Chapter Text
Jeremy's POV
~
“Sure adds to the ambiance, doesn’t it?” Michael smirked, gesturing to a rock with a green spray-painted penis.
“Haha. Have you found a good spot yet?” Jeremy called from further down the tunnel. In a satchel he wore across his chest, this soft clinking of spray paint cans echoed against the stone walls; a background track to his speaking.
“Not yet…”
Jeremy kicked a piece of gravel from under his foot and started walking closer to Michael. A snail trail of barren ground was left behind him as he dragged his feet one by one.
“Aye! I found the perfect spot!”
Jeremy lifted his head to peer at Michael. He had both hands in the air, his baggy sweatshirt falling below his wrists. On his right was a wall with a small amount of blank space. Jeremy grinned and ran ahead, careful not to let any of the sprays fall out.
Once Jeremy was in range of Michael, Michael pulled his arm to bring him closer. Jeremy tripped over his feet and landed in the boy’s arms. Instantly resituating, he stood straight and stared at the wall in front of him. Probably the only blank spot in the entire tunnel. Jeremy turned to look at Michael, who was beaming at him. Jeremy mirrored his expression.
This was the Lilith Eisenhower tunnel, a tunnel dedicated to a girl who disappeared far into the tunnel (or so they say). Ever since, people have come in and graffitied the entire inside of the tunnel. People would spend the night in the tunnel and say that they experience the soul of Lilith in the tunnel, and feel the presence of all the people who’ve made their mark on the underpass.
Jeremy and Michael think it’s bullshit. So they took it upon themselves to sneak out and spend a night at the tunnel, as well as try to graffiti the place themselves.
“It’s perfect! I really thought there wasn’t any extra space.”
“I know right? Anyways, it’s almost night, we need to set up camp.”
Michael tossed his cyan backpack on the floor, the faded ‘riend’ on full display.
“... Aren’t you gonna unpack?” Jeremy questioned.
“Nope! Graffiti first!”
“But you just--” Michael placed a finger over Jeremy’s lips to silence him.
“No time for bickering, dear Jeremy. ‘Cause, it’s time to GRAFFITI!”
Michael was slightly high at the time. But Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to think about that. Only about the shiver of hot air that ran through his body when Michael touched him. A ripple of sensation shot into his face and pooled in his stomach and brain. His cheeks felt hot, and his hands went all clammy. He simply couldn’t understand why
Michael shot forward and pulled the satchel off of Jeremy. He rifled through it and pulled a red can out, tossing the bag to the floor; a small puff of dust billowed from under it.
Coming to his senses, Jeremy shook his head, and went to grab a can as well (blue, of course).
This is not the time to be weird! He thought. I’m just here to hang out with Michael. Nothing else.
“What do we write?” Michael asked. His can was uncapped, and he’d already shaken it. A small stream of paint dripped onto his hand from the side of the can.
“Uhh… I didn’t actually think about it.”
Michael put one hand on his hips. “This was your idea!”
“Nuh-uh! You wanted to spend the night here!”
“But you wanted to graffiti!”
“Oh, shove off, Micha,” Jeremy grumbled, elbowing a snickering Michael.
Michael stiffened and exclaimed “I got it! We do our initials!”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “That’s basic.”
“What else would we do?”
“...”
“Fair enough.”
Jeremy shook his can and pulled the lid off, chucking it to the side. He held the can up in front of the blank space and pressed down lightly on the cap. A stream of blue liquid shot out, dusting the wall. The searing toxic smell of the paint burned this inside of his nose. He pressed down firmer, and a hard line of paint appeared on the wall. He made a ‘J’ first, then an ‘H’ next to it. “Your turn.”
Michael stepped forward and made identical initials a few inches away, this time with two ‘M’s instead. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“No particular reason,” Michael said, twisting one of his feet against the gravel. Jeremy raised an eyebrow, but turned around nevertheless. This distinct sound of spraying filled the cave for about 10 seconds.
“‘Kay, turn around now.”
Jeremy turned around again, and in between their initials, was a red and blue plus.
“Really? We’re not little girls, Micha,” Jeremy joked, smiling. Michael just shrugged and grinned.
“One sec,” Jeremy muttered. He turned around so that he was facing away from Michael. He was sure if he stared at Michael any longer, his heart would burst from his chest, and kiss Michael and the mouth. Secretly, that plus was everything to him. It gave him hope that maybe, maybe, Michael felt the same way…
That’s so stupid! Why on earth would he like me? I’m just his best friend… and I-I’m fine with that… right?
“Yo Jer, whaddaya doin’ over there?”
“Uh, umm, nothing! A-all good now!”
Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yep!”
“O-kay…” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, I set up the sleeping bags, sit your ass down ‘cause I brought Nintendo 3Ds and weeeeed,”
Jeremy grinned at plopped down next to him on the blue sleeping bag. Michael tossed him a console and ripped open a plastic bag. He grabbed a lighter and a joint, tossing the lighter to Jeremy. “Light it for me.”
He stuck the joint in his mouth and held it between his teeth. He gestured with his hand for Jeremey to light it. “And why should I?”
Michael groaned and rolled onto his stomach, face-planting into his sleeping bag. “You’re no fuuun,” he said, drawing out the U. Jeremy snickered and leaned onto his stomach too. “Fine, fine.”
Michael lifted his head up to glance at Jeremy. “Yay!” he exclaimed, settling into an upright position again. Jeremy rolled the dial on the lighter and after a few tries, a flame finally arose. He lifted it up to Michael’s mouth and held the flame under the joint. It caught fire, blackening the end. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut as he basked in the sour smell that rose from his joint. Jeremy settled back against the wall.
He took a moment to examine Michael’s drowsy features. His impossibly smooth tan skin, the moles next to and above his mouth, the way his long eyelashes curled upward. The way his dark brown hair lay perfectly fluffy above his head. Jeremy’s cheeks felt warm as he gazed at his best friend. He didn’t know what he did to deserve someone like Michael.
A sleepy smile crossed his face. Michael opened his eyes and drowsily smiled back. “You should go to sleep, you like death, Jer.”
“Wow, thanks,” Jeremy deadpanned. Michael let out a breathy laugh.
“Seriously though, you haven’t been sleeping much. We’ll have plenty of time in the morning to do stupid shit.”
Jeremy sighed. He was tired. He let his eyes close for a moment and breathed in the smell of weed. The smell of Michael next to him: daffodils and soap. A clean, refreshing scent. He let his body sink into the sleeping bag until he was on his side, facing Michael. He let his breath even out but didn’t fall asleep quite yet.
10 minutes had passed, and he appeared sleeping. Just as he was about to drift off, he felt a soft hand sweep some of his hair behind his ear. A sweet humming filled Jeremy’s ears that sounded suspiciously like “Go Tell It On The Mountain”. A soft sigh was heard soon after. The crinkle of a sleeping bag and a soft wet feeling on his cheek. The shuffling was heard again, and then it was silent.
Jeremy didn’t dare move a muscle until it was 5 minutes later. He didn’t think much during those five minutes. When he did, it was mostly incoherent screaming. He turned onto his back and opened his eyes, more awake than ever. Shakily, he lifted up a finger to touch the slight wet spot on his cheek.
Had Michael… kissed him?
He thought back to the moment. Something soft brushed against his skin, then pressed down slightly, like a stamp marking wax.
Could this mean Michael liked him back? A small smile came upon his lips.
He was much to tired to think about that night
Michael had kissed him.
…
“The body of the boy found in the forest by the Lilith Eisenhower tunnel has been identified as Michael Mell, an 18-year-old senior in high school.”
Jeremy had watched the clip over and over again, grimacing every time the headshot of his best friend appeared on the screen. In his hands, he held two photos. One was a Polaroid of his summer vacation trip to the Mell family cabin, and the other was from the police reports. Of his best friend’s body, bruised, with two broken legs, and a gaping hole in his stomach. A blurred fly was seen standing on the corpse. A small dribble of blood fell from Michael’s torn lip.
He spent those nights sobbing. Because Michael had kissed him
Michael had kissed him.