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Any minute now, Michael will text back and Jeremy will feel something again.
When he’s not around, Jeremy forgets how to feel. Happiness has only ever existed with Michael, and when he’s gone, it’s a heart-wrenching, excruciating numbness. It isn’t sweet, nor is it anything covetable. Jeremy quite literally can’t live without him.
Michael used to say he’s barely even tried to. But now he has, all squip-induced and involuntary, and his mood still entirely depends on one other person, so what’s his excuse now?
He doesn’t know when it started feeling like this. If he had to guess, he’s been this attached since eighth grade, but he’s been like this his entire life. The person who always bears the brunt of his attachment has switched a few times; Michael is just unlucky to be the one that stuck.
Jeremy loves him. He loves Michael with a force so strong, it hits himself where it hurts. He’ll carry the hurt and the weight of being unmedicated if it means Michael will stay, as long as he gets to continue loving the most important person in his life. If Michael left for real, his world would just about end.
Look at him. He hasn’t gotten a text back like he was promised and he’s so hung up on that promise, he’s waiting hours with a sliver of hope. Hours without food to eat. Hours with the bedroom door closed, shutting out his family and the outside world. Hours without a single emotion other than occasional anguish and resentment—he switches up on Michael sometimes despite his love. Jeremy doesn’t know how he deals with it, all his dryness and bitterness and the “end of the world” mentality.
If he gets like this when Michael leaves for a few hours, he can’t imagine what it would be like if when he leaves for real.
At some point, he’ll stop wanting to die when Michael chooses to spend time with other friends. Maybe he’ll have the courage to like them. His awareness of all of his problems will one day become solutions, rather than a nagging in the back of his mind insisting he’s selfish for needing his best friend this much.
It’ll get better, maybe. Jeremy doesn’t know when, though—and maybe that’s his entire fucking problem.
So he sits and he waits for a text.