Chapter Text
When Jeremy and Christine made it official last November, Michael gave it four months, tops.
“I really wanna put together something nice and meaningful for her, but I’m broke right now,” Jeremy was lamenting to him one early October morning, eyes glued to Michael’s TV. “I don’t get paid ‘til next Friday.”
Michael exhaled slowly, declining to mention how Jeremy literally just blew half his last C-Town paycheck on the very same copy of Pac-Man Championship Edition 2 they were playing right then. “Good thing your anniversary isn't for another month.”
“That’s the problem!” Jeremy said, flicking around his controller’s joystick like he was trying to churn butter with it. His sprite dodged the orange ghost at the last second. “I waited too long to get her something really good. I went online the other day to look for Dear Evan Hansen tickets - that’s the show she’s been talking about nonstop for, like, three weeks - but it’s sold out through January.”
“That’s rough, bro.” Michael pressed B a couple times, and his sprite got a power-up. “Anything else good on Broadway she’d wanna see?”
“I mean, maybe. But if it’s not a show she’s super pumped about, it’s probably not worth the drive.”
Michael thought for a minute over the backdrop of the game’s charming 8-bit music and their clicking controller buttons. “You can do a nice printed photo collage, I’ve seen some people do that,” he offered up, glancing at Jeremy to his right. “Or one of those town-wide scavenger hunts.”
“Eh, that’s more of a promposal type of thing,” Jeremy countered, not unkindly. “Plus, I want it to be unique to her.”
“Fair enough. Well hey, I know you’ll think of something, man.”
They sat in their beanbag chairs playing in silence for a little while, Michael’s stomach tying itself into little tiny knots in the meantime. He couldn’t help but sense that something had changed between them ever since senior year started. He and Jeremy were still best friends (duh), but there was just a different vibe between them lately that Michael couldn’t quite put his finger on. Silences like this used to be totally comfortable, for example. Now it’s a little awkward, like they should be talking about the game they’re playing or school or something. Maybe it’s just the whirlwind of senior year activity, or the stress of college applications, or Jeremy’s new job, or...something. But Michael couldn’t help but to fear the worst.
Oh come on, dude, you know Jeremy still loves you, Michael had to tell himself more and more lately. You’re his favorite person. He’s said so a thousand times. It’s all good. You’re just over-analyzing again.
“I’m starting to overanalyze again.”
Dr. Fields leans forward in her chair, eyebrows raised inquisitively. “About what?”
“Uh...about a lot of stuff, I guess, but...mostly about Jeremy,” Michael admitted.
“M-hm.” Dr. Fields drummed her fingers on the little circular coffee table between them. Her office was bright and spacious, lots of natural sunlight streaming in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows across the room. “Did something happen?”
Michael shook his head. “Not that I can think of. It’s just...I don’t know if it’s just in my head or something, but...I feel like we’re maybe growing apart a little bit?”
“Growing apart,” Dr. Fields repeated thoughtfully, and Michael nodded back at her. Dr. Fields had been Michael’s social anxiety therapist ever since she diagnosed him in eighth grade. She seemed to be on the younger side for someone with their doctorate degree, her big natural curls dyed pastel blue at the ends, and Michael had always appreciated her ability to relate to him as a young person. Before his very first visit way back when, he was terrified of being saddled with a crotchety old Freud-type guy, who would sit back in his armchair with a clipboard and grill Michael with deep questions he didn’t know the answers to. Dr. Fields (or Andrea, as he was welcome to call her, but he usually just stuck with Dr. Fields or the ever-casual Doc) was a far cry from Michael’s loosely-grounded expectation, in the best way. “How so?”
“Well, we’ve been hanging out less these past few weeks, and he’s spending more time with Christine.” Michael didn’t have to clarify who Christine was - he’s told Dr. Fields so much about Jeremy over the years that she could probably pick him out of a lineup by now. “I don’t know, it just kinda seems like...like he’s getting bored of me, in a way.”
“I’m sorry, Michael. I know how upsetting that must be,” she said gently. “If I may ask...did you consider doing what we talked about last week?”
He felt his nerves kick in again, his mind going back to earlier that day. “Uh...I did, actually,” he told her, and her face brightened with pride. “And I actually got really close to telling him. But...”
After planning and re-planning out what he was going to say, Michael decided to finally break the silence after a while. “Do the controls feel kinda finicky to you?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed. “I don’t know if I like the whole increased immunity thing with the ghosts, either. It defeats the whole purpose of the original, you know?”
“Exactly!” Michael exclaimed a little too eagerly, cringing as soon as he said it. “I mean, yeah, exactly. Can’t believe you spent thirty-five bucks on this thing.”
Jeremy took one hand off his controller to smack Michael lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, lay off, asswipe. You were the one who wanted to play it so bad in the first place!”
“And you were the one gullible enough to buy it anyway.”
They both chuckled, falling back into a slightly more comfortable silence than before.
Now’s the time, Michael thought.
It was something he’d actually planned to do last year, right before the whole SQUIP fiasco ruined his timing. He had been wanting to come out for a while prior to that, but the thought of telling his parents he was gay scared the shit out of him. Since the thought of coming out to Jeremy scared a little less of the shit out of him, he decided to tell Jeremy first as a sort of trial run before telling his parents. And right when he was all ready to do it, bam, Jeremy started dating Christine. Michael didn’t want to dampen their honeymoon phase with the heavy confession (even though he knew Jeremy wouldn’t even bat an eyelash), and stuff kept getting in the way, and he kept putting it off and off and off until he realized if he didn’t ‘fess up soon, he’d be dampening their anniversary mood.
Funny how shit comes full circle like that.
So with Dr. Field’s seal of approval, he made up his mind that once and for all, anxiety be damned, he would tell Jeremy today, right now.
He took a deep breath, heart pounding in his throat. “Hey man, can I talk to you about something?”
Jeremy must have sensed the tension in Michael’s voice, because he pressed pause on his controller and set it down to give Michael his full attention. “Yeah dude, what’s up?”
Michael put his own controller down and stared back at Jeremy for a second. “Um…” Go. Now. Starter pistol firing. Spit it out. “I-”
“PARA BAILAR LA BAMBA!”
As if divinely summoned, the ringtone Michael set on Jeremy’s phone as a joke last week started blaring from his pocket.
“Oh my God sorry sorry sorry sorry” Jeremy apologized profusely, finagling the phone out of his pocket at lightning speed and looking at the Caller ID. Michael peeked over at the screen and saw it was Christine. Of course.
If this were under any other circumstances, Michael would be trapped in a laughing fit right now, but he was anything but amused. He was starting to think that the universe wanted him to stay in the closet forever. “You can take that if you want, dude.”
“No, you were saying something,” said Jeremy, but he didn’t decline the call, Valens Richie’s velvety-smooth Spanish continuing to cloud Michael’s brain.
“It’s fine, just answer it,” he insisted weakly, and Jeremy nodded reluctantly and pressed ‘accept,’ holding the phone up to his ear.
“Hi, love,” he said, his voice taking on a sweetness that made Michael’s pulse pick up just a bit. He grabbed his own phone and started scrolling through Twitter to pass the time. “Nothing much, just hanging with Michael.”
Michael flashed him a peace sign without looking up from his phone.
“Christine says hi,” Jeremy told him aside.
“Hey, Christine. Ask her how the script’s coming.”
Christine must’ve heard him, because the voice coming out of Jeremy’s receiver got even more shrill than before, if possible. “She wants to talk to you about it,” Jeremy explained with a smile, handing the phone to Michael.
Michael took it and put it to his ear. “Okay Tina, lay it on me. What happens with Rapscallion in scene six?”
“Oh em gee, you’re gonna die when I tell you!” Christine nearly screamed at him. “You know that plot hole with Rap’s mom and how she managed to escape the island? Well, I fixed it, and bonus: it actually ended up turning Molfrey’s identity into a surprise reveal in scene eight! Isn’t that so rad?!”
“The raddest,” Michael affirmed with a smile, looking at Jeremy. He was beaming, cheeks flushed a little. This was a relatively new face in Jeremy’s expression lexicon; he only started grinning like that once he and Christine got together. “I can’t wait to read the whole thing when you’re done.”
Christine giggled into the speaker. “Aww, thanks, Michael! You’ll be the first person I come to for rough draft suggestions!”
“I’m honored.” He pushed his glasses up and handed the phone back to Jeremy, half-tuning into the rest of their conversation as he returned to the Twitter drama currently unfolding on his timeline. He couldn’t deny that she and Jeremy were a good match. She encouraged his creative side, and he kept her grounded.
“...I kinda got interrupted. By Christine, of all people.”
Dr. Fields laughed a little. “Oh, boy. Isn’t the universe so funny that way?”
“That’s what I said!” Michael supposed it was kinda funny now that he was talking about it out loud. “But it still ticked me off a little. Like, that was the perfect time, and I’ve been procrastinating on it forever…”
“You weren’t procrastinating,” Dr. Fields told him. “Coming out to Jeremy isn’t a homework assignment. It’s not something you’re obligated to do. It’s just something you feel will benefit your relationship with your own identity and your relationship with him, right?” Michael nodded in agreement. “So there’s no need to feel bad about not doing it yet. Don’t beat yourself up. This stuff is difficult, okay? You’re doing just fine.”
That made him feel a little better, but he was still disgruntled about the whole thing. “I mean, Jesus, if it’s been this hard telling him I’m gay, how am I gonna tell him I -” He declined to finish that thought, trailing off.
Dr. Fields understood him perfectly. “Again, not something you’re obligated to tell him.”
“I know, I know, but I want to. Eventually. Definitely not now, though.” Michael sighed, prompted to continue by Dr. Fields’ expectant gaze. “I’ll probably wait till after they break up. That’ll make things less weird.”
“You might be right about that,” she concurred.
God, he really did enjoy going to therapy. It was nice to spill all your secrets to someone who was legally bound to keep them that way.
He thought for a little bit about everything, and a pang of sadness hit him.“I just...it sucks, you know? Seeing him in such a happy relationship. I’m glad for him and everything, obviously, but it just...really, really sucks.” Michael felt the back of his throat get tight, and he grabbed a tissue from the coffee table just in case. “Jesus, even his dad knows! Did I ever tell you that?” Dr. Fields shook her head, surprised. “And now that it seems like he’s getting bored of me, I feel even more pathetic. He’ll think I’m coming out to him as some desperate ploy to get him to keep hanging out with me." He knew that his anxiety was piloting his train of thought right now, but he didn't care. "And the worst part is, if he leaves me behind, I barely have any other friends at all to hang out with. At least none that I trust anywhere as much as him. How sad is that?”
Dr. Fields looked at him for a long, hard while. “Not sad at all,” she said finally. “Not sad at all. All you’re doing is seeking the most basic kind of validation: validation from your loved ones. That's nothing to be ashamed of. And your orientation is not and never will be a ‘ploy,’ understand? Even if Jeremy interprets your coming-out like that, which you know he won’t, it has nothing to do with him or how he’s been treating you lately. You’ve been gay for far longer than this little rough patch, right?”
Michael sniffled, bringing the tissue to his nose. “Right.”
“And that’s all it is: a rough patch. Every friendship has its own natural peaks and valleys that they go through over time. Wouldn’t you consider that mess with the computers a valley in your relationship?” Michael had explained the SQUIP incident to her, and while he wasn’t 100% sure she believed him, it certainly proved useful to reference in their sessions.
“Yeah, I guess it was.”
“And you guys bounced back from it, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“So just think of this as another valley. It’s a natural part of long-term friendships, even the strongest of bonds. You two are going to be fine. And I’m proud of you for almost telling him today,” she continued with a coy smile. “Pardon my French, but that probably took a lot of balls.”
Michael laughed, wiping his eyes. “It sure did. Thanks, Doc.”
“My pleasure. Remember: peaks and valleys. Think about that this week.”
As he said goodbye to Dr. Fields and left the psychiatry office, he hoped that she was right, for all their sakes.