Chapter Text
He had just turned in his assignment, surrendering it on the table in the center of the classroom with the rest of the class’ work and returning to his seat at the back of the room. Jeremy doesn’t study art, meaning they were not together this period, and Michael pictured him tapping the end of his chewed pencil on his desk over in chemistry. He craned back on his stool to gaze at Jeremy through the dirty window, spotting him in the chemistry classroom across the stretch of pavement.They had rushed to these seats at the beginning of the year, knowing that they’d be able to see each other, to make the classes they didn’t share more bearable. Michael desperately willed for Jeremy to look up and see him, focusing intently, perhaps he could do some telepathic magic or something and make him turn his head.
Michael’s daze was interrupted a moment later. “Thank you everyone,” the teacher waved, counting the artworks to ensure everyone had submitted. Scanning the works, she lingers on one, picking out Michael’s to show to the class.
“Look how wonderful this is! Well done.” “See how she’s-”
Michael’s mind jumps to block her out, vowing he won’t let it affect him this time.
“She. She. She. She.”
”Keep it together, Michael.”
The words burned in his mind, ”She. She. She.” He felt his chest tighten and his body fill with adrenaline, pulse roaring in his ears. His thoughts quickly become cluttered by the hatred that is surfacing, coursing through him like fire. He wants to scream and claw at his skin till it comes off. Why is it so hard? “Call me HE. IT’S HE.”
Head bowed and eyes trained on his desk, analysing the dry smears of paint a little too intensely, he can feel the attention of his fellow students on him. He raises his head to absentmindedly meet the teacher’s eyes, who is gazing at him expectantly. Fear and rage boil in his chest at her pleasant smile, completely oblivious. He hopes nobody can see, hopes his face doesn’t look as red as it feels. If only Jeremy were here to correct her. He was so good at that. Despite his own anxiety, Jeremy always corrected people.
Every time Michael is misgendered in class, the noise in his head derails the rest of the lesson, he drops his head again, allowing the ringing inside to consume him, until it is interrupted by the ringing of the bell at the end of the period.
“Thanks Miss,” Michael mumbles as he steps through the door onto the concrete outside. Gazing through the dirty window of the chemistry classroom, he squints in the afternoon sun to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend, but Jeremy is already out of sight, no doubt heading to where they meet after school to await Michael’s arrival there.