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As it does when many of Jeremy and Michael’s meet-ups happen, night has begun to overtake the weekend sky, painting everything around them in dim shades of blue and purple.
It’s quiet in the car and dark where they parked, since the bulb of the streetlamp they’re near has burned out. An empty soccer field sits in front of them, and the quiet, familiar and far off sound of 80s indie rock flows smoothly through the speakers, surrounding the two bodies in front row seats.
From the passenger’s seat, Jeremy sips from his to-go cup of watered-down soda. He’s deep in thought. Maybe, like his emotions and responsibilities, his rumination has consumed him.
Chapped lips part, a shaky question pushing itself through the gap. “Did you… ever love me?”
This was only supposed to be an innocent hangout. Nothing else. But sometimes Jeremy tends to blabber. Once a thought appears, it spills out, Michael’s way of subconsciously unfiltering him aiding the cause.
It’s full of regret as soon as it comes out, and even more so when Michael’s hands go for the steering wheel, eyes deliberately avoiding Jeremy’s. He grips it for just a moment.
“I did,” Michael admits, far more quietly than he normally would speak. “Sometimes I think I still do.”
Oh.
Oh…
So it’s good to know it wasn’t just for the touches and the kissing. They had to have been in it for the same thing: just each other. Yet somehow, Jeremy never figured that out. How could anyone ever love him?
Especially Michael, who is entirely too good for him in every way possible. Naturally, he’s a boy with the most gentle, alleviating hands, the kindest heart known to man, and passion enough to encompass them both. He loves like no other. It’s a love that just swallows Jeremy whole and takes and takes until he’s not entirely himself, but a happier, warmer version ready to feel; so easily turned into a man underneath a tender, unwinding touch. Michael’s the world’s best best friend, and he’s just as good of a partner.
So why did they break up?
The more Jeremy thinks about it, the less he’s over it all. Not like he thought he was. An aching feeling in his chest confirms his worst fear: of course he never stopped. It takes years for love that strong to dissipate.
“I’d be lying if I said I’ve fully moved on, too.”
Michael gasps. Soft, quiet; still one huge breath in at once. That truth lingers in the warm air. Jeremy can still feel the words reverberating, the vibrations from his vocal cords still not yet coming to a rest.
It hurts. He knows they’ll never have what was again, and they’ll always be stuck in this weird in-between of having something platonic yet something more. Knowing Michael in the way he does has done its damage to his heart.
Wanting him back feels selfish. Michael’s going through every emotion in the driver’s seat, and all Jeremy can do is wish he was his again.
He wishes to hold Michael the way he did months ago. He wants that mouth against his again, blessing him with inside knowledge nobody else gets to have. The intimacy is something that newly-miserable Jeremy strongly craves; and to have it all taken away, even everything they had before they got together, it’s the end of the world. He wishes they never went back to being just friends—an entirely false statement, too.
Nothing went wrong. So why did it end up this way?
“We should head back home,” Michael suggests.
And how is this supposed to be any better than actively being in love?
Jeremy nods. “I think so, too.”
Letting go of the breath he’s been holding, Michael attempts to relax. Like he wants to forget about this. Like he’s scared of falling back in love. Like Jeremy’s hurting him all over again.
And just as soon as the interaction happens, it’s over. Jeremy’s certain he made it up.
Sometimes I think I still do.
…Yeah. He certainly lives in a world of delusion.