Chapter Text
“Don’t hit so hard, bruhddy; you’re gonna puke again.”
Halloween is one of Jeremy’s favorite holidays, his seventeenth being no exception. He takes a deep inhale from Michael’s tie-dye patterned bong, breathing in the sick-sweet smoke and exhaling it into Michael’s face. “No, no, I’ve got th-” He’s struck by a coughing fit, loud and raspy, and he’s half afraid he’ll take ‘hacking up a lung’ to a literal level; desperately, he shoves the bong at Michael, who takes it, then pats him on the back.
“You alright, Jeremy?” he asks, and his voice is a little rough and strained, but not to the extent that Jeremy’s is.
Eyes squeezed shut and pricked by stinging tears, Jeremy nods and croaks, “Yeah, I’m good, I’m good.” He’s not sure why he agrees to smoke with Michael so often, given that his lungs die a little every time, but it’s pretty relaxing- so relaxing, in fact, that he has to ask, “Hey, Michael? I’m kinda tired. Can I just watch while you play?”
Michael’s hooked up his old PlayStation to the TV in his basement, and they’d paused in the middle of a match in their favorite fighting game to let Jeremy take a hit. “You sure?” he asks. “You’re gonna get bored, or forget that you’re not playing it and try to use your controller.”
“Hey, I’ve only done that once!”
“Yeah, try five times,” Michael says, and snorts. “Anyway, I can’t stop you. Wanna watch me do story mode? I’ve been meaning to replay it.”
Jeremy nods, dropping the controller, and Michael puts the match to a premature end, going back to the main menu and navigating to story mode. Jeremy, meanwhile, shifts his beanbag over so it presses against Michael’s; then, inhibitions muted by the high, curls into a fetal position and leans against him- no, it’s more like he snuggles up to him. Sue him, it’s comfortable.
If Michael is bothered by the situation, he doesn’t give any indication. It’s odd- Jeremy was half expecting him to pull away, to be disgusted, although the worries faded away quickly in the weed-induced haze. On the contrary, Michael is actually relaxing under Jeremy’s touch as he routinely gets his ass kicked by the CPU. “Ah, hell,” he mumbles from time to time. “This game sucks.”
Jeremy cracks open one eye, a light smile crossing his face. “Don’t hate the game, man. You’re just high.”
There’s a pause, and Jeremy can practically see the gears turning in Michael’s head. “Yeah, but like… I should still be able to beat it…” He shrugs. “Eh, whatever.” After a few more minutes, he grabs the remote and turns off the TV, then flops back down onto his beanbag and sighs.
Startled by the shift in positions, Jeremy opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with Michael. He swallows sharply.
Michael stares at him, an unreadable look in his dark brown eyes, then cracks a smile. “What’s wrong? Did you get spooked?”
“No,” Jeremy replies simply. There’s no hurry in his voice. “No, I’m good.”
“Okay. ...If you wanna stop smoking and just go to bed, that’s alright.”
“No,” Jeremy says again.
“Okay.”
They lie like that for a few minutes, staring hazily at each other between long blinks, before Jeremy opens his mouth to speak again. “Michael, I-”
He’s cut off by a yawn from Michael, who stands up and stretches his arms until something cracks. “I’m actually, like, really sleepy. Let’s go to bed.”
Jeremy swallows again, heart sinking. It wasn’t his plan to confess tonight, but he’d been overcome by the urge to, and he’d gotten rejected before he could even get the words out. Was that a rejection? It sure felt like one.
“...Jeremy?” Michael asks, waving a hand in front of Jeremy’s face. “My buddy? My man?”
Jeremy slaps Michael’s hand weakly away from his face. “Sorry. Zoned out. Still faded.”
“Me too.” Michael sticks out his hand, waggling his fingers in a beckoning gesture. “C’mere.”
Jeremy takes Michael’s hand and lets him pull him up, then brushes potato chip crumbs from his shirt. Their hands linger in each other’s for a moment- but only a moment.
Then, finally, they go to bed.
“You really wanna get going, huh?”
Jeremy runs his hand through his hair over and over, still filled to the brim with nervous energy. He’s vibrating with it, and Michael certainly notices. “Oh! Yeah, that’d be great, thanks. We’re only, like, five hours from home, right?”
As Michael crawls over the central console into the driver’s seat, he answers, “Yeah, so we’ll get there at around 4:30 if we stop somewhere for lunch.”
Jeremy nods, tapping his feet on the floor as he bounces his legs, then says, “I just miss Dad and Florence, is all.”
Michael pulls away from where he’d parked on the side of a country road, then says, “I get it, man. I miss the hell out of my moms and cats. But, look on the bright side- we’ll be there in just a few hours.”
With a pang of guilt, it occurs to Jeremy that he’d completely forgotten that Michael would miss his home, too. “Yeah, that’s true. Sorry, I’m being kinda whiny.” He’s been texting his dad, after all, and getting twice-daily pictures of his cat.
“Nah, dude, ‘s all good,” Michael says with a shrug. “I think my problem is that I don’t whine enough.”
“You’re a pretty chill guy. I think you sucked up all the chill from both of us like a laid-back vampire.”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you love vampires.”
“They’re cool!” Jeremy protests. “The fangs? Killer. Uh, literally.”
“Werewolves are better.”
“Anyway,” Jeremy says, “I hope my dad’s doing alright. He gets lonely really easily… I wonder if he misses us.”
“First of all, of course he misses us, especially you,” Michael says. “Secondly, I think that runs in the family a little.”
“Will you stop calling me out?” Jeremy says, and would reach out to swat Michael in the arm if he were slightly more of an idiot. He’s not mad, though, at the accusation- because it’s true- and the two fill the car with laughter and teasing until around noon, when Jeremy points out that they haven’t had anything to eat all day.
“There’s a Pizza Hut off the next exit,” Michael says after glancing at the sign on the side of the road. “You want some? We can eat on the road, if you want.”
“Hey, man, I’ll never say no to pizza.”
The clock on the dashboard turns to 4:12 P.M.
Michael turns the Cruiser onto Jeremy’s street.
The nervous energy bubbles up again in Jeremy’s chest, pricking like static electricity; he leans forward in his seat, trying to see past the bend in the road, and finally catches sight of his house. It’s a little shoddy, rough around the edges, but it’s home.
Michael glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Damn, you weren’t lying about being excited,” he says with a laugh.
“Man, I miss my bed!” Jeremy says. “I know I talked a lot about Dad and Florence, but dude, I haven’t slept in a proper bed in days.”
“Yeah, no kidding. My back is killing me.”
Jeremy doesn’t reply to that, because, as Michael says it, he pulls into the Heeres’ driveway, and Jeremy’s already pawing at the buckle of his seat belt. He can see his father through the living room window, and, as the car pulls in, he turns, face brightening ito a smile when he sees his son. Michael puts the car in park, and Jeremy hops out, opening his arms for a hug as his father comes out to greet him. “Dad!” he says. “Dad, hey!”
“Jeremy! Michael!” Jeremy’s father scoops him into a bear hug, dwarfing his slim beanpole of a son. “It’s good to have you boys back.”
“We’ve only been out for, like, half a minute,” Jeremy teases when he can breathe again. “How would you know?”
Michael, who had silently gotten out of the car, flicks Jeremy in the temple and says, “Stop being awful.” To Jeremy’s father, he adds, “Good to be back, sir.”
Jeremy’s father rolls his eyes. “Michael, I’ve known you for, what, almost fourteen years? You can stop calling me ‘sir’ now.”
Michael shrugs. “I like to have respect for my elders, unlike someone here.” He turns to the trunk and makes a move to head over, but Jeremy's father puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him before he can.
“You must be tired from driving this whole time. Let me carry your suitcase in.”
Michael sighs in relief. “Oh, man, thank you. I don’t even wanna look at that car anymore.”
“You said you like driving!” Jeremy says. “Sorry for being a hassle…”
“I mean, I like it, but doing it for four days straight isn’t as fun as it might sound. Worth it, though.” Michael slings an arm around Jeremy’s shoulder and pulls him in close.
Jeremy laughs, stomach tickled by the light sensation of butterflies that always flares up when Michael touches him. “Well, thanks, man. I couldn’t have done it without you. Like, literally, I can’t drive.”
“Hey, you managed for a little while,” Michael says, and lets Jeremy go so he can grab his suitcase.
“Wait, Jeremy, you drove?” Jeremy’s father raises his eyebrows.
Jeremy laughs weakly. “Yeah, uh… Michael ate some bad sushi from a gas station and got food poisoning, so I had to drive him to Walgreens so he wouldn’t puke all over.”
“He made me throw out my favorite pair of shoes!”
Jeremy’s father grimaces. “Sounds brutal. At least you didn’t get in a crash, though.” He smiles widely at Jeremy. “I’m proud of you.”
Jeremy’s flattered, but a bit embarrassed at the praise, so he hides his face by opening the passenger’s side door and grabbing his backpack. “Thanks,” he says simply.
There’s quiet, then, as Jeremy’s father retreats into the house with Michael’s suitcase. “So, how’re we gonna tell him about… y’know, us?” Jeremy asks. The happiness is beginning to wane, and he’s slipping into nervous territory, which can be a catastrophic place to be. He’d been so excited to break the news, but now that he’s faced with the opportunity, he’s frozen up.
“We could be casual about it,” Michael says. “Y’know, kiss or something, then wait for him to ask about it.”
Jeremy only considers it for half a second before he says, “No way. I’m not kissing in front of my dad.” Too bold by far- plus, he’s never been one for confessions, good or bad. They make his skin crawl 90% of the time. “I dunno, maybe you could tell him.”
“I could do that, but only if you’re sure. If you change your mind, let me know, alright?” Michael asks.
Jeremy answers with a nod and says, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I already have to talk to him about Cheryl; I don’t wanna do all the work, y’know? Plus, you’re, like, freakishly good at lightening the mood.”
Michael discreetly pumps his fist and grins at Jeremy. “I do my best, man. If I didn’t, I think both of us would have gone insane by now. If I’m not dancing and making stupid jokes all the time, I will be consumed by the void.”
Jeremy rubs Michael’s shoulder, and there are no butterflies this time. “Yeah, man, I get it.” The two of them are silent for a moment before Jeremy says, “We should head inside.”
“Right, yeah,” Michael says, and Jeremy goes to grab his suitcase, backpack already slung onto one shoulder.
It feels like he’s been gone for way more than ten days, Jeremy muses as he touches the mezuzah and steps into the foyer. Still, once he kicks off his shoes and walks into the kitchen, the tension starts to seep off of him; it’s good to have familiar surroundings again. Normally, he would go to find Florence and take her downstairs for a cuddle sesh, but there are more important thing to do right now.
His father’s cheerfulness is slipping a little, and there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes as he pulls out chairs at the kitchen table for the three of them. “So,” he says, “tell me everything.”
Michael excuses himself with a quick, “Uh, I’m gonna go find Florence,” and heads for the living room. It’s not as if he was iced out, but it’s a very Heere issue, so Jeremy can understand why he’s eager to leave.
“I, uh… I guess you’ll wanna hear about the big stuff first, huh,” Jeremy says, voice small in the even-smaller kitchen. He squirms in his seat- he really should’ve come up with a script for this.
His father nods. “I think I should probably know. And… it looks like it didn’t come to a very satisfactory ending.”
Jeremy thinks on that for a long moment. Was it satisfactory? Sort of. He hates to admit it, but he liked the anger and hurt in his mother’s voice. Whether he liked it or not, though, it’s something that had to happen. He’s not stupid. He knows his family’s brokenness is permanent, unmendable. “...I mean, it was alright, but I don’t…” He sighs. “I don’t think she’ll be contacting us again, um, ever.”
Jeremy’s father is silent for a while- a long, long while. Then, he nods and says, “I understand. I shouldn’t have expected anything more from her.” He looks down at his clasped hands for a second, then adds, “Are you alright? What happened?”
Jeremy explains everything: the way Cheryl lives now, how he came out to her and she accepted him, how civil she was at first, how she named her cat named after him. And then… the fight. Her hand on his arm. Her shouting at him and making excuses and trying to deny all the harm she’d caused the two of them over the years. “I don’t think you’re missing out on anything,” he finishes. “She’s… not good. I don’t know if she’s a good person. I don’t think so.”
The sadness in his father’s eyes is crushing. “I see,” he says, words simple despite all the things that must be running through his mind. “Well, it’s not as if she was going to speak to me anyway. Actually, I’m proud of you, Jeremy.” He reaches out to place a hand over one of Jeremy’s.
Jeremy boinks, taken aback. “Proud? But… I ruined your chances of ever talking to her again.”
“Maybe so,” his father says, “but I don’t think I want to after the way she treated you. Nobody who hurts you is worth keeping in my life.”
Jeremy doesn’t quite know what to say to that. It hurts his heart, but in a good way; maybe he is loved more than he thinks. His father was heinously depressed- he took showers, what, once a week? He could barely muster the strength to get dressed, and yet here he was, swearing off his ex-wife in his son’s name. “Thank you,” Jeremy says, guessing at a proper response. “For being understanding, and stuff. I’m sorry.”
His father shakes his head. “Don’t be. You’re right; it’s probably better for me that she’s not around. Better for both of us.”
That brings a relieved smile to Jeremy’s face. “Right. Yeah. You’re right.” He knows this is going to be harder on his father than he says. He knows he might slip into his old depression, maybe not as far, but into it all the same. But he also knows that everything might- no, will- be alright. After all, he’s been there for Jeremy as much as possible through his own depression, through every ounce of bitterness he threw at him and the rest of the world. He’ll bounce back. Jeremy can always trust his father.
There’s silence for a couple more minutes before Michael steps back into the kitchen. He must’ve been waiting for their conversation to end- it couldn’t have taken him that long to find Florence, who’s usually curled up in the sun by the sliding glass back door. “Hey, guys,” he says, slightly subdued, but still having the uncanny ability to brighten whatever room he walks into. “I got our favorite princess!” He holds Florence up to the sky, and she kicks her little legs in distaste.
Jeremy grins and stands up to take the cat from Michael, and she’s clearly delighted to see him; she purrs that sound-barrier-breaking purr of hers and rubs her forehead against his chin before settling into his arms. “Florence!” Jeremy croons. “How’ve you been, baby?” The cat answers with a loud chirp, and Jeremy laughs to himself before pressing a kiss to her furry, blue-grey forehead.
“We have some good news, too, Mr. Heere,” Michael says, and Jeremy turns to face his father and friend- well, boyfriend. His smile goes wobbly at that thought.
Jeremy's father raises his eyebrows, a smile returning to his face. “Oh?”
“Yeah, uh…” Jeremy chuckles shakily. “Michael and I are, um…”
“We’re dating, Mr. Heere,” Michael finishes for him. “We’re gay and we’re boyfriends and we’re in love. I’m your son now. Congrats!”
As Jeremy chuckles at Michael’s bluntness, the smile on his father’s face turns into a grin. “Oh, my God, that’s amazing!” he says, and gets up to hug Michael tight, then Jeremy. Florence squeaks as she’s squished between the two of them. “Jeremy’s been gushing about you for a whole year and a half now. I was wondering when you two were going to do something about it. You think I didn’t notice the way you act around each other?”
Jeremy goes red at that, and he’s almost shocked to see that Michael does, too. “Was I really that obvious?” Michael asks. “I thought maybe I was being subtle.”
Jeremy’s father shakes his head. “Michael, you’re like a second son to me; of course I realized when you started putting the moves on Jeremy.”
Michael pauses, thinking for a second. “...Was I good at it?”
With another shake of his head, Jeremy’s father says, “I don’t think your cheesy pickup lines work very well on him.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jeremy says. “You were actually hitting on me with that stuff? ‘The library self-service machines aren’t working, but I’m still checking you out?’ I thought you were just kidding around.”
“I don’t know! I thought it would work,” Michael says, shuffling his feet. “But you seemed to think it was funny.”
“Oh, my God, and I told you to send them to that guy you followed last year because he was hot. You were hitting on me and I told you to say it to another guy.”
“There’s a reason your blog title is ‘Useless Bisexual’,” Michael points out.
Before Jeremy can tease Michael back, as teenage best-friends-turned-boyfriends do pretty much all the time, Jeremy’s father, says, “This is incredible, you two! We have to celebrate this, right?”
Oh, wow. That certainly wasn’t what Jeremy had expected. Shyly, he says, “I guess we can. What did you have in mind for, um, celebrating?”
“Well… your birthday is in a few weeks,” his father says. “I should get to work practicing my baking skills. Those ice cream cakes from Dairy Queen are a little expensive.”
Jeremy laughs a little at that. “Dad, you don’t have to bake us a cake just because-”
“Don’t listen to him, Mr. Heere,” Michael interrupts. “I, for one, would absolutely love a cake right about now.”
“I’m on it,” Jeremy’s father says, saluting as if he’s in the military instead of working at home as a customer service rep, and edges past the two of them to the cupboard. After a couple seconds, he turns back around and gestures for Jeremy and Michael to come over. “Well?”
The two boys look at each other for a couple seconds before it occurs to Jeremy what his father wants, and he grins. “Oh! Yeah, of course we’ll help.” (Jeremy is fully aware that Michael would kick his ass at baking a cake any day, but this isn’t a competition.)
In a few minutes, the counter is covered with foodstuffs and plastic cups and Jeremy’s father’s recipe book, and, as Jeremy’s father goes to preheat the oven, Michael taps Jeremy on the shoulder and threads his fingers through the spaces between his. “Hey, Jeremy?” he asks, quietly, so that Jeremy’s father can’t hear them. “Is everything alright now?”
Jeremy remains silent. He thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks. He thinks for a long, long time. His mother is out of his life, sliced clean off as if he were a surgeon performing a lumpectomy. The anger that he felt, the scorching bitterness, is still there, but it’s lifting with every minute, and maybe by the time he’s ready to start a family, he can atone for the things his mother passed onto him. He’s burned a bridge, and that fire still sears his chest, and he knows that it’ll probably keep him up at night and that he’ll probably have some regrets and that maybe, maybe, when he’s much older, he’ll miss his mother. He won’t be inviting her to his college graduation or to his wedding. He won’t invite her to his children’s birthday parties.
But he’s satisfied.
Jeremy doesn’t need a mother. He doesn’t need someone who berates him, who mistreats him and his father, who refuses to acknowledge the pain that courses through him every day like an injection from the needle of his ruined, rocky childhood. That’s the simple truth of it: he doesn’t need her. He has a fantastic father who loves every inch of his mentally screwed, socially inept, painfully bisexual son; he has a best friend- his boyfriend, now- who’s been with him for a long, long time and will probably be with him for the rest of his life; he has a cat who yells at him to hold her and makes him sneeze with her soft fur; and they all love him dearly, and that makes up for it. That could make up for anything.
So, yeah, everything’s alright. Jeremy’s all kinds of messed up, but he’ll get through it, because he’s in charge of his own life now, and nothing about his past is going to hold him back, ‘cuz he’s not gonna let it.
“Yeah,” he says, squeezing Michael’s hand, “everything’s alright now.”