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Jeremy Fitzgerald was a loser.
Yes, a complete and absolute loser. Although he was average height for his age most boys at his middle school towered over him anyways. His father left him and his mother, and now he lives in a one story house with his mother and his fat ginger cat named Fred. His grades were high which made him a nerd and he was in band playing the percussion. And if this wasn't enough, he was completely and utterly attracted to boys. Not like anybody knew or anything, but that didn't mean nobody had their suspicions. In fact, he was pretty sure kids at school already knew and that's why he was called a plethora of colorful words at school. All of this is why he was such a fucking loser.
Jeremy ran a hand through his tangled curls, the slight tug on his scalp causing him to wince at the small sting. He silently cursed his ancestors for the mess of frizzy curls, preventing him from having a decent hair day. He leaned onto the chipped wooden bench, so messed up that if he were to just touch it a thousand splinters would dig into his hands and he'd cry himself to sleep. He already cried himself to sleep enough, thank you very much.
He was waiting for his mother to come pick him up, and while she ran his hand over his hair in the morning, fretting, "Ay mijo, tu cabello es un desastre." She had told him that she would be working later than usual and that she would arrive around 6:00 to pick him up. School ended at 3:15. So Jeremy had to wait approximately two hours and forty-five minutes. Great.
Jeremy hated going to school, but he went anyways because he had to, and he couldn't just bother his mother. She had to work long hours to support his ungrateful ass. He was surprised she even gave him money to continue dying his hair blonde, even though the original hazel of his hair always made itself known at the roots.
Jeremy let out an exaggerated groan, just wanting to get out of here already. He was fourteen years old, he could walk home by himself. But his mother didn't believe so. It's not that she didn't trust him, she just didn't trust the neighborhood. Like leaving her kid in front of a school for some time was safe, but oh well.
He pulled out his percussion pad and drumsticks from his backpack and bounced his leg, lightly tapping the drumstick against the sides of the pad, clicking his tongue. He immediately closed his mouth, his orange braces very bright and very noticeable. He should have just listened to his mother when she told him to pick another color.
A sudden burst of loud cackling made him look up, his honey brown eyes narrowing.
The laughter had come from Michael Afton, the tormenting asshole. He shoved one of his friends and waved goodbye as he watched his friend enter his father's car. Michael turned and shook his head, still laughing as he made his way down the street.
He had to walk home today, which was really lame since he lived a good twenty minute walk. He refused to take the bus and he was too embarrassed to ask for a ride. His father, William, confiscated his bike because of his poor grades, and he has to bring up those three Ds into at least Cs to get it back. Yeah, right. As if Michael could give a shit.
He looked up and shielded his eyes with his hand from the blinding Sun to just scope out the area. No convenience stores nearby, what a shame, none of his other friends seemed to be there, and there were no sixth graders to torment. Bor-ing.
Michael's eyes then suddenly landed on a boy that seemed to be his age, and then woah.
What the fuck.
The boy was of pretty average height and had brown skin scattered with freckles. His faux blonde hair was curly and looked so soft, and Michael saw him bite his lip and okay, what the fuck, that definitely made him feel something, and-
CLANG.
Michael couldn't even processed what had happened until he found himself on the burning sidewalk, staring up into a clear blue sky, a sharp throb on his forehead. He blinked once, twice before groaning and hoisting himself up.
"What the hell?" He muttered, touching his forehead.
Michael then heard a sudden burst of laughter across the street and looked up.
Jeremy was in shambles. He had looked up at the last second to see this stupid brunette boy slam straight into a street pole and fall on his ass. He slapped a hand over his mouth, and snickered.
"HEY!"
His eyes shot back open to see the brunette stomping his way over to him, and if they were in a cartoon Jeremy was certain that would be seen puffing out of his ears.
"What's so fucking funny?" The brunette towered over him. At least, until Jeremy stood up. The other boy was still taller, maybe by an inch or two. Not that intimidating.
"Oh I dunno, maybe the fact that you slammed into that pole and fell right on your ass? Pretty embarrassing dude." Jeremy smirked and crossed his arms.
Michael's face burned with embarrassment and with how Jeremy glowed in the summer heat. He wanted to take back everything he had said almost immediately, wanting to say, "You're so pretty please say you like boys and please go out with me."
Instead it came out as, "Oh sod off you fucking dolt."
Jeremy blinked at him before letting out a closed lip laugh, spit flying before he busted into proper laughter. "Pfft, sawd awf ya fockin' dolt." He snorted, shaking his head. "Wow, you've really got me shaking in my high top white Converse that my mother bought for me."
Now it was Michael's turn to blink. "What."
"Whatever. Fuck off dude, I'm trying to get some practice on my percussion pad."
"Why don't you go get some girls, yeah?"
Yeah, right. "How about you go get some."
"I can get some with ease." Michael tilted his head and rested his chin on his fist as if in true deep thought. "You? Ehhh, not so much."
Jeremy found himself shivering at the intense look of ocean blue eyes piercing into him. What the fuck. "Screw you, you're not a looker either. Your hair looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks."
"Quit projecting your sad life onto mine. You look like you haven't had a healthy meal in years."
Ouch. Don't dish what you can't take, Jeremy. "Fuck off. Let me play in peace."
Michael gave a satisfied grin before looking around. "Hey…You got any parents?"
"What's it to you?"
"Just askin'. Would explain a lot if you don't."
Jeremy frowned. "Uh, yeah. Mi amá is gonna pick me up later."
"Why don't you just walk home?"
"She won't let me." Jeremy blushed. "And I…Don't really know the way home."
Michael snorted and poked Jeremy's forehead. "Awww, poor blondie doesn't know the way home and is waiting for his mommy to pick him up and then feed him his little baby bottle."
Jeremy fumed at the jab — Who does he think he is? — and poked Michael's forehead even harder, the bruise already forming causing Michael to yelp and cover the bruise. "It's called having a loving parent, which you don't seem to have."
Michael burned at the sharp pain on his forehead and at the burn he was just served. Who does he think he is? "Fuck you, you arsehole."
Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Oh, thank God, that got you riled up. Go on, off you fuck. I've asked again and again, let me play my percussion in peace before I kick your ass."
"Kick my ass- yeah right. How about off you fuck before I shove those drumsticks up your ass."
"Maybe I'd like that."
What.
The wind blew through the two boys as they stared at each other. Michael gaped, his pale skin turning undeniably red, eyes wide. Jeremy remained stoic with his arms crossed, and he silently thanked his ancestors for the melanin to not see him blush, but his face definitely heated up.
Peace and quiet. Jeremy had finally got what he wanted.
He sat back down on the bench and tried to play on the pad again, desperately wishing for the brunette to fuck off, but there he stayed, mouth and eyes wide open like a stupid fish.
Until finally, "W-What?!" Michael spluttered.
"You heard me." Jeremy muttered, ducking his head down.
Michael swallowed and rubbed at his heated face. "Um- Oh, okay- I- Yeah, okay, okay."
He bounced up and down on his toes and pulled at his red cheeks, and Jeremy couldn't help but smile. The sight was adorable really, until he realized how fucking gay that was and looked back down.
Michael patted his cheeks and let out a hot breath and looked at Jeremy. He clenched his fists and slowly sat beside the blonde.
Jeremy startled for a second, his eyes flicking up to Michael's, but he sighed and didn't do or say anything. They stayed in awkward silence until-
"Um, so, what's your name?" Michael asked, clasping his hands together.
Jeremy's eyebrows furrowed, but he answered. "Jeremy. Jeremy Fitzgerald."
"My name is Michael Afton."
"Cool."
Wait. Afton?
"Hold on. Afton, as in, William Afton? Fredbear's Diner?"
Michael sighed. "Yup."
Jeremy gaped before shooting back up, his spine cracking due to his previous shrimp posture. "Really?!"
Michael leaned backwards, for Jeremy had just gotten way too close. "Uh-huh…"
Jeremy patted his feet on the ground and grabbed onto Michael's shoulder, leaving Michael wondering What the fuck?
"Oh my God, okay, okay, listen. I fucking love it in there. And I know I'm like, too old for it or whatever but like? The animatronics? The shitty pizza? The arcade games? The merchandise? Dude, it is like my dream."
"Shitty pizza?" Michael squeaked at the very warm hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, but like, it adds to the charm, y'know? And besides, it's like, so cheesy, pun intended, and it's honestly such a feel good place. I love it."
"It's…Alright."
Jeremy snorted. "Yeah, but you're the owner's kid. You've been there like thousands of times."
"One of the owners. Besides, every kid in Hurricane has been there anyways. Nothing special."
Jeremy's smile dropped. Michael immediately sat up.
"Um, well…I haven't been there." He mumbled, hands sliding off of Michael's shoulder and into his own lap, beginning to pull at his fraying denim shorts. "Mi amá never had enough money, and like, it's not expensive but it wastes too much cash. I can see the inside and I can just eat the pizza from leftovers my relatives have. So I've just never been…"
Michael looked at the suddenly ashened boy, his heart breaking off in pieces as each word fell out of Jeremy's mouth. It was a childish place obviously made for younger children, and he had stuck his nose up at it once he turned eleven. He was mature now. He didn't need to be with his stupid siblings and the stupid bear and stupid bunny. Every kid went through this. But what about the kids who didn't even have a chance to be childish before they became "too mature?"
Jeremy huffed out a laugh and rubbed his eyes. "A-Anyways, it's stupid. Sorry, just ruined the mood for no reason-"
"N-No! It's fine, Jeremy. Seriously."
Jeremy looked up and smiled. "You can call me Jer. I-If you want."
"Jer. Yeah okay, Jer." Michael smiled back.
It was such a dumb thing to smile over, being able to offer someone a nickname and being able to call someone such. Nicknames held weight however. They showed that people were close enough to know the other by a shortened version of their name, even though they knew the person on a bigger scale than they could ever imagine. Or maybe the two boys were just overthinking it. They definitely were. They noticed their stupid grins and looked away, Jeremy bunching up his clothes into a fist while Michael rubbed the back of his neck and clenched his hand.
Jeremy's eyes glanced at Michael nervously. Pale skin beaded with sweat, his brown locks sitting on his shoulders, which were being slightly pulled at. Jeremy's eyes trailed downwards to Michael's open backpack, to which he saw what seemed to be a sketch.
"You draw?" Jeremy asked.
"H-Huh?" Michael looked back and followed Jermey's trail of vision, pointing at his notebook. "Yeah, is that a drawing-?"
"Ah-! I mean, wha?" Michael snatched his backpack and fumbled to zip it up. "N-No- I mean, yes but like, it's not like I draw- I just-"
Jeremy lightly placed a hand on his forearm. Michael immediately stilled. "Dude, Michael, Mike, can I call you that?" Michael nodded, "Cool. Mike, I'm not gonna make fun of you for drawing. I think it's really cool. Can I see?"
Michael breathed, staring into honeyed eyes that watched him pure honesty in them. He gulped and shut his eyes tight, letting out a hot breath. "Y-Yeah."
Michael unzipped his backpack and pulled out his notebook and a pen and pencil, handing the notebook to Jeremy. The blonde excitedly flipped it open, gasping at the first page. "Oh, dude, is that Fredbear? That's so freaking cool! Looks exactly like him."
Michael flushed at the praise, clasping his hands together again. "T-Thank you."
Jeremy flipped the page to a colored drawing of Spring Bonnie and his eyes widened. "What! That's like, incredible!" Jeremy clicked his tongue. "Y'know, I draw a bit too, but I'm not that great-"
"You do?" Michael nearly shrieked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Y-You do?"
"Yeah, but like I said, not that great."
Michael tried to contain his excitement and looked down. "Could I…See?"
"Hm? Oh sure yeah, just don't expect much." Jeremy laughed and unzipped his backpack to pull out his notebook and handed it to Michael. The brunette flipped it open and smiled at the first page. It was a sketch of Spring Bonnie, and it was pretty decent, however- "It's good, but you've got the ears a bit wonky."
Jeremy groaned. "Yeah, I knowwwww, I just dunno how to fix it."
"I could show you!" Michael grinned. Jeremy gave him a wide eyed look and the brunette frowned and looked back down. "I-If you want."
"Oh dude, hell yes!" Jeremy pulled a pencil out of his shorts pocket and pulled the notebook slightly towards himself, causing him to scoot closer to Michael. The taller boy gasped as their sides pressed together and then breathed deeply before coughing.
"A-Alright, so basically when drawing those kinds of ears they gotta be long. I know it'll look weird if you make it long, but trust me that's how it works."
"Hmm, okay." Jeremy opened to a clean page and lightly drew a line. "Like that?"
"Kinda, just a bit longer."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "That's gonna look really weird."
"I know, just trust me- Here let me show you." Without thinking, Michael placed his hand atop of Jeremy's and both boys flushed and What the fucks were definitely said in heads filled with fuzzy feelings all around. Michael huffed and gripped Jeremy's hand firmly. "H-Here, more like this." He adjusted the line and as soon as he was satisfied he let go immediately. "Uh, yep. That's it."
"T-Thanks." Jeremy mumbled, trying to focus his mind on what he had just been taught but Jesus the feeling of Michael's hand, the warm calloused skin nearly made him freak out. God he wanted that hand to be on his own again.
Michael was still very much blushing and he pulled at his burning cheeks and patted them. Deep breaths Michael. Deep breaths.
"Thank you again. I do appreciate the help and keeping me company." Jeremy said, the heat on his face very noticeable. Michael nodded and played with his fingers.
"Y-Yeah! No problem."
They gave each other nervous grins before Michael suddenly perked up.
"Oh!" He dug back into his backpack and Jeremy watched as he pulled out a walkman. "Uh, I have this if you wanna listen to music."
"No way, you have a walkman?" Jeremy grabbed it and observed it, beaming. "Dude, I might have to steal your life. Your life is amazing- You're amazing."
Michael swallowed and let out a puff of hot air. He slowly raised a hand and cupped Jeremy's cheek.
Jeremy stopped grinning. His eyes widened. Michael noticed them flicker down to his lips and then back up. Michael could feel Jeremy's breathing on his mouth.
Do it, pussy.
"Are you gonna kiss me?"
"What?" Michael whispered.
"You're gonna kiss me, aren't you?" Jeremy whispered back.
"U-Um. Yeah. Is that okay?"
Jeremy's eyebrows narrowed and then he rolled his eyes. Michael's stomach dropped, until he felt very warm hands on his waist.
"Not if I kiss you first." Jeremy murmured, and then he leaned in, quickly swallowing Michael's gasp of surprise.
Heat. They were burning. Their lips slid against each other for a hot minute, nearly killing them of heatstroke. Michael rubbed Jeremy's cheek with his thumb while Jeremy squeezed his waist. They stayed like that until they both naturally pulled away at the same time for air.
They both just looked at each other, Jeremy's warm honey eyes staring into Michael's ocean blue and vice versa. They just stared until they both started to laugh, and Michael handed Jeremy an earbud.
The two boys could hardly process the music that poured into their ears, entirely fixated on each other. Michael threaded his fingers through Jeremy's and squeezed, the other boy squeezing back. Jeremy rested his head against Michael's shoulder, and Michael allowed it. They stayed like that, snug and close, smiles never leaving their bright faces, knowing they would see each other everyday.
"Hey," Jeremy grinned, "You just kissed a fockin' dolt."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Michael grinned back.