Chapter Text
I Swear To God If Jeremy Heere Catches Any Whiff Of A Notion Of This Notebook's Existence I Will Immediately Die
(He Is An Angel On Earth Holy Shit I Can't Deal With It)
(Alternative title: Things I Wish I Could Say To Jeremy But Simultaneously Would Cease To Exist If I Ever Did)
1. Holy shit I'm falling for my best friend
2. You're my favorite person in the entire universe... That's all I know...
3. I love how your voice pitches up and your nose crinkles up when you laugh
4. You are the single cutest thing in existence nothing can convince me otherwise
5. Holy SHIT I've fallen for my best friend
6. You're just too beautiful for your own good
7. Dammit why the hell is your hair so soft I am currently dying? It's so perfect
8. You are seriously an angel. Like. I am fucking serious Heere you are some kind of higher being
9. WHY ARE YOU SO CUDDLY YOU BASTARD YOU SEEM TO EXIST TO TORTURE ME
10. Ho boy, Jere, happy birthday... I love you
11. Wish we could keep cuddling like this forever...
12. Jesus christ I am a Mess™ over this boy
13. Heere I swear to god. You will be the death of me
14. WHY JUST!? WHY
15. YOU KNOW ME I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR JEREMY
16. The fact that you're trans doesn't change anything at all, Jere... But I'm really honored that you trust me enough to tell me.
17. Hope you think of me every night like I do you
18. Thinking of you... How's Oregon? Are you having fun? Are you thinking about me?
19. Jesus christ I am pining so HARD for this boy it's not even funny!!
20. UUUUUUGH WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING PRETTY YOU'RE JUST TEASING ME AT THIS POINT
21. JUST LET ME KISS YOU DAMMIT
22. I wish I was spending this evening dancing with you instead of dancing alone and crying
23. Sorry it's been so hard lately. I don't know what to do
24. Wow, the shit I've been saying for the past few days seems so dumb now. How can one therapy session do that much?
25. I am addicted to looking at your freckles...
26. The high I get off hearing you laugh is better than any drug
27. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me
28. Can I just. Call you Angel Jeremy? Because you are 100% an angel don't even try denying it
29. YOUR HAIR IS SO FLUFFY OMG DUDE
30. Please... Just look at me the way you look at her...
31. I love you, I love you, I love you.
32. JEREMY I HATE YOU AND IT HURTS SO MUCH BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP LOVING YOU
33. JUST KEEP HURTING ME PLEASE AND MAYBE SOMEDAY YOU'LL MANAGE TO PUSH ME AWAY AND I'LL FINALLY BE FREE
34. Please wake up, angel... Please don't drift away...
35. I wish we could just go back to how we were before... Please stop holding her hand...
36. It just feels like I've gone numb, you know? I can't even feel the pain when I see you holding her hand anymore.
37. Please don't look at me...
[Several large drops of what looks like dried blood obscure the next couple entries]
40. WHY DOESN'T IT STOP HURTING
41. JUST MAKE THIS END MAKE THE PAIN STOP JEREMY
42. STOP LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT STOP KISSING HER JUSTS OPITPLEASEPLEASE ILOVE YOUTOOMUCHSTOPHURTINGMEPLEA
[the rest of the ink of this and the next entry's writing is blotched beyond legibility with what seems to be tears]
44. jeremy im so sorry. i love you
45. goodbye
46. why
47. Jeremy why didn't you come to find me
48. Why wasn't it you who saved me
49. Why haven't you texted me for a month
50. Why haven't we talked for a week
51. Why haven't we hung out for two months
52. Why haven't you looked at me for three days
53. Why can't I stop loving you for even a second
54. It hurts
55. It hurts, Jeremy, and I don't know what to do now
56. I think I'll try again
57. I'll try to get out
58. I hope you miss me
59. I wish you'd kiss me
60. Bye sweetheart
61. We havent talked since my first attempt
62. Why won't you look at me
63. Why did you choose her over me
64. I can't take school right now
65. I've been texting you and it stabs like a knife in the gut every time you don't respond
66. Now they've taken all my blades that's the only masochistic thing I can do anymore
67. It doesn't even feel worth a third attempt
68. It's been one month and three days since we last talked. I try every day, but it's like I'm not there. You don't even seem to notice me. Everyone else does. They don't talk to me much, but they acknowledge me.
69. I didn't stick with you for twelve years to be thrown out like yesterday's garbage
70. But I can't stop loving you
71. It hurts so bad but I love every minute of it
72. Day 45 of being ignored by you. Lunch. Once again, spent in the bathroom. Crying. Trying to cut with my fingernails and mechanical pencils. And failing. Of course. Cause I fail at everything, because I'm a loser, right?
73. I know Rich talked to you about contacting me three days ago but I still haven't heard from you
74. It hurts so much I don't even know what I did wrong
75. Hey. I heard you and Christine broke up? Mutual terms? I hear she's aro/ace... Good for her for figuring stuff out. How about you? How are you doing? It's been a full two months since we last talked. I still love you more than I can bear. Hope you're happy with life in general. Hugs.
76. Yo. What's up? It's been 71 days since we talked... I'm trudging through life as usual. Everything loses its color and sound without you. I don't really listen to music that much anymore... Haven't played any video games for at least a month. I don't care about anything anymore... Living, dying, sitting staring into thin air... There's no difference to me. I wish I knew what I did to drive you off, but... I probably never will. So I'll just keep dragging myself through each day just cause that's what I've always done.
77. My soul aches for you
78. I can't believe you could just leave me like that and not feel any pain
79. I love you so much
80. It hurts
81. Day 81 of being ignored. Oh, hey... It's entry 81 too. I don't even know what to do anymore. I love you. But you hurt me more than anyone deserves to be hurt. And I don't even think you meant to.
82. Hey, so Rich told me he had a good conversation with you about me. He says you're talking about me like we still talk. Like we're still best buds. And not that we're not, but... If you're gonna say that you've been talking to me... Then actually talk to me, would you?
83. I don't know what to say
Jeremy looked up, eyes brimming with waves of tears.
"Oh m-my god," he whispered, covering his mouth with his hand. "I c-can't believe... It-it's... He...!"
Rich gave him a look hard as diamond, sharp as blades, and cold as liquid nitrogen.
"Jeremy Heere, you owe thith boy theveral apologieth and at leatht two lifetimeth of thticking to hith thide. I'm theriouthly not letting you thlip away with thome excuthe thith time. Why the hell did you let thith happen? How the hell did you not notithe that your betht friend attempted thuithide, TWITHE?! You should be ashamed. Hell, I'm ashamed for you. Thith kid ith head over fucking heelth for you and hath been since the beginning of freshman year. Give him a hug."
"W-where is he."
"Probably thitting in his bathement, thtaring vacantly into empty thpathe."
Jeremy was halfway across the parking lot before Rich could say anything else. He clutched the composition book to his chest like a lifeline. His feet pounded on the sidewalk, pushing him closer to his destination.
How had he let it happen?! He had started dating Christine, spending less time with Michael, until eventually, he just... Stopped talking to him. Stopped noticing when he walked into the room. An ugly mix of self-disgust and horror swirled within his chest cavity as he banged his way through the front door and barrelled downstairs, not bothering to close the entrance.
"M-Michael!!" he cried, diving at his friend. Michael didn't react. He just remained slumped on the beanbag, staring blankly at nothing in particular, Jeremy heaving sobs into his sweatshirt. "M-Michael, p-please...! I'm s-so s-sorry, I d-don't know w-what happened, I j-just st-stopped talking t-t-to you, and you at-ttemped suicide t-twice and oh m-my god M-Mikey I'm s-so-so s-sorry..."
Michael still did and said nothing. His eyes were dark and empty. Jeremy might have thought him dead, if not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
"P-please s-say something..."
Michael's eyes flickered shut, and he sighed, exhausted. He was wasting away. He was thin; he didn't even bother moving to get food anymore. He was physically exhausted from sitting in one place for so long. The line between sleeping and waking had blurred to become functionally almost nonexistent. He would slowly sink into a haze as the basement grew dark each evening. Sunlight filtered into the room each morning, parallelled by lucidity illuminating his brain. He hadn't attended school for at least a week. It had started simply, just being tardy for a few days in a row—easy enough to make an excuse for. But each day, he arrived later and later, until he finally didn't even bother going anymore.
Jeremy sat up, holding Michael up in front of him by the shoulders. His shoulders... They felt terrifyingly bony beneath the sweatshirt.
"Michael," he whispered, tears dripping off his nose and chin, "p-please wake up. I und-derstand if y-you d-d-don't f-forgive me, but p-please just wake up."
The barest ghost of a smile stole its way onto Michael's face. His voice was disturbingly weak when he spoke.
"Oh... Hey, Jere... Thanks for coming to see me..."
Hang on...
"M-Michael! Y-you c-can hear me, r-right?"
After an agonizing ten-second delay, Michael nodded faintly.
"W-when was the last t-time you ate?!"
A long, long pause.
Finally, a weak twitch of the shoulders and backwards sway of the head. Dunno. Don't really care.
Holy shit, Jeremy thought, horror-struck. This is an actual emergency! He gently pushed Michael back down onto the bean bag and hurriedly fished his phone out of his jeans pocket. Fumbling fingers opened the phone application and dialed 9-1-1, then call.
"911, what is your emergency?"
The words tumbled out before he had time to organize them, so they were badly marred with stutters and panicky hiccups.
"It-it-it's my f-friend, h-he-he, he j-j-just, h-his p-parents have b-been away on-n b-business this w-week, an-and I j-just f-f-found him s-sitting in th-the b-basem-ment and I d-don't know w-when the last t-time he ate o-or d-d-drank anyth-thing w-was, a-an-nd-d, a-and, u-um, w-we're at f-four th-three eight o-one t-two Ch-Cherry Court, an-and th-the f-front d-door is st-stan-sitting o-open and w-we're in the b-basement and-and—"
"I just dispatched an ambulance. Don't worry, help is on the way. Now, I need you to take two deep breaths, and then I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?"
The operator's calm, clear voice helped ground him. He took two deep, steadying breaths, then answered in a lower voice.
"O-okay."
"What are you and your friend's names?"
"J-J-I mean, I'm Jerem-my H-Heere—H-E-E-R-E—a-and my f-friend is Mic-chael M-Mell."
"How old are you each?"
"W-we're b-both 17," he replied, a slight shake returning to his voice.
"Alright, Jeremy. Is Michael breathing steadily? Is he conscious? Is there anything noticeably wrong with him?"
Jeremy struggled to get a hand inside Michael's sweatshirt so he could better monitor his breathing and heartbeat.
"H-he's breathing k-kinda sh-shallowly, b-but steadily," he said, his voice determinedly coherent. He cupped Michael's cheek in a shaky hand. He seemed to be right on the edge of consciousness. "H-he's, um, he's s—He's, um, uh, I th-think he's j-just b—He's n-not awake, b-but he's n-not out c-cold!! And he... He's so much skinnier than th-the last t-time I t-t-talked to h-him, a c-couple m-months ag-go... A-and h-he's c-cold, ev-ven th-though h-he's wearing his-s sw-sweatshirt."
"Can you carry him?"
"Y-yeah."
"Bring him upstairs, into the main house. It'll be warmer there, and it'll be easier for the paramedics to find you."
"O-ok-kay... I-I'm putting y-you on sp-speaker w-while I c-carry him."
"That's a good idea. You're doing great, Jeremy. The paramedics should be there in about a minute and a half. Has anything changed with Michael?"
"N-no," he answered, carrying Michael bridal-style up the stairs. He walked into the combined front hall/living room and deposited his friend on the couch.
"Okay. Keep me on the line until the paramedics arrive. How are you feeling? Are you dizzy?"
"Y-yes," he said, only now realizing this.
"Can you get a glass of cold water without leaving Michael's sight?"
"Y-yeah, hang on." He walked into the open-walled kitchen, glancing frequently back at Michael, and got a glass of ice water. He felt better almost immediately upon drinking it.
"Th-that r-really helps, th-thanks."
"The paramedics should be there in about 20 seconds."
"I think I h-hear the s-siren," he said, quickly striding over to the open front door. Soon enough, an ambulance swung into view, and he ran back to Michael's side.
"Yes, they've just arrived. Alright, I'm going to hang up now."
"Th-thank you s-so m-much," he stuttered.
"Of course, Jeremy. I wish you and Michael the best. Goodbye."
"B-bye."
The line went dead in his hand, and he hung up just as paramedics rushed in with a gurney.
"Ov-ver here!" he called, frantically waving then over. He clung to Michael's hand as they lifted him onto the gurney and wheeled it out of the house and into the ambulance. He heard the front door slam behind them, then the ambulance door close. He felt the jerk as they lurched into motion, speeding to the nearest hospital.
.•∴✬•✩•✬∴•.
84. I love you, Jeremy Heere. I don't know what else to say. I love you, I was your best friend for twelve and a half years, I stuck with you no matter how badly you hurt me, I accepted your apology after the SQUIP, overlooked the fact that you never gave me a chance to say I love you. It was always me doing stuff for you, now I look back on it. You never really did much for me once we hit high school. I guess I didn't really have any problems beyond being a social failure. And yet. Yet. Yet, I stayed at your side. I remained faithful. I didn't waver in my role. I supported you in your pursuit of Christine, no matter how much it hurt to see you look at her the way I wish you'd look at me. I was happy for you when you started dating her. I was sad for myself, but I was happy—so, so happy—for you.
And then you left me again, and I didn't know what I had done. Where did you go, angel? What happened that cut you loose from me? Was it Christine? Are you really just the kind of person who only needs one other to share his life with? Were you just dizzy with the emotions running through your head, and lost sight of me?
Because I never left you.
I still follow you in the halls, sit with you at lunch when one of your friends is gone. I still worry about you. I still think about you. I still love you, and it hurts like nothing I've ever thought to imagine. I love you. I love you. Have the words just lost their meaning? Do they have any significance to you? Do they... Of course they don't, huh. Because you don't love me. First and foremost, you're straight. Speaking of which, does Christine know? That you're trans? This will sound selfish and dumb: am I still the only one that knows? Other than your dad, obviously. Oh, jesus christ, Jeremy, I don't know if it's even possible to express how much I love you. I
Michael looked up. The door handle was being turned. The door was pushed open, and Jeremy took an enormous, wavering gasp and dropped the plastic cup of water he held. He darted across the room and had his arms around Michael in an instant. He didn't speak. He just squeezed the unhealthily thin boy tightly, like he was about to fade away.
Michael had no idea what to do, or even how he felt. He was so emotionally sapped at this point that he couldn't manage much beyond a weak flare of anger, underlaid by a faint glow of joy.
"Jeremy, I..." He trailed off. I what? What do I even say to him now?
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry... Oh, M-Michael, Michael..." Jeremy moaned miserably into Michael's shoulder. "Oh m-my g-god, Michael... W-what can I d-do t-to change the p-past? How d-do I f-fix w-what I b-broke? Oh, M-Micah, oh, my g-god..."
Michael flinched at the nickname. It only came into use in quiet moments, in whispers traded so closely they could feel each others' warm breath on their faces, in cuddles shrouded in the darkness of the basement with a blanket thrown over their heads.
"Jere," Michael whispered. He closed his eyes. A part of him wished more than anything that Jeremy would keep holding him, that he would never leave again. But another part of him, the part that hurt, wanted distance. An explanation. An apology. He wanted this, but at the same time, he knew it wouldn't be enough. Still, it would be a start.
"Jeremy," he started again, voice stronger this time. "Let go of me. Please."
Jeremy winced, but did as requested. He rubbed frantically at his eyes and sat down in the chair. His arms were straight, the heels of his hands on his knees. He gazed unseeingly downward. Michael stared at him, at a complete loss for words.
"M-Micah, I—"
"Don't—" he cut in sharply, then quickly stopped. In a softer voice, he finished the sentence. "...call me that." It hurts. It hurts too much to remember that I haven't heard you call me that for so long.
Jeremy nodded, pursing his lips and trying his damndest not to cry. He still felt sick at the idea of meeting Michael's eyes, so he kept gazing at his own knees.
"M-Michael."
The name's owner looked at him, but said nothing.
"I j—I m-mean, y... I'll des-serve anything you can th-throw at me. But f-first, just... I have o-one q-question."
"M—Jeremy... At least look at me, dude..."
Jeremy took a deep breath in and out, then looked up. He was biting his lip hard, fighting back tears. Michael just looked... Tired.
"What's your question?"
"W-why didn't you l-leave m-me when I l-left you?"
Michael smiled sadly, reached out his hand and traced the edge of Jeremy's jaw.
"Man, Jeremy... I wish I could've... It probably woulda hurt a lot less... But..." He shrugged helplessly, resting his hand on Jeremy's shoulder. He just... Wanted physical contact. Jeremy kept watching him. Michael closed his eyes, giving himself time to organize his thoughts.
"...I read the notebook," Jeremy eventually whispered. Michael found himself nodding slowly. Of course he'd read the notebook.
"So... So now you know."
"Y-yeah."
"And?"
"What?"
"I'm waiting for you to turn tail and run."
"W-what?! No, I—!! U-um!"
"Just go, Jere. I don't wanna hear it." He looked bitterly away from Jeremy, down at the rough hospital bedsheets. He let his hand fall back to the bed.
"B-but..."
"No."
"What—"
"Stop—"
"W-what if m-my answer isn't w-what you think it is?!"
Michael looked up, shocked and angry.
"You wouldn't. You wouldn't even go there—"
Jeremy stood up, cutting him off, and shouted.
"What if I s-said that the reason I b-broke up w-with Chris is b-because I love you?!"
He looked like he regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. His expression rapidly shifted from anger, to fear, to apprehension, before finally landing on something close to grief... And... A trace of... Hunger. He was biting his lip again. Staring searchingly at Michael's face. Inching closer.