Chapter Text
"Can I ask you a question, Jer-Bear?"
Jeremy, ignoring the stupid nickname Rich has pegged on him since the two started working together, nods before picking up his Dr. Pepper.
"What's Michael's dick like?"
Jeremy gasps and ends up choking as the fizzy liquid catches against his throat before spilling down the wrong pipe. He cups a hand over his mouth and coughs, face growing hot and red, whether that be from the lack of oxygen or embarrassment, he's not sure.
"W-what?" He sputters out in between weaker coughs.
Rich tilts his head slightly in question. "You two are dating, aren't you?"
"No!" Jeremy shouts, slamming one palm down against the small plastic break room table. "Why do you think that?"
"Jenna told Chloe, who told Brooke, that she saw you two holding hands last weekend."
Rich's words take a moment to process within Jeremy's racing mind, but then like gears suddenly clicking into place, his mind opens like a wide set of double doors, revealing the one flaw in Rich's statement.
"You do realize what you just said right?"
"Yes?" Rich says, tone sliding upward in question.
Jeremy sighs. "Jenna?" When Rich still doesn't catch on, Jeremy flops back against his chair and crosses his arms with a low huff. "Jenna Rolan said this. You can't believe a word that comes out of her mouth."
Rich hums in understanding. "I know," he starts while half-standing from his creaky plastic chair to fish his phone from his pocket. "She spreads rumors faster than a horny bastard spreads-"
"Okay," Jeremy interrupts loudly with one hand held out in front of him. "I don't need the image in my head." He watches Rich thumb absently through his phone with furrowed brows. "What are you doing?"
"Jenna may spread rumors, but she's also got the newest iPhone."
Jeremy is just in the middle of trying to decipher Rich's cryptic words when Rich suddenly slides his phone across the small table until it stops right before Jeremy.
Glancing down at the small device, Jeremy's eyes go wide. On the screen, there's a very clear picture of him and Michael standing in the game store. He's got one hand clasped in Michael's while the other is holding a Nintendo game high above Michael's head. Their faces are bright, and large smiles are painted across their lips.
"This is not what it looks like," Jeremy starts slowly, a clear contrast to his heart hammering against his chest.
Rich's mouth slides up into a smile, and he arches one brow. "No? I mean the new iPhone camera is really good, and what's that saying? A picture's worth a thousand words?"
"This is stalking," Jeremy mutters under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest as if to shield himself from Rich's devious stare. "We were just messing around."
And they had been. Jeremy can remember the day perfectly. A new Nintendo game came out, and Michael was beyond excited, so much that he almost knocked an elderly couple over while trying to race into the game store in the mall. Jeremy used his long legs to bypass Michael and snatch the game up, waving the box high above Michael's head in a teasing manner. There was a lot of play fighting before Michael promptly threatened to rip his balls off, and Jeremy had flinched at the underlining force behind Michael's tone and had given the game to Michael moments later.
"You two look awfully happy."
"Because we're best friends!"
Rich shakes his head, light laugh slipping past his pressed lips. "Why are you denying this, Jeremy?"
The lack of nickname tells Jeremy that Rich, while smiling, is being frighteningly serious, so he opts to do the same. He leans forward, as close as he can get to Rich with the table resting between them. "Because I'm not gay, and neither is Michael."
Rich actually laughs at loud at this, a bellowing laugh that echoes uncomfortably against the plain white walls of the break room. "Really?" He questions through laughs, though there's an evident hint of disbelief in his tone. "I can't vouch for you, but Mell is as gay, if not gayer, than," he pauses, thinking. "Hell. Lance Bass."
"He's not," Jeremy presses, voice firm. If anyone would know, it would he him. He and Michael tell each other everything, literally everything.
"Ah, Jer-Bear," Rich says, leaning forward and resting his elbows atop the table. "That SQUIP fuck with your brain functions?"
Jeremy tenses at the mention of the SQUIP. For a moment, his mind is consumed with memories, voices, but he breathes out a shaky sigh while mentally shouting 'get a hold of yourself!'
It's been months since all of the shit went down with the SQUIP. There's got to be a time where he doesn't fall into a panic at any slight mention of the stupid pill.
"No," Jeremy snaps. "I just know Michael."
Rich tilts his head. "Do you? Do you know that the rainbow flag patch on his jacket signifies gay pride? Do you know that he spends his breaks looking up gay pride rally events on his phone?"
Jeremy's brows furrow, contrasting against his wide, trembling eyes. No, he thinks. No, he doesn't know any of that. But, why would Michael keep something like this from him? "I didn't know," he whispers, feeling betrayed, confused.
"So, I take it you also don't know that Michael totally has a thing for you?"
Jeremy shakes his head, lungs struggling against his racing heart. There's a small sliver of disbelief still lodged in a back corner of his mind, and he takes hold of it. "No, he doesn't," he mutters lowly.
Rich spits out a harsh laugh. "Do you even pay attention to everything he does for you? He gives you his jacket anytime your cold, he brings you food all the time, hell, he even wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive your sorry ass to work even though his shift doesn't start until later."
"Friends do things for friends," Jeremy counters weakly. Because, he thinks to himself, that's all it is, isn't it? He and Michael have an unspoken pact that they would do anything for each other, which is normal right?
"You don't see the way he looks at you, Jeremy."
Jeremy focuses on the lack of nickname once more. Rich's voice has gone soft, almost sympathetic, and Jeremy locks eyes with Rich's heavy-lidded ones. "I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to say."
Rich shrugs while absently picking at the remainder of his sandwich. He drops a piece of crust then balls up the scraps in the foil wrapper it came in. "You need to get your shit together, Heere. Because if you don't, I'm going to make a move on Mell."
The door opening behind the two has Jeremy jumping out of his seat. He snaps his gaze over his shoulder to see Michael standing in the door way.
Michael's wide smile falters when he takes in Jeremy's almost defensive stance. "Jeremy? What's wrong?"
Jeremy looks back to Rich, and Rich tilts his head to side, shooting a look that all but screams "I told you so."
"Nothing," Jeremy spits out, harsher than intended, before he gathers his lunch trash and shoves past Michael to get back to work.
"What-" Michael begins, words trailing off as his gaze shifts between Jeremy's fleeing form and Rich. Before he can finish his question, Rich stands and limps toward Michael. Michael frowns as Rich clasps a hand down onto his shoulder before limping off toward the customer service desk.
Confusion and panic unfold within Michael's chest in the form of a panging heart, but he shrugs it off, confident that Jeremy will tell him what's wrong. He turns toward the small lockers against the back wall of the break room and begins thumbing through numbers on his lock.
*****
Jeremy reaches in the box and grabs another jar of pasta sauce, shoving it onto the shelf. He repeats this motion, over and over and over while his thoughts drift toward more pressing matters.
Michael can't possibly be gay and like him. There's just no way. Hell, it's taken the two a full school semester to find their rhythm after the events involving the SQUIP. After he and Christine broke up over Christmas break, he and Michael spent the entire spring semester of their junior year dancing awkwardly around one another, but finally, they found the right tempo, and things shifted back to normal.
At least, Jeremy thought they were back to normal. But if Rich is right, then Michael's holding back on him, and for what reason? This wouldn't change things between them, would it? Even if Michael is gay, Jeremy knows that he, himself, is straight. He's spent the better half of a semester pining after a girl, and so what if he and Christine didn't click in the way he had hoped, that doesn't mean he isn't straight.
"If you squeeze that jar any harder, it's going to shatter."
Jeremy jumps and snaps his gaze toward the owner of the voice. He eyes Michael with furrowed brows before glancing down to his hand when Michael nods toward it.
His fingers are wrapped tightly around a jar of Alfredo sauce, so much that his knuckles have gone a frightening white. "Oh," he laughs awkwardly before loosening his grip and placing the jar on the shelf. He keeps his eyes glued to the rhythmic movement: box, jar, shelf, box, jar, shelf.
"Dude, what did Rich do? Do I need to kick his ass? I'm not above taking him down after work." Michael questions, voice light, almost teasing, but eyes a spitting definition of worry.
Jeremy breathes out a low sigh. He looks up and meets Michael's eyes. "Rich would knock you out in a second."
"Not with his lingering fire injuries," Michael points out, knowing full and well that Jeremy is deflecting something... But what?
Jeremy hums in agreement and drops his gaze toward the floor. He studies the scuff marks on his old, black converses while feeling Michael's gazing boring a hole into his face.
"Seriously, Jeremy. What's wrong?" Michael's voice holds a low vibrato. He's worried, confused; he feels as if he's in the dark, chasing after a small sliver of light that he can't seem to reach no matter how hard his legs pound forward.
It hurts, Jeremy thinks, to hear the concern laced within Michael's tone. While he's used to Michael worrying about him, this is different, and they both know it. "Can we talk? After work?"
"Of course, but-"
"Jeremy Heere to the front please."
Both boys glance toward the intercom above them.
"Sorry," Jeremy offers a shrug and starts toward the front.
For the second time today, Michael watches Jeremy walk off with panic swelling uncomfortably within his chest.
*****
When Michael's shift ends, he calls out a goodbye before meeting up with Jeremy, who's seated on a bench at the front of the store.
Michael jingles his keys, and Jeremy wordlessly gets up and follows Michael out of the store and to Michael's PT Cruiser.
Neither says a word as they slide into their seats. Michael shoves the key into the ignition, relaxing against the familiar purr of his engine. He cranks the AC up as high as it will go before shifting the car into drive, but he keeps his foot pressed firmly on the brake.
"What's up, Jeremy?" He questions, craning his head to the side to watch his friend.
Jeremy's gnawing at his thumb nail, struggling to find a good way to ask Michael the one question that's been burning in his mind since his conversation with Rich. After a few moments, he drops his hand to his lap with a low sigh before twisting his body until he's facing Michael. "Can I ask you something?"
Despite Michael's heart threatening to leap out of his throat, he keeps his face cool and calm. "Sure," he offers with a shrug, and Jeremy clears his throat.
"Are you gay?"