Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jeremy had his face smushed against the window, eyes half-open, completely shit-faced on whatever anesthetic the dentists gave him. He was babbling something about wanting to go to the aquarium, and about how, Dude, do you think anyone's ever gotten high at the aquarium? Like, under one of those arches that are actually fish tanks and the fish are swimming over you while you walk? That would be the best place to get high at. Or the worst.

Jeremy’s dad needed to leave soon after the procedure began. “Something at work,” he had explained over the phone. “I can’t miss it. You have a car, right, Michael? I’ll leave the doors unlocked. All you have to do is take care of Jeremy while I’m gone. And, I’ll— uh— throw in twenty bucks. Can you do it?”

Of course, Michael accepted, because how could he pass up an opportunity to watch his best friend talk nonsense all day and get paid for it? That shit was prime teasing material.

“‘Mm,” Jeremy mumbled now, his swollen cheeks and numb mouth muffling his speech. “I want some fries.”

“You can’t have fries, dude,” Michael reminded him. “Your mouth is all jacked up.”

“Can I have a slushie?”

“You just left the dentist, like, ten minutes ago. No slushies right now.”

“When are we gonna be home?”

“I ‘dunno. Twenty minutes?”

“How long is that?”

“Just be patient.”

“Where’s m’ dad?”

“Work.”

“Can we get pizza? I’m hungry.”

“Nah, man. Your teeth are too fucked, remember?”

“I don’t want my teeth to be fucked.”

“It’s too late, Jeremy. Your teeth are gone.”

He furrowed his brow, staring incredulously at Michael. “All of ‘em?”

When an opportunity like that presented itself, he usually hesitated. Not this time. “... Yes.”

“But I thought they were jus’ gonna take out some of ‘em!”

“Aw, man, they lied. Took all your teeth and just left, dude. They’re all gone.”

“Even the babies?”

“Yeah. Even the babies.”

“I thought I lost those!”

“You didn’t. That’s why they took them, too. The babies are the most valuable.”

“Shit. Is that why I can’t feel my teeth?”

“M’hmm. They just swiped all your teeth and put them in a bag. I bet the Tooth Fairy has some secret ring or something.”

“Tooth Fairy—?” Jeremy reached a hand to his mouth, feeling around for his teeth, until one of his incisors poked his finger. “You motherfucker.”

“Dammit. I’ve been found out.”

“You’re buyin’ me chips after this.”

“You can’t have chips, man!”

“Why not?”

“Remember? Four of your molars are gone.”

Jeremy glanced back down at his fingers, which were now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah. Holy shit, dude. Is it supposed to be bleeding like this?”

“I mean, yeah. Like I said, four of your molars are gone.”

“Why did I even have them in the first place, then?”

“‘Cause everyone used to eat stuff that was rough and we needed an extra set of molars to chew it.”

“So why can’t I keep them?”

“Because you don’t eat raw meat and roots and your big ol’ mouth doesn’t have enough room for more teeth.”

He slumped back into his seat. “I want my teeth back, Michael. What do I gotta do to get them to come back? Do I gotta… make a sacrifice? Like, do I gotta take out more teeth?”

“Nope,” he said, removing one hand from the steering wheel to rest it on Jeremy’s shoulder for a few seconds. “I think you’ve lost enough of those today.”

“Oh,” murmured Jeremy, letting his head lean against the window. “You’re smart, Michael.”

“Thanks.”

“Like, really smart.”

He felt himself pink. God, could he not even be complimented by his best friend without feeling slight flutters? He was pathetic. “Jeremy, the only reason why I know about the wisdom teeth thing is because I googled it in the waiting room.”

“Still, you’re smart. You’re all good at math ‘n shit.”

“You’re pretty bright yourself, y’know. I’m not that smart.”

“No, because you’re smart at other things, too. Like video games. And findin’ cool stuff. Like that Sega Dreamcast you got on eBay for fifty bucks.”

“I only have, like, one game for that thing.”

“It's still cool. Can we play it when we get home?”

“Aren't you tired?”

“I’m never too tired for games.”

“You passed out while we were playing Doom like, two days ago, man,” Michael reminded him.

“Whatever. Can we?”

“Maybe later. It's at my house, anyways.”

“What? We’re not goin’ to your house? Why?”

“Because your dad is going to come back after a while.”

“So you're just gonna leave me alone?”

“No—”

“While I'm all doped up?”

“Jeremy—”

“What if I die like this? Super high and without any teeth?”

“I’m going to take care of you until your dad gets back, man.”

“Oh. Okay.”

After a moment of silence, Jeremy pulled down the mirror. He opened his mouth, stared at it, then recoiled in disgust at the sight of blood seeping into the cracks of his chapped lips.

“Am I just really high,” he asked, “or do I look like that?”

“You look like that,” Michael responded, risking a quick glance over to his friend before returning his gaze to the road. “Remember? Your mouth is messed up. It’ll heal, though, no worries.”

“‘Course. I’ve got you helpin’ me. You're the best healer I know.”

A blush rose to his face. God, why did Michael get so red at simple praises from his best friend?

He knew why. His stupid-ass crush on him was going to ruin him one day.

“Well,” Michael said with a quick cough to clear his throat, “thanks. I’ll do my best to make sure your mouth doesn't die.”

“Good. You got a pretty mouth, Michael.”

Jesus.

He gave a nervous chuckle, followed by a side-eyed glance towards his friend, who was transfixed on his lips. His affinity for Jeremy wasn't going to ruin him— Jeremy himself was.

“... Thanks?” he replied.

“I like your mouth a lot.”

“I… like yours, too?”

“Really? I can’t feel mine. Didn’t they put tissues inside of it, or something?”

“Yeah, gauze pads, I think. You know, to stop the bleeding.”

He studied himself in the mirror again. “They didn’t work. ‘M still bleeding.”

“I mean— they’re not supposed to stop it entirely, man. Just help a little. I’ll take ‘em out when we get to your place.”

“M’kay.” He shifted in his seat. “This feels weird. It’s different than being weed-high, I think.”

“It probably is. You have a shit-ton of dentist drugs in you.”

“Dentists are hardcore,” he said, then turned his head from the car mirror to Michael. “Have you ever gotten your wisdom teeth out?”

“No. ‘Course, we’re only seventeen. My uncle just now got his out, and he’s in his late twenties.”

“Tell your uncle that I’m better than him.”

“Consider it done.”

He let out a short groan, then leaned onto Michael’s shoulder. The same thing had happened a million times before, but, lately, each time Jeremy rested his head on him, his heart sped just a little faster.

“You really do have a pretty mouth,” Jeremy mumbled. “And a pretty face. Just in general.”

Before he could stop him, he reached a hand up to Michael’s face and rested it on his mouth. Michael quickly shook it off, and, feeling as if he were glowing crimson, exclaimed, “Jesus, Jeremy, I’m driving!”

Jeremy released a low chuckle, then returned his hand to his side. “I wanna call Christine.”

He sighed. If Jeremy weren’t so adorable, he would have thrown him out of the car already. “I… Okay. My phone is in one of the cup holders.”

His friend dragged a sluggish hand to Michael’s phone, pressed the home button, then stared blankly at the screen.

“Did you forget?” Michael asked. “Password is 1111. Remember? We had this huge three-day-long argument over who got to be player one, and I was like, ‘I put in over a hundred hours into this game and I just got it this week, I’m player one’ and you were saying that since we were at your house, you should get to be player one, so I ended up changing half of the usernames and passwords and stuff I had to incorporate a one in them in order to reiterate the point. Like, I had you change my contact name in your phone to ‘Player One’ and everything.”

“I know,” Jeremy replied, slowly inputting the code. “Jus’ sleepy. But, hey, since I’m all loopy, can I be player one next time?”
“... We’ll see.”

He let out a soft “yay” before tapping at the screen furiously. He grew increasingly frustrated in each second that passed, brow knitting together in a vain attempt to concentrate.

“Having trouble?” Michael asked.

“Christine’s number isn’t showing up.”

He pulled up to a red light, then grabbed the phone of Jeremy’s hand. “That’s because you wrote ‘Crhiistomw’ in the contact search bar,” he said, fixing his mistake and tapping the call button before passing the phone back to him.

Soon afterwards, Christine’s ringback tone (some song from some musical, its quality drastically lowered thanks to the static) filled the otherwise silent car. She picked up after a couple rings.

“Hey, Michael,” she greeted. “What’s going on? Is Jeremy okay?”

“‘M fine,” Jeremy replied. “I just got a really numb mouth. Or no mouth at all. I can see it, but I can’t feel it. Wait, did they take my mouth and my teeth? If they did, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

“Jeremy? What are you doing with Michael’s phone?”

“He wanted to call you,” Michael interrupted. “He’s alright, by the way. Just all doped up on anesthetic and stuff.”

“Oh,” Christine said, dragging out the ‘o’. “How are you feeling, Jeremy?”

“Kinda tired,” Jeremy replied, “and weird. Like, I know what I’m sayin’ and what I’m doing, but I don’t at the same time. And I really want ice cream.”

“Maybe I’ll bring a milkshake for you later,” Christine told him.

“You’re a good friend, Christine.”

“You too, Jeremy.”

“I like strawberry ice cream, if you were wonderin’.”

“I’ll make sure to get you a strawberry milkshake.”

“Hey, I got a question. What’s your favorite kinda ice cream?”

“Mint chocolate-chip.”

“What? That tastes like toothpaste!”

“Maybe I like the taste of toothpaste.”

“You’re weird. I’ll pay you back in mint ice cream sometime.”

“Thanks.”

“I gotta ask Michael a question now. Bye, Christine.”

“Bye, Jeremy.”

He fumbled with the screen until his finger hit the end call button, then turned to Michael. “Your top-favorite ice cream of all time is that one blueberry cheesecake kind, right?”

He glanced over at Jeremy. How did he remember that while he was all doped up and kept forgetting he wasn’t supposed to eat hard foods? “Yeah. But most fast-food places usually only have the three classic flavors, so I just settle for chocolate, since it’s my second favorite.”

Jeremy separated his gaze from him, slumping back in his seat, staring at the road ahead of them through the windshield. “We should stop ‘n get some.”

He peered at the road signs in front of him. Was he going the wrong way or was he okay? “We’ll, uh… we’ll get some later. I’m trying to figure out where to go right now.”
“M’mkay. I still want somethin’ to eat when we get home, though. ‘M fuckin’ starved.”

“I know.”

“And tired.”

“You can take a nap.”

“Nah, not right now. It’s not sleepin’ time yet. I gotta get home, I gotta eat that tub of Neapolitan ice cream we have in the freezer… I’ve got priorities.”

“And you got them set straight.”

“You bet I do,” Jeremy said. He looked down at the phone he still had in his hand. Michael’s phone. “Hey, what’s your contact name for me?”

Shit . “Just ‘Asshole’,” Michael lied.

“What? Nuh-uh. I wanna see,” he said, again inputting the passcode and unlocking it. He started fishing around for his messages, fingers clumsily sliding across the screen.

Shit, shit, shit. “Uh, hey, Jeremy, I kinda need my phone back. Like, right now.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied, still searching. “You’re drivin’. I’m all doped up and I still know that you’re not s’posed to do that or you die.”

“C’mon, man, for me?”

“I’m not dyin’ while I’m high on dentist drugs. Maybe some other time. Like… When I’m 32. I have a strange feeling I’m gonna die at 32. That, or 87.”

“Please, Jeremy— just— just put it back,” Michael pleaded.

“Found it,” he said, tapping on the icon. And, of course, Jeremy’s contact was the first to show up.

He tapped on that, too.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Displayed on the top of the screen was ❥ ♡ ♥ Player Two <3❥ ♡ ♥.

Fuck.

Michael knew he shouldn’t have surrounded the nickname he had for Jeremy with heart emojis. He knew he was probably going to find it someday. He just thought he could prevent him from seeing it. Really, how idiotic could he be?

Jeremy was going to hate him. He was going to want nothing more to do with him. Even in his current state, he would probably have enough sense to come to the conclusion that he felt something for him, and Jeremy would not reciprocate at all because he was Jeremy , and he was supposed to be his best friend, not someone who he crushed on—

“You do that too?” Jeremy asked.

Michael turned his head to face him. “Uh— what?”

“You put lil’ heart emojis ‘round my name!” he grinned. “I did the same thing to you.”

What? “What?”

“Yeah! I was gonna keep it secret, ‘cause it was embarrassing, but it‘s good to know that you do it, too,” he said.

He leaned back into his seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Oh.”
Maybe that was just a thing that friends did and he got worked up over nothing. It probably was. Getting worked up over nothing was one of the things Michael did best.

Nonetheless, he could feel the blush on his face.

It wasn’t even a big deal— Jeremy was speaking without thinking. Maybe he didn’t even do the same thing, but said it just because there was nothing stopping him.

Or, maybe he did, but if it was just a regular friend thing, why did he find it embarrassing? They’d been best friends for over a decade. Nothing was embarrassing.

Maybe Jeremy felt the same way Michael did.

God, no he didn’t. Michael just needed to quit overanalyzing shit.

He ran a couple of fingers through his hair, then returned them to the steering wheel. Jesus fucking Christ. At least he was getting paid for this.

“Hey, Michael?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think would happen if I got stoned while high on dentist drugs?”

He sighed. “Don’t try it.”

“Aww, why not?”

“You’ll die.”

“Nuh-uh .”

“Yeah-huh! Man, what if you get so high that you die and ascend to some, like, astral realm of high? Like, another plane of existence?”

“Nuh- uh.”

“Okay, fine, I’m bullshitting you. It’s just that you probably shouldn’t smoke weed directly after getting your wisdom teeth removed.”

“M’kay, fine. But after?”

“Maybe once you’re all healed up, buddy. Then we’ll get high together.”

“Hell yeah— 7/11! 7/11!”

Michael looked to his right. Sure enough, there was the 7/11 on the street corner that faced the dollar store, meaning it was a ten-minute drive to Jeremy’s house.

“That’s a 7/11,” he confirmed.

“Can we get a slushie now?” Jeremy begged.

Michael only shot him a look.

“I ‘dunno if I can even eat the ice cream in the fridge before I fall asleep, dude. ‘M fuckin’ starvin’ and the only thing I’m gonna be able to eat for the next couple of days is ice cream from a tub and mashed potatoes,” he said. “I jus’ want a slushie. A blue raspberry one. Have some sympathy for the dying.”

Michael (unsuccessfully) tried to suppress a grin before pulling into the parking lot. “Okay. Wait in the car and I’ll get you your blue raspberry slushie.”

“You’re the best, Michael.”

“Don’t forget it,” he replied, exiting the car with a flourish.

He strolled up to the 7/11, pushing the doors in front of him open. With a quick look around, he walked up to the counter and faced the woman behind it, who currently had her back to him while she rifled around in some boxes.

“Uh, hey,” Michael greeted.

The woman hesitated, then straightened, sliding the box off to the side. “How can I help you?” she asked, spinning around on her heel, but pausing when she saw who had addressed her.

“Jenna?” Michael half-shouted.

“Michael?” Jenna responded in the same tone. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” he countered. “I thought you were working at Claire’s.”

“I was working at Claire’s,” she replied, slight dejection in her voice. “Emphasis on was.”

“What happened?”

“I snapped at a customer who was throwing a temper tantrum over the accessories we sold.”

“Oh, yeah. You told me about that last time we went out for smoothies.”

“Was that the same smoothie session where I told you that story about Calvin Puntanen?”

“You mean the one where he got wasted, streaked through half the town, then saw Gwendolyn Rinker’s house and started sobbing naked on her doorstep, begging her to take him back?”

“M’hmm.”

“Yeah. Damn, that was wild.”

“Uh-huh. Next session, I gotta tell you what I heard about Emmett Buckwalter’s fling with those models.”

“Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No. It’s a surprise.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just withhold what I recently learned about what happened at Natalie Tsu’s last party.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me,” Michael grinned.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll wait,” she dismissed, a glare on her face that was only half-serious, elbows leaning against the counter. “Now— what do you need?”

“Medium Coke slushie and a large blue raspberry slushie.”

“Two slushies, huh?” she asked, making her way to the slushie machine. “You just like slushies or do you have someone else with you?”

“Jeremy just got his wisdom teeth pulled out of him, like, less than an hour ago,” he told her. “He’s in the car.”

“Oh,” she said, the corners of her mouth upturning into a smirk. “Jeremy, huh?”

“... Why do you have that look on your face?” Michael leaned forward on the counter while she filled up the disposable cups.

“What look?” she denied, though she clearly knew what he meant. “I don’t have a look.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “You know you do.”

“It’s just,” she began, passing him the blue raspberry slushie before starting on the Coke one, “you and Jeremy seem… close.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that… You’re always talking about him.”

“He’s been my best friend since kindergarten, Jenna.”

“Oh, I know! But the closer people get, and the more time they spend together, the quicker certain… feelings… develop.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Maybe.”

“Jenna, c’mon. I don’t have a crush on Jeremy.”

“Y’know, I never said you did, but it’s funny how you jumped to that conclusion. Almost as if you thought I had found out about your crush on Jeremy and got defensive.”

“Jenna.”

“What?” she asked, smirk still on her face when she handed him his Coke slushie.

“Jeremy’s my best friend,” he told her. “Not my boy friend.”

“Not yet.”

“My God, Jenna.”

“I’m just saying, Michael, it’s kinda odd how a dude as handsome as you has gone so long without a boyfriend. Didn’t Austin Bremner ask you out a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah, and I turned him down because I barely knew him and I’m pretty sure he only liked me because Jeremy and I started hanging out with the cool kids.”

“Well, yeah, fair point, but it’s not the fact that you rejected him that I’m referring to.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s just that Jeremy was talking shit about Austin an awful lot for the week following.”

“... He was?” Michael asked, again feeling butterflies stir in his stomach. He had to calm down every once in a while. Not everything that Jeremy did was supposed to make him fall for him even more.

“Yeah. Rich asked if he was jealous, and he just got really defensive. He was glowing red. Also, the slushies are $3.30.”

He started fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. “Well, I remember some shit-talking, but… When did that happen?”

“Rich, Jeremy, and I were trying to help find Brooke a birthday present for her mom at Bath & Body Works and we stopped for pretzels,” she began, tapping her fingers on the counter. “He saw Austin pass by, and, like, immediately started digging up dirt on him. Then Brooke was like, ‘Jeremy, why have you been shit-talking Austin Bremner so much?’ and Jeremy was like, ‘ I don’t know, I just don’t like him, he tried to use Michael’ , so Rich was like, ‘Are you just jealous because someone other than you tried to ask him out?’ , and then Jeremy started getting all defensive. His entire face was, like, crimson. He started sputtering and tripping over his words and telling us that, no, you’re his best friend, so he would never. But, I don’t know… If someone accused me of having a crush on someone I didn’t have a crush on, I would probably dismiss it a lot more calmly than that.”

He produced a five dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it on the counter. “Maybe he just genuinely doesn’t like Austin Bremner.”

Jenna took it and opened up the register. “He barely knows him. I can understand talking about him for a little while because you were upset about it, which made him upset, but he has hardly any reason to badmouth him for as long as he did.”

“I think you’re overthinking this.”

“I think you’re under thinking this,” Jenna countered, trying to work out his change.

“Jeremy— he— he doesn’t…” Michael folded his arms. “It’s just not going to happen, Jenna.”

“Whatever you say.” She grabbed his arm and deposited his change into his extended hand. “But, you know, I’m more than just a gossip dispenser.”

“I know.”

“And if you ever want to talk to me about anything, crush-related or not, I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“I know.”

“Just checkin’. I worry sometimes.”

“I know. You’re a good friend, Jenna.”

“Better believe it. Now go make sure Jeremy hasn’t gotten himself killed yet. I have a store full of customers to tend to.”

“No one’s here except for me.”

“Potential customers.”

“Right,” he smiled, making his way to the exit. “Bye, Jenna.”

“Bye, Michael,” she called as the doors swung closed behind him.

He took another sip of his slushie as he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket.

He knew Jenna meant well, but she was wrong, no matter what she thought she knew. Even with all the weird stuff Jeremy had been saying all day, Michael was near certain he had no feelings for him. And, even if he did— which he didn’t— he doubted either of them would ever build up enough courage to ask the other. It took a year and a sadistic computer-generated asshole to get Jeremy to ask Christine out, and Michael had never dated anyone. (That is, unless you counted Gabe Oetinger from the ninth grade, but that lasted less than a week because Gabe just wanted to make someone jealous and Michael just wanted someone to crush on other than Jeremy. Neither of their plans ended up working out.)

Besides, risking ruining a life-long friendship in order to pursue a romantic relationship was out of the question. Jeremy was his friend first.

He strolled back over to his car and opened the door, slipping into the driver’s seat. Jeremy was still beside him, poking at his own cheeks.

“What are you doing, man?” asked Michael.

“Tryin’ to find the spot where they took out the wisdom tooth,” Jeremy replied. “I wonder if there’s a hole just sittin’ in my gums now.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I got your slushie.”

“Hell yeah,” Jeremy muttered as he passed it to him. He immediately began gulping it down. Michael started up the car and pulled out.

“Hey,” Jeremy said after a solid couple of minutes of him chugging his slushie. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Michael asked.

“For stoppin’ to get me this. I’m not as hungry anymore. I prob’ly should’ve eaten breakfast this morning, but oh well.”

“Dude, it was no problem. Why didn’t you eat breakfast?”

“Forgot. I had some coffee, though, and my tongue got kinda burnt, but that’s the price I pay for caffeine. Woah, I wonder what would happen if you put coffee in a slushie and made, like, a coffee slushie. I’d eat that.”

“Hmm. You feeling alright, by the way? Like, I know you’re super high, but has it, like, worn off a little bit?”

“A little, maybe.”

“Your mouth doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Nah.”

“Okay, good.”

“Why, did you poison this?”

“No—”

“I knew you were takin’ longer than usual. Dude, after all these years...”

“I didn’t—”

“Was it rat poison? Or, like, regular poison?” He clicked his tongue. “I’m not tastin’ anything. Except slushie and maybe blood. Wait, do I even taste slushie? I can’t feel my tongue.”

“There’s no poison,” Michael assured. “The reason why I took so long is because I ran into Jenna, not because we were trying to kill you. I just wanted to check on you.”

“What’d Jenna say?” asked Jeremy, who was back to drinking his slushie, now confident he had not been poisoned.

He hesitated. “Oh, just… stuff.”

“Stuff? ‘Bout what?”

“... About… people.”

“What kinda people?”

“Oh, just, uh…” He raised a hand to his head, letting his fingers run through his hair. “Austin Bremner.”

“Aw, now you gotta tell me what she said about him.”

“Well, actually, that’s the thing,” he explained, becoming increasingly nervous. “She told me you kept badmouthing Austin Bremner for a really long time without much of a reason.”

“I had a reason.”

“Being…?”

“He asked you out just because he wanted to hang out with the cool kids.”

“Well, he might have, but, like, was there any other reason?”

“Yeah!”

“What was it?”

“... I don’t remember.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. Fuck it. Just say it. “Jenna said that she thought you were jealous.”

Jeremy opened his mouth and furrowed his brow, then paused. He thought for a moment, then slinked back into his seat. “Oh. Maybe.”

What did he mean ‘oh, maybe’?

“... Okay,” Michael said. “That… I don’t know what you… okay.”

“M’mm, yeah, she’s probably right,” Jeremy agreed, mostly to himself.

“What were you jealous of?” Michael decided to ask.

A wide grin spread across his face. “I can’t tell you right now! It’s not the right time.”

“Time for what?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said, leaning back against his seat, one arm behind his head and another holding his slushie. “Y’know, before they got me all high on this dentist stuff, I would have never even considered doing it. But I feel like I can do anythin’ right now. I think I’ll wait ‘til I finish this slushie, though.”

“... I get the feeling you’re planning murder.”

“Nah. No murder. I think. But I do feel pretty good. I should have my wisdom teeth taken out all the time.”

“You can’t do that. You don’t have wisdom teeth anymore.”

“I’ll grow them back.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Jeremy.”

“Oh. Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you thought I was gonna kill someone, but if I’m being honest, I think chickens are the worst murderers.”

“They probably are.”

“Yeah. They’re vicious. Don’t worry about me killin’ anyone. Worry about the chickens.”

“There aren’t any chickens around here.”

“That’s what they want you to think. Oh, hey Michael?”

“Yeah, Jeremy?”

“Do you think mermaids eat human meat if they find it? ‘Cause some fish eat human meat. Or is that cannibalism? Is it only half-cannibalism, so it makes it okay?”

“I ‘dunno, maybe.”

“Do they have any fish friends? ‘Cause they gotta eat the fish. Do they make special fish friends that they promise not to kill and eat all the other fish? Or do they make fish friends and kill them after the fish start trusting them?”

“Maybe mermaids are herbivores.”

“Nuh-uh. Not all of ‘em, at least. Some humans are cannibals.”

“You have a point.”

“Sebastian and that one fish buddy from Ariel are probably dead now. Ariel ate them.”

“You’re probably right. Rest in peace.”

“I had a plushie of that fish dude when I was little. Now he’s fuckin’ dead.”

He glanced over at him. “Dude, are you crying?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Jeremy raised a finger to his eye. “Oh. Maybe just a little.”

They continued like that for the better part of the remainder of the ride— Jeremy saying whatever was on his mind (mostly useless questions) and Michael giving short, amused responses. They pulled into the driveway of Jeremy’s house, who had finished his slushie and had apparently forgotten all about what he was jealous over. That was fine. If sober Jeremy wouldn’t tell Michael, it was probably bad.

He exited the car and helped Jeremy to do the same, who was still a little too dizzy and doped up to do much except be tired and talk nonsense.

They made their way to the door. It was unlocked, as promised, which Michael was grateful for.

They went inside without much trouble. Jeremy immediately collapsed on the couch. “Blanket,” he requested plainly, his voice muffled due to his face being firmly planted into a cushion.

“‘Course,” Michael said. Mr. Heere kept the blankets in a closet in the bathroom. He knew, from his many visits and sleepovers, that Jeremy’s favorite was a plush blanket that was undoubtedly the softest one out of all of them. However, he got it when he was four and enamored with Strawberry Shortcake. As a result, the graphic on the outside of the blanket was a vaguely haunting close-up of Strawberry Shortcake’s face. Michael had no idea how Jeremy slept with her soulless eyes drilling into whatever her gaze happened to fall upon.

He rifled through the pile of blankets in the closet until he found it. Careful to not cause the others to topple over, he dragged it out and carried it over to him. After Michael unceremoniously dropped it on his back, Jeremy muttered a “thank you.”

“I’ll go get you an ice pack,” he told him, ruffling Jeremy’s hair. He responded in a short grunt.

Michael speeded to the kitchen and rummaged in the freezer until he found an ice pack, which ended up being one of those reusable ones that you were supposed to put in children’s lunches. It was shaped like a smiley face, albeit most of the face had been scratched off, but that was fine.

He made his way back over to his place on the couch.

“Put this on your face,” he instructed. Jeremy lazily rose a hand to Michael’s, gripped onto the ice pack, and held it to his cheek.

“It’s cold,” he told him.

“It’s supposed to be cold. Have you spit out those gauze-thingies yet?”

“No.”

“You should probably do that.”

Jeremy lifted his face from the couch cushion, turned himself towards Michael, and grinned. He spit out both gauze pads at him.

“Jeremy!” Michael yelped, jumping back as they hit the floor with an anti-climactic plop. He only chuckled in response.

“You told me to spit ‘em out,” he said.

“I meant, like, into a trashcan or something! Not at me!”

“Well, they’re spit out now, so problem solved.”

Michael glanced over to the two gauze pads on the floor, drenched in blood after sitting in Jeremy’s mouth for longer than probably necessary. “I’ll, uh… clean that up.”

“Hey, Michael?” he asked as the other moved towards the kitchen again to retrieve paper towels.

“Yeah?”

“How do you know so much about how to take care of me?”

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “I got worried about you in the waiting room so I looked up stuff about what to do after you get your wisdom teeth pulled.”

Jeremy shifted slightly into a more comfortable position. He was indisputably exhausted. It was a wonder how he managed not to fall asleep in the car. “You were worried?”

“‘Course I was.”

“You shouldn’t’ve been.”

“You were getting four molars taken out of you. How could I not worry?”

“No, I mean, in general, you shouldn’t…” Jeremy trailed off, then spoke again. “‘M sorry about the Squip thing.”

Michael, caught off-guard, hesitated for a moment. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he retorted, eyes half open and threatening to close. “Stop sayin’ it’s okay all the time. You know it’s not okay.”

“But it is now. Everyone’s fine.”

“No they’re not,” he argued, louder this time. “Rich ‘n I still got ‘em saying stuff here and there. Tellin’ us what we need to do, questioning what we’ve already been doing, raking through our brains like it’s their own.”

Michael paused, and, slowly, he lowered himself to his knees in order to become eye-level with Jeremy. “I thought— I thought you said the Squip was mostly gone. That

it was just whispers once every few weeks and then it would vanish.”

He scoffed. “Mostly gone. There are whispers once or twice a week, but sometimes it finally decides to speak up again ‘n it hurts like hell. It says a few things, then bugs out and dies.”

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter. I only tell you shit that matters. It pretty much only repeats things I already know and starts critiquing it. Besides, there are more people that I fucked over—”

“Jeremy—”

“Like, Chloe says she doesn’t do school plays anymore ‘cause everytime she looks at a script she gets head pains.”

“Chloe never liked doing plays. She already told you she’s okay.”

“That doesn’t make it any less worse, Michael. And Eminem? I never even liked him, but he’s dead now ‘cause my Squip fuckin’ killed him from afar or some shit.”

“What?”

“And worst of all—”

“Wait, Jeremy, we can’t just gloss over the ‘murdering a celebrity’ thing even if you’re really high right now—”

“I hurt you.”

Michael was quiet. He let out a slow sigh. “I already told you that it’s okay you ignored me. Your Squip coerced you into it, right?”

“I still chose to do it.”

Michael really didn’t want to talk about it. “I know.”

“I ignored you for months.”

He winced. He never liked to be reminded of the period of time where he had no friends and no Jeremy, who he had stuck to like cling wrap for twelve years, only to be tossed aside like he never existed. “I know.”

“And I called you a loser.”

God, shut up, Jeremy. “It’s fine.”

“That’s not okay.”

“It is now.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“My Squip was turned off ‘n everything—”

“It’s okay,” Michael said, though it came out harsher than he meant it to.

There was a prolonged silence between the both of them. Jeremy, again, with his eyes slightly more awake than before, spoke. “I know you had a panic attack at Jake’s Halloween party last year.”

Michael, upon registering what he had said, tensed. “I never told you that.”

“I know. Jenna saw me come outta the bathroom, but when she went to go in, it was locked. She waited outside for a lil’ bit, and she heard heavy breathing and gasping and sobs. After you guys became friends and she found out it was you, she tried to beat me up.” Jeremy shifted again, shuffling near the end of the couch to be closer to him. “I tell you stuff. You gotta tell me stuff sometimes.”

He said nothing, considering how to respond, before deciding to resort back to how he always responded when Jeremy reflected on the things he did a year ago. “It’s okay—”

“Stop saying that!” he shouted with all the volume he could muster, which wasn’t much, considering the fact that he was exhausted, but it was loud enough for a shout.

Michael went silent.

“You know it’s not okay,” Jeremy continued. “You know it isn’t. I’m high as balls on some hardcore dentist meds or anaesthetic or whatever and I still know that. I just— I wanna know that it’s okay and that you’re okay, but I also know that nothing’s ever gonna be the same again. I know that I hurt you and I know that I hurt everyone else. You don’t gotta keep tellin’ me that it’s okay. I just… want everyone to know how sorry I am.”

Michael reached for Jeremy’s hand, which was dangling off the side of the couch. He squeezed it tightly. “You’re forgiven.”

Jeremy smiled, tired and already drifting off. Michael rose from his spot on the floor, took the blanket, which was still folded on Jeremy’s back, and spread it out over him.

“Hey, Michael?” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He felt his heart flutter. Goddammit. “I love you too, buddy.”

“No.” Jeremy’s voice was still soft and his speech still muffled. “I love you, Michael.”

He was quiet again. Jeremy was just speaking without thinking. He had been all day. He meant that he loved having him as a friend, or he loved the relationship that they had, or something that completely and absolutely had nothing to do with any romantic feelings.

“Michael?” Jeremy asked again.

“M’hmm?”

“‘Member in the car when you asked me why I was talkin’ so much shit about Austin Bremner?”

“Well, that was fifteen minutes ago,” he replied, a hint of laughter at the end of his sentence, “so, yeah.”

“I know why I was jealous.”

He made sure to tuck the blanket in around him. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s ‘cause I didn’t want other people going out with you.”

“Why? Were you afraid I’d get hurt or something?”

“No,” Jeremy said, pulling the covers up to his chin like he always did. “It’s because I realized that I wanted to be the one to go out with you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat.

Jeremy may not have known what he was saying, but he couldn’t make stuff like that up, could he? It didn’t seem like a joke, at least. And, yet, it almost seemed like a cruel stunt somebody was pulling on him. He developed a crush on him in the eighth grade, and now Jeremy— the same Jeremy who voiced to him his fixation with Christine for a full year— was now admitting that he felt something for him. Something beyond what someone’s supposed to feel for a friend.

It didn’t feel real.

It didn’t feel like the truth.

It probably wasn’t.

He rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Take your nap, Jeremy.”

Jeremy muttered out an ‘okay.’ And, then, an “I love you.”

Michael stuffed his hands in his hoodie.

With an upset stomach and an upset mind, he went to go clean up the gauze pads that were still lying on the floor.

-

The doorbell rang. Despite the noise, Jeremy didn’t stir.

Michael rose from his place on the chair and set down Jeremy’s old DS. He stole it from his room, because, goddammit, he needed something to distract him.

He hoped it was Mr. Heere. He just wanted to leave.

Instead, it was Christine, three milkshakes gathered up in her arms, just like she promised. “I hope you like chocolate,” she beamed.

“I do, thanks,” he smiled in return, gesturing for her to come inside. Thank God for Christine.

She glanced over at Jeremy, who was still passed out on the couch. “Is he doing okay?”

“M’mm, yeah,” he replied. “He just conked out after we came home. You can set his milkshake anywhere. I’ll just stash it in the freezer later. No idea why that weirdo likes strawberry.”

She handed Michael his, then set Jeremy’s down on the TV stand. “Yeah, you know, I never liked strawberry ice cream all that much. I just stick with vanilla most of the time.”

“Well,” Michael said, plopping himself down in his seat, “at least he’ll have something to eat when he wakes up.”

Christine sat down in the rocking chair adjacent to Michael. “How long has he been out?”

“Uh, about… a couple hours?” Michael told her. “He’s been doing alright. Just saying weird stuff.”

“Ooh, what kinda weird stuff?” she grinned, leaning forward in her seat.

He took a sip of his milkshake and pointed his gaze at the floor. “Uh… nothing much.”

“Aw, c’mon, Michael. You gotta tell me something. I wanna know what he said.”

Trying to clear his mind of Jeremy’s behavior upon arriving home, he relayed a few stories of doped-up Jeremy to her. “He kept asking me stuff about mermaids.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if they were cannibals or carnivores or herbivores or whatever. He cried a little bit because he thought Ariel killed Flounder.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Evidently, he really likes Flounder. Oh, and earlier he was asking about getting high at an aquarium.”

“Ah.” She took another mouthful of her drink. “Did he give away any big secrets? I know that’s what most people are afraid of after getting their wisdom teeth pulled. He murder anyone?”

That was what he was afraid she would ask.

He wanted to tell somebody, but at the same time, it wasn’t his secret to tell. Or was it? At least partly, since it was about him?

No, he couldn’t divulge something like that while Jeremy was passed out. He probably hadn’t even meant to say anything. Michael didn’t even know if it was true. In fact, it probably wasn’t, so why was he making such a big deal out of it?

He resolved to shrug, avoid Christine’s gaze, and mutter, “I don’t know.”

A look of both uncertainty and shock crossed her face. “Oh, I was, uh, somewhat joking. He didn’t actually say anything, did he?”

He gave her another shrug.

“You don’t have to tell me what it was,” she said. “I just— oh, shit, did he actually murder somebody? Because, Michael, you know I wouldn’t tell a soul—”

“No! No, he didn’t kill anyone. At least, I think? He mentioned something about Eminem, but I’m pretty sure he was just high— no, he didn’t commit murder.”

Christine seemed to visibly relax at that. “So, what is it about, then?”

Michael took a deep breath. Why not say something Christine? She seemed like the best person to tell. She could keep it a secret between the two of them.

Playing with the loose threads on one of the patches on his arm, he said, “He told me he loved me.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she replied, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Michael said, shifting in his seat. “At first, I just thought it was a friendly thing. I mean, he was speaking before he could think about it, and it wasn’t like we hadn’t told each other we loved one another before, but he said it like he meant… something different. I wrote it off as just a platonic thing, but then he said that he was jealous of that one kid who tried to ask me out because he wanted to be the one that I went out with.”

She was quiet for a moment, and, then, “Is that a problem?”

“... No,” he sighed. “Well, kinda, because I don’t know whether or not it was just exhaustion mixed with being high on whatever they gave him, or if he was over-exaggerating, or if he actually meant what he was saying, or…”

Christine sucked in her cheek, chewing on it. After a moment of thought, she said, “I think he meant it.”

“You do?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like he was trying to lie for no reason.”

“But what if he was? People don’t usually tell secrets like that after they get their wisdom teeth out. I know I read that somewhere. Maybe he was just lying to see how I’d react.”

“People don’t usually tell their best friend that they’d date them if they really had no feelings for them, regardless of how out of it they are,” she argued. “Besides, it’s not like ‘rarely’ means ‘never.’ Maybe he just felt confident this time, so he did it.”

Michael furrowed his brow. “He did tell me he felt like he could do anything earlier.”

“See what I mean?” She smiled around her straw. “Don’t worry.”

He couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Thanks, Christine.”

“Anytime.” After a brief moment of silence, she jolted upright and leapt to her feet. “Shit, I forgot! I just came by to drop these off. I have to meet Jake and Chloe in, like, twenty minutes and I still have a half hour drive.”

“Bye,” he called after her as she sprinted to the door.

“Bye!” she called back, already halfway outside.

The door slammed shut. Once again, it was just Michael, a sleeping Jeremy, and his problems.

He took a sip from his milkshake and resumed his game.

-

Mr. Heere came back three hours after Christine’s visit. Jeremy, unsurprisingly, was still asleep. Michael hadn’t had the chance to make him shove new gauze pads in his mouth. He figured he’d leave that job to Jeremy himself.

He stepped into the house without warning, which, admittedly, made Michael jump, but he felt relief wash over him once he realized who it was.

“Hello, Michael,” Mr. Heere greeted, his voice hushed upon seeing Jeremy’s slumbering figure on the couch.

“Hey, Mr. Heere,” he said, returning his tone. He set the DS on the coffee table in front of him. He’d spent the last five hours flipping through channels, playing Mario Party DS, and pacing around in the kitchen (he had always found pacing to be soothing).

He removed a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and laid it in front of Michael. “Hope he didn’t cause any trouble.”

“Nah,” Michael replied, rising from his seat and slipping the money into his own pocket. Initially, he thought about refusing cash, but by that time a good portion of him had completely zoned out.

“Did he do anything embarrassing?” he asked, throwing in a friendly wink. “I wanna be filled in.”

“Mostly, he just slept and asked weird questions. He thought all his teeth were gone at one point. Oh, and he cried a little bit about the fish from Ariel,” he told him. It was only a half-lie. He did ask stupid questions and he took a nap once they got home. Michael was just conveniently leaving out the dating part for both their sakes.

Mr. Heere chuckled, sparing a glance back at Jeremy, and then returning his gaze to Michael. “I’ll be sure to tease him about that.”

He nodded, for lack of a better response, and then said, “I should probably go. Make sure Jeremy doesn’t die for me.”

“Will do,” he replied. “Drive safe, Michael.”

With that, he was out the door and heading into the driveway.

He climbed into his PT Cruiser and turned the key, but didn’t pull out onto the road immediately.

Instead, he sat there.

In all honesty, even if Jeremy had meant what he said, there was no telling what would happen if Michael confronted him about it. He’d probably deny it. Or he’d accuse him of making things up. Or they’d get into a fight. And, even if they miraculously got their shit sorted out and ended up getting together, there was no guarantee that it would last. If it didn’t, what would happen then? Would it be awkward? Would they still be friends? Would they even still speak to each other? Michael really didn’t want to be known as Jeremy’s shitty ex-boyfriend.

He backed out onto the road and started driving off.

Maybe it was best not to say anything.

So what if Michael ended up pining after Jeremy for another few years? His friendship was more important to him, anyways. He wouldn’t adore him like this forever, and he’d be happier in the long run if they just remained friends.

Maybe he’d never find out what could be. Was that such a big deal?

Was it?

Michael switched on the radio.

Maybe it was best not to think about it, either.