if someone slept next to you all those weeks and then abandoned you for someone more comfy?"

"Only you would actually spend time thinking about this stuff," said Jeremy in a fond tone. Jeremy kissed Michael's temple and sighed softly against him. Things were different between them now, undoubtedly for the better. He leaned in further to meet his lips.

He could see the moments when Michael was grappling to trust him. He understood. Sometimes trust wasn't about fearing the other person's intentions but imagining that one day they'd wake up and not love you anymore. He was surprised he wasn't feeling the same thing… If there was a struggle they shared, it was self-loathing.

He trusted Michael implicitly. He never felt he deserved his love but he couldn't imagine him ever betraying him. Michael was loyal in ways he couldn't wrap his head around.

"You've got a weird mixture of coffee and morning breath," Jeremy said softly.

"So do you, dummy," Michael said.


Jeremy let out a shiver as droplets of water left over from the shower he'd taken earlier fell onto his skin. Still, he didn't draw back from him. Fucking masochistic, he thought.

"It's New Year's Eve," Jeremy said. "You excited for the concert tonight?"

He saw the moment he remembered. The grin spread into his eyes.

"Hell yeah!" said Michael. "It's gonna be so fuckin' rad."

He repressed a tremble as Michael's fingers brushed his spine. Surely they were past the point that they could say they were rushing? Darkly, he wondered if he was loud when he came. Jesus, he hoped so. He thought too of each piece of artwork that must have rested in places he'd never noticed or seen. All those tattoos…

He shook the thought from his head and stood up to get more coffee.


There was a surprising amount of solace to be found in the routine they'd created. The nights spent resting innocently against each other; the quiet mornings; the idle touches through the day; kissing in the car before work… The world hurt less.

The concert was easily one of the best nights of his life. The band meant more to Michael but he still enjoyed it. He smiled at the sight of his bright eyes, fixated ahead. He didn't let go of his hand for a moment the entire show but he never glanced away from the stage either. He noticed him singing along under his breath with most songs.

Every sense was overloaded with bright lights, the screaming guitars, pounding drums, cheers of the crowd, bodies brushing against his own, and the mixed smells of smoke and cheap alcohol. He could see Michael loving every second of it with a transparent intensity.

The show ended with Tim Armstrong getting the crowd to count down to the New Year. No later than the moment midnight came, Michael kissed him hard.

"Happy New Year," he gasped against him.

Like a high, adrenaline surged through Jeremy's system even when the show was over. Locked in a moment with Michael forever was the second the New Year began. He'd wrapped his hands around his face and let himself collide into him.

"Happy New Year," Jeremy said breathlessly.


"That was the best night ever," Michael sighed in the car.

"Yeah?" Jeremy grinned widely; the smile he wore bled into his eyes, lighting them up.

"Yeah," Michael said. And he didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to hold himself back, he only wanted to keep feeling. He needed to drown in it.

"I love you so much," he whispered into Jeremy's ear. Running his fingers through the other man's curly hair, he kissed a path down his jawline, neck, and collarbone. "Let's go home."

A strange expression of happiness and at the same time, want, stayed in Jeremy's eyes as they drove home.

"What are you thinking?" Jeremy hummed thoughtfully, referring to his hand resting against his inner thigh as he drove.

"That it's gonna be a hell of a year." Michael smirked. He watched a flush seep across Jeremy's face as he traced delicate circles with his thumb over his jeans.

He fidgeted anxiously with the keys and finally got the door open. They idled around the apartment for what felt like ages, making innocent yet loaded conversation, recapping the night. Michael's resolve hardened as he caught the sight of the bedroom door. He was steady. He was sure.

Jeremy met him halfway as he leaned forward. Feverish and intense, he kissed him and felt the man's hand come to rest on his hip. Panting, he broke the kiss and leaned his head against him. Methodically he ran his hand up his stomach and chest. He felt him tremble and savored it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jeremy whispered.

"Positive," he said firmly. Because he really was.