Jeremy
"Is that a plan?" Jeremy gestures, walking through the plan and tries not to notice the way Michael's smile looks like it's an animal that doesn't want to come out of its cage, and Michael is dragging it out.
The black remote shines at Jeremy's feet, and Jeremy tosses it to Michael the way they do. "Here bro, the game is on!"
Michael's hand shoots out to catch it, the remote slapping into his hand- and Michael lets out a sharp gasp. It's gone as soon as if came, and Jeremy knows Michael didn't mean to make a sound.
"What-"
"Nothing."
That's suspicious- the way Michael denies it instantly and won't look Jeremy in the eye.
"Hey," Jeremy starts nervously. His heart won't stop backing away as if scared to go further, but dammit, this is his friend. This is the boy his heart performs flips for.
Michael's posture is ramrod straight, his eyes never leaving the screen.
"Michael."
"Mmmm."
Jeremy sighs, killing his player. "Michael."
"That wasn't the plan," Michael mumbles, not moving his eyes from the screen.
Jeremy has to move in front of the screen- he knows he's got every reason to not be trusted, but best friends talk to each other. He turns off the TV, ignoring the way Michael throws his hands up in incredulous frustration.
"Dude, what the hell?"
"Can I see your hand?" Jeremy dives right in.
Michael pulls it to his chest as if burned. "Uh," he laughs higher than normal. "Why, you gonna read my palm?"
Jeremy knows he doesn't deserve Michael's trust. Or his friendship. Or his anything, really. He doesn't deserve to crush on someone so much better. Knowing doesn't make not being trusted any less painful.
Michael
"Please?" Jeremy's voice cracks comically, but nothing else in the situation is funny.
Michael doesn't want Jeremy to feel bad, but it's more than that. He just wants to move on. No one needs to linger on a painful past when you can throw yourself into a happier future. (Except Michael's still working on that part.)
"No," Michael says, shoving his hand into his pocket, "Pot, my friend?"
"Michael," Jeremy says, as if Michael is the only word in his vocabulary.
"Jeremy."
"Why can't I see your hand?"
"Why do you want to?" Michael counters.
Jeremy scowls. "Because- because you won't let me."
"Never know you love it 'till you lose it." Michael looks up and winks, amazed to find a blush on Jere's pale cheeks. Stop it, he thinks, stop hoping, loser.
"Fuck off, Michael, are you hiding something or not?"
"You fuck off," Michael avoids the second part, wishing he were anywhere else.
The burn mark is a physical scar that Jeremy left behind. It's saying hey, look, you hurt me, see? In big, bold letters. It's taking we can be normal and stabbing it to pieces.
"Are you hiding something?"
"Don't trust me?" Michael teases playfully.
Jeremy's frustrated breath hits the back of Michael's neck and now is not the time to be thinking about whipping around, faces inches apart, and asking why the hell he cares so much…
"I do trust you," Jeremy says softly, and Michael's stomach flips upside down.
"It was a joke," he grins, "I was teasing."
"Do you trust me?" Jeremy's smile is back, but it's a nervous one.
"Bro, it's a sad day in high school when you can't trust your best friend." Now, Michael does turn fully to look at Jeremy.
"Do you?"
"Yes, of course." He does. Absolutely. So why do the words taste bitter on his lips?
Jeremy's shoulder nudges his own, and Michael feels his heart skip a beat. "So. The hand…"
Michael pulls himself away, angling back towards the screens. "Nothing."
"See, doesn't seem like you trust me." The cheery notes of their conversation have vanished, no longer even attempting to drown out the walls and shields. And. Distrust.
"Don't push it." Michael lets the sharp edge show in his tone.
Jeremy groans. "Why is it so hard to talk to you these days?"
"That's pushing it."
"No- fuck off- you just did it again. It's like you're avoiding saying anything that actually means something."
"What do you want me to say?" Michael asks desperately.
"I don't know, just be normal!" Jeremy's eyes cast about as if searching for remnants of what used to be them.
"I'm fucking trying!" Michael's scar says not normal. That's why it's still in his damn pocket.
Jeremy growls out, "Not very hard."
Michael crosses his arms, wishing Jeremy didn't have the height advantage as he stands up. "Are you kidding me right now? After all that shit you expect me to just be normal?" That wasn't fair. Michael expects himself to be normal; he can't condemn Jeremy for it.
Still, Jeremy draws back. "Than talk to me so we can get over it already!" Jeremy yells. Then he pales- "Sorry- I didn't mean it like-"
"I'm going." Michael hisses through the lump in his throat.
Jeremy's laugh is harsh with disbelief. "It's your own fucking house!"
"Don't fucking talk to me!" Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
Michael doesn't understand anything he's thinking or feeling right now. He needs a hot second to sort it out. Maybe more than a second.
Maybe he needs a break.
"Fine!" Jeremy hollers up the stairs after him, the anger in his voice nipping at Michael's heels.
"Fine!" Michael shouts back. He slams the door behind him.
Jeremy
Michael's being stupid, Jeremy tells himself, curling up tightly on his own couch. Why couldn't he just show me his hand?
Jeremy stares glumly at his phone, playing a boring game absentmindedly, and missing the rush of togetherness that a two-player game gives him. He can answer that question for himself, really. Michael doesn't trust him.
The worst part is that Michael definitely meant it when he said he was trying. Try harder, Jeremy wants to yell. Please.
His avatar falls into a lake. It can swim. Jeremy just lets it drown.
He doesn't deserve it, and he knows it. And it isn't fair to ask Michael to get over it, but Jeremy wants is so badly.
"Jeremy?"
Fuck off. The last thing Jeremy needs is to start talking to his dad- again- about wearing pants. Today is groceries day and his dad has been wearing nothing but underwear for the past few days.
"Going to- are you okay?"
"Fine."
"Don't look fine." Jeremy's dad squirms awkwardly and Jeremy blinks. Since when does his dad care?
"Don't trust my word?" Jeremy freezes as soon as he asks, and Jeremy's dad only shrugs, oblivious to Jeremy's internal crisis.
Jeremy hurries out before he gets a response, scrambling into bed with the urge to hug a pillow. Maybe cry.
"Get out of my head," he whispers to Michael, knowing full well it's his own fault for thinking so much about the boy in the red sweatshirt.
Fuck Michael. Michael and his fucking smile and his fucking fuck off and his fucking hand and his that's pushing it. Fuck him.
Wouldn't you like to, a part of his brain giggles shyly and Jeremy growls, flinging his pillow across the room. "No, I would not," he mutters. It's not fair. He's not being fair.
Michael's being stupid. Jeremy thinks it again and again, just like the SQUIP taught him, until he believes it.
Michael's more trouble than he's worth, Jeremy insists.
Part of him knows that Michael is worth everything. Anything. The world, the universe. That Jeremy is turning a blind eye to his problems because he doesn't know how to solve them. That Jeremy cares about Michael more than he'd like to admit, in ways he'd never ever admit.
He ignores those parts of him. Because they're wrong about me, he tells himself.
No, they reply, because they scare you.
Michael
Stupid, Michael curses himself, stupid, stupid, stupid.
He could've asked for more time to figure out how he felt about- well- everything. About their friendship and their new obstacles. Instead he lashed out and Jeremy lashed out right back.
Michael was being a dick, but it still hurt. And part of Michael hoped Jeremy would stick it out. Deal with the worst parts of Michael because Michael is worth it.
He keeps forgetting: he isn't. Not to Jeremy. Michael loves the way he is, he does. He also knows that people like different things, and when Michael thinks he's enough for himself, he's not holding himself to Jeremy's standards. He sees that now.
But he's not going to be a different Michael. Jeremy can go suck a dick. (Michael's volunteering.)
Jeremy is worth almost everything, but in all honesty, Michael would rather be his own person than someone else's dream guy.
Nope. The pep talk isn't working. He flops onto the sofa. Maybe he should try to be a better person. Like, not-yelling-at-your-best-friend better.
Ping! There's this guy that sits at the next table over, and sometimes Michael walks to him- Julio.
Julio: It came! It came! It came!
Michael's eyes widen, already feeling a bit better- this is a perfect distraction.
Michael: Can i play w u
Julio: sure dude 4 player
Michael: rad
Julio: lit
Michael might have to start making new friends, because he gets the sinking feeling Jeremy doesn't want to be his friend anymore.
He really hopes he's wrong.
