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A full week passes before Jeremy says anything about the kiss.
Which is good, Simon thinks. He’s buried it so far in the back of his mind that it seems to be the only thing he can think about, which is complicated, so not talking about it feels like the right move.
But with Lilette still working extra shifts, practices are still late, and Simon’s feeling a little more exhausted than usual. His feet are dragging and it’s taking him longer to get out of the changing room.
Simon’s mostly aware of when Maashous leaves, because Michael’s gone then too, and Robbie never lingers. But with everything going on lately Simon doesn’t realize who’s left until it’s too late.
When he turns to find Jeremy a few steps away from him Simon doesn’t even have time to think before he’s talking.
“You said you can’t,” Jeremy says. He’s talking quickly, like he’s worried someone else is going to show up any second and he’ll have to pretend they’re not having this conversation, or if he doesn’t say the words fast enough he’ll forget them. Props to Jeremy for waiting so long, really, seeing as he’s increasingly persistent on trying to spend time with Simon. He chose a good moment, at least. Quiet. Less open than a parking lot. Slowly, he inches closer. “Not that you didn’t feel the same or anything like that, but that you can’t.” He’s nearly desperate as he asks, “What does that mean, Simon?”
Simon can’t stop looking at Jeremy’s mouth.
It’s been a distraction since that afternoon. Simon will look at Jeremy’s mouth and forget what scene they’re in. Jeremy will lick his lips before he speaks and Simon’s entire rib cage burns with something Simon doesn’t want to describe as shame.
Simon’s mostly aware of it when he goes into rehearsal though, Jeremy’s mouth. He manages to get through scenes unaffected. When he prepares himself ahead of time, he can keep the voice of guilt in his head quiet. This here now, however, is so very close. Jeremy has a problem with personal space. And his mouth. It’s just there. And Simon is not prepared for this.
“I don’t know,” he says, because he has to say something and his brain is stuttering on what it should be. When he manages to shift his eyes from Jeremy’s mouth to his eyes, it isn’t any better. Those eyes are made for gazing. “It’s--it’s late, I have to go,” Simon says.
“I’ll stop,” Jeremy bursts before Simon can pull completely away. He looks ashamed of himself and Simon feels that in his stomach. It’s not a look he’s a fan of. “I’m…” he takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Simon, I’ll stop.”
Simon feels frozen to his spot. “What do you mean?”
Jeremy takes a step backwards, his eyes darting somewhere else. “Asking to run lines,” he says. “Hang out. It wasn’t--” he lifts his hand to drag it through his hair. “It wasn’t ill intentioned,” Jeremy says. “I mean it didn’t start that way. I think you’re a good guy. We’ve obviously got some important scenes together. Really, that was it. But I get it, with everything. I do. And it’s clear it was too much, so I’ll stop.” His eyes dart back to Simon and, yeah, not much better. They’re so wide and particularly devastated and Simon feels it turn his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’ve got my answer. I’ll stop pushing.”
He holds up his hands as if to say this was it. A last chance at a conversation that needs to be had, a real answer that needs to be given. A panic Simon can’t explain tightens in the base of his throat.
“Jeremy--” Simon stops him.
Simon should’ve let him walk away. Jeremy gave him a chance to end this. The pestering, the looks from across the stage. Instead they’re just looking at each other now and no one’s saying anything at all. The thought of whatever this is being over, no matter how much comfort lies with that in theory, Simon’s not ready for that yet.
Jeremy’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and Simon tracks the motion. “You say you don’t know what I want,” Jeremy says quietly. “But you are really hard to read.” There’s something almost endearing in his voice. It makes Simon want to smile.
Instead, Simon says, “You know I can’t. And I know you know what that means.”
Jeremy takes a step toward him. “Can’t and won’t are two different things,” he murmurs.
“Can’t is all that matters.”
Jeremy shakes his head. “Not to me.” He’s closer now, and that half of inch of height difference that they have is really making a difference. “Simon,” he exhales.
Never in his life has Annabelle saying his name made Simon feel like he does now.
Without meaning to Simon presses on his toes, and almost as though expecting it Jeremy bends to close the distance. There’s something about knowing they’re alone that makes Simon feel safer, and in turn braver, than that day in the parking lot. Something in him takes root and he reaches up, his hand on Jeremy’s shirt to grab hold. There’s a sigh in Jeremy’s mouth then, one that has Simon’s knees feeling weak, and the slightest shift has Jeremy pressing Simon back against the locker.
When Simon’s head thunks back, Jeremy pulls away. He’s close still, but they’re not kissing anymore. Just breathing, trading air between them. Simon keeps his eyes closed because he knows if he looks at Jeremy he’ll kiss him again. And he really shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.
But God help him, he wants to, so he cracks his eyes and meets Jeremy’s gaze. There’s something hopeful there, a kind of nervous energy that makes Simon feel twitchy himself. Before he can let a smile take him, Simon tips his chin forward, and that’s invitation enough for Jeremy to lean in again. He winds himself around Simon now, his arm around Simon’s waist, which is helpful because Simon’s beginning to find it difficult to stand. But when he feels Jeremy’s tongue against his lips something in him tightens, afraid, and Jeremy notices at once.
He pulls back and actually puts space between them this time. Simon drops his head against the locker again, letting out a long breath and looking to the ceiling. Clearly looking at Jeremy is dangerous. All of this is dangerous.
“I should go,” Simon rasps, and Jeremy pulls back the rest of the way to give him the space to leave. But he doesn’t. He can’t. “I’m just trying to get out of here,” he chokes out. Jeremy doesn’t move. “I can’t get stuck in this town, Jeremy, I’ve got to go.”
Simon squeezes his eyes shut but he feels as Jeremy moves closer again.
“You’re not gonna get stuck here,” Jeremy whispers.
“I might.”
His parents could keep him here. Or, better yet, send him somewhere worse. If Simon can fly under the radar until then, he’s golden. This whole Spring Awakening thing, of simply acting about having feelings for another man, Simon never thought it would be such a big deal. He can’t imagine his dad’s reaction to something like Jeremy.
“You’re not gonna get stuck here,” Jeremy says again, and he’s closer still. Slowly Simon opens his eyes and Jeremy’s right there again, warm. “You’re crazy smart and crazy talented. You can go anywhere.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Simon says. The compliment is noted and stored away for later. “My parents…” he trails off, and Jeremy nods. His eyes flicker with understanding and that’s what Simon needs. He needs Jeremy to understand the words that he’s too afraid to say. “Can’t,” he says again.
“Hey, I haven’t got any idea what to do either,” Jeremy rushes, and that hitch of desperation is back. Like he’s been dying to talk about it with someone. And--maybe he has. “My parents aren’t like your parents. I mean--they go to church on Sunday, but that’s it. I don’t know which way they’d fall, and it’s not like they’ve made their stance clear so I can prepare either way.” He shakes his head, eyes somewhere else again. “And even that it’s not--I didn’t expect to feel this way.”
What a moment for Simon to realize he’s not the only one afraid here.
It’s been easy to paint Jeremy as strong and proud and brave simply because he was more forward. It felt like maybe he knew what he was doing. Maybe feeling this way was something he’d been dealing with for a long time.
But now, seeing this shaking boy with just as much fear in his eyes as hope, Simon understands. Jeremy just wants answers.
“Maybe,” Simon tries one last time, “we’re just confused. Because of our characters. And the play.”
Jeremy takes another step closer, moving back into Simon’s space in a way that has his body feeling hot again. “You think that kiss just now was just because of our characters?” he asks.
That kiss just now. Which one? There were a few.
God, this is getting more dangerous by the second.
“Well I am confused,” Simon says. He tries to make it sound sharp, but his voice hitches.
“Yeah me too,” Jeremy whispers. “Me too. But this? Simon,” his voice drops again, “this feels good.” It does, Simon thinks weakly. “Tell me it doesn’t and I’ll walk away.” It doesn’t, Simon tries to say, but that’s a lie he can’t get his mouth to form. “So then what?” Jeremy pleads. “What next?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always say that.”
“Well I don’t!”
Jeremy exhales. “I want to kiss you again,” he says, and despite absolutely everything, Simon wants it too. “I want to kiss you without you--pulling away,” he says. “Or shutting me down, or--”
“Okay.”
Jeremy swallows. “Okay?” He pauses. “Is that what you want?” Still, no answer from Simon, and Simon watches the muscles in his jaw tense. “I’m not going to be that creepy guy, Simon. I need to know what you want.”
“Just here,” he settles on, needing Jeremy to know it means yes. “For now.” Simon thinks maybe the restriction to the boys changing room past midnight on a Thursday will upset him, but instead Jeremy smiles, and he nods, and when he leans in again Simon melts into the embrace.
Simon can’t help the comparisons. He thinks about Annabelle’s mouth, which is objectively a fine mouth, but nowhere near as gratifying as Jeremy’s. He thinks about that night in the steel mill, Annabelle on the ground beneath him, and the uncomfortability that settled in his stomach that night as he started to unbutton her shirt. There was a push of urgency then and a layer of anger and fear that Simon had been trying not to think about. But with Jeremy, there’s no push. There’s just this moment, these soft kisses, Jeremy’s hand gently framing Simon’s face.
That tangle of discomfort in his chest when he was with Annabelle isn’t here. There are nerves, sure, and fear still, but it’s different. All of the anxiety that comes with kissing Jeremy is smothered not with just the fact that he’s kissing Jeremy, but that he’s kissing Jeremy and it feels good.
Jeremy takes a step closer and the feel of his body against Simon’s is dizzying. He opens his mouth and Jeremy sighs, slipping in his tongue. Yes, this is good. This is the best. This is how it’s supposed to feel. The two of them settle in and time stretches on. For all Simon knows the sun has risen and they should just march right into school for class. He’s lost in the taste of Jeremy’s mouth, in the feel of his hands again Simon’s sides.
At one point Jeremy pulls back just a touch and it isn’t until Jeremy’s grinning into the next kiss does Simon realize why. When he shifted away Simon leaned in after him, chasing the kiss, the boy, just like Jeremy wanted. Jeremy’s smile makes it harder to kiss though, because his smile is making Simon smile too.
Jeremy huffs out a laugh and Simon exhales one too and then it’s just smiles and laughter and kisses between them.
“Run lines with me this week,” Jeremy murmurs. Simon pulls back enough to arch an eyebrow at him. “My house. My parents work late.”
“Run lines,” Simon echoes softly. His mind is a little hazy, and he knows it’s not just because it’s late.
Jeremy beams. “Mostly.”