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In all honesty, Jeremy should have seen this coming. Vipin has been badgering him to go out for months and, well, he can’t blame him. Jeremy hasn’t left his house or his office forever and hasn’t known the touch of grass since October. And really, who can blame him? He doesn’t go near Freetown Forest anymore. Not since that night…
You know the one where his dad was miraculously raised from the dead? Well, not technically dead but trapped between worlds? It doesn’t make sense to him either. Anne’s taking care of Thomas Bradshaw and Jeremy could care less.
He doesn’t want to see some twisted version of what probably isn’t his dad but he doesn’t really want to get into it.
Instead, he’s at the mall with Vipin, who’s a bright ball of sunshine.
“Why did you make me leave the house, Vipin? And to a mall of all places!” Jeremy protests.
Vipin sighs. “Stop being a bad doctor of pessimism, professor.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes. It’s not his fault he hates the world and everything in it. He’s just very tired. But not tired enough, apparently, where his emotional support PhD T.A. can drag him to the most humiliating of places. Said places include a t-shirt store.
Why the fuck are they in a t-shirt store?
“There has to be a rational explanation for this, Vipin.”
“No, sir, there isn’t. Consider this your birthday gift.” And Vipin does a ‘behold’ motion to the Make-your-own-t-shirt sign in the window.
“I don’t need a t-shirt,” he grumbles. “And there’s no reason for you to give me a birthday gift. You may be my only friend but don’t feel obligated to get me anything. You haven’t before.”
With his most serious face, Vipin stares him down. “You saved my life. Now suck it up and let me pay you back with a custom t-shirt.”
And so, Jeremy relents and dutifully follows Vipin inside. They’re instantly greeted by a chipper employee who looks like he’s had one too many energy drinks who shows them around, boasting about the quality of the shirts as well as their custom design maker to print on any t-shirts they’d like. It seems like a load of bullshit, in Jeremy’s opinion.
Seriously, twenty dollars for a shirt he’ll wear maybe once or twice as a joke all for the sake of, what? Payback for saving his friend’s life? Honestly, it seems fruitless. But it’s making Vipin happy, and it’s getting Jeremy out of the house so that’s a bonus.
And really, where else is he going to go in the middle of January? It’s cold.
He ends up deciding on a soft grey t-shirt and hands it to the employee who cheerfully asks him what design he’d like.
“Uh,” he says eloquently.
Vipin pats his shoulder. “I’ll take it from here, professor. I just needed the shirt you wanted with your size. Felt awkward asking you yourself.” And that’s where Vipin leaves him, speaking in hushed tones to the employee who rushes to the computer to get the design in.
Oh, so that’s how it is. Jeremy’s not allowed to see the design. Kind of rude of Vipin. How does he know that Jeremy will even like the design?
Who is he kidding. He probably will, knowing Vipin’s keen skill for picking the right gifts for the right people.
The whole process doesn’t take long. He and Vipin are both in and out in the span of maybe ten minutes. So they spend the rest of the afternoon grabbing expensive mall food and Jeremy ends up with a new scarf.
It’s been a good day. He’s kinda glad he was forced out of his hermit hole.
He drops Vipin off at his apartment complex and Vipin hands him the bag with the t-shirt inside.
“Here you go, sir,” he says cheerfully.
“Vipin, for the love of God, please call me Jeremy for once.”
Vipin grins. “Only if you wear that shirt tomorrow night. There’s a small get-together and you need socialization besides me.”
He hesitates. Jeremy hates socializing. He’s got his students and he’s got his mom and he’s got Vipin. He really doesn’t need anyone else.
“Who’s going?” he asks through gritted teeth.
The look Vipin gives is nothing short of feigned innocence. “Oh, just the usual. Olivia, some colleagues, Joe…”
“Will Anne be there?”
Vipin’s face contorts in discomfort. “Psh! No! Absolutely not!”
Jeremy’s not convinced but he reluctantly tells Vipin he’ll be there and drives away, gripping the steering wheel the entire drive home. The Massachusetts winters have never been kind. They’re dry and bone-chilling and fucking awful and Jeremy hates it.
Ice on the roads has him paranoid, despite the lack of cars. He’s gay, what can you expect?
Finally, Jeremy ends up at home, relieved, and very tired. The bag is held tight in his fist, dreading the contents inside but secretly excited to see what Vipin’s come up with.
He ends up ordering takeout, staring at the bag on his coffee table. He needs to stop being such a coward and just open the damn thing. With a violent motion, he ends up swiping it and shoving it open, tearing at it a little.
The fabric is gentle on his fingers, and he unravels it, barely even reading it before letting out the biggest sigh he’s ever let out.
“Jesus Christ, Vipin,” he groans.
On the t-shirt, in big bold letters reads:
IT’S A FUCKING OWL
One of these days, he’s going to pay Vipin back for this. It’s hilarious and obviously in good taste but how is he going to explain that to people?
Is this what Vipin meant by socializing?
In all honesty, he loves it. It’s a great gift from who he considers to be his best friend.
But the t-shirt is slightly wrong. So he gets up, grabs the nearest marker and scribbles in three letters and a symbol.
Now it’s perfect.
The air outside Vipin’s apartment complex is crisp, but not cold enough to bite. Underneath multiple layers, he’s wearing the shirt and is slightly regretting every choice that’s led him here.
But he promised Vipin he’d go so here he is.
His finger stabs the buzzer. Vipin’s crackled voice echoes through the speaker, telling him to come up. The door unlocks and Jeremy musters up every ounce of courage his social anxiety can manage and enters, the warm air blasting on his face. There’s laughter echoing from the end of the hall. Jeremy’s stomach tightens.
Get it together, Bradshaw , his thoughts project.
It’s just Vipin and other people he knows. It’ll be fine.
His hand shakes while turning the handle, the door creaking open. “Hey, Vipin!” he calls, hoping the shakiness in his voice doesn’t get caught.
“Hey, professor!” greets his T.A. Jeremy lifts his brow in disapproval. “ Jeremy ,” Vipin corrects, looking uncertain like the word is weird in his mouth.
Either way, Jeremy feels a little more relieved now that he’s here. Anne is at the kitchen counter, lifting her beer in greeting, along with Olivia who looks lovely and cheerful. Joe is looking very good right now and is it hot in here? Jeremy needs a drink.
There’s also a couple of his colleagues there as well, both in the history department. He says a quick hello to them and shrugs off his coat, setting it on the coat hanger along with his scarf. Vipin snorts.
“Nice shirt, prof-- Jeremy. I like what you did with it.”
Jeremy smiles, because it was exactly the reaction he wanted. Anne snickers into her beer. Despite his anger with her, he’s somewhat glad she’s here. And he’s also grateful his dad isn’t here, either. It’s just weird now. One day he’ll form a new relationship with his father but not today.
Today, he’s happy to be laughing with people he cares about. And although he’s had to explain the story behind the shirt quite a few times into the night, he’s having fun.
And for all of you out there wondering what the hell Jeremy wrote on that shirt, well:
NOT
^
IT’S A FUCKING OWL