Chapter Text
“i like you.” The note says.
Only three words. “i like you.”
It’s a notecard with the left edge slightly crumpled and a hasty, crooked crease down the middle. The writing is black washable marker pretending to be something fancier, crisp cursive written by a clearly practiced hand. Penciled guidelines are just barely visible, having been erased to hell and back and reduced to unnoticeable notches in the paper. Everything about the note seems like it has an incredible amount of thought behind it, like it was tried and tried and tried again before impulsively cementing itself and finding its way into his locker. Uncertain of the act, but certain of the message.
Needless to say, Jeremy is losing his shit. Currently, he’s seated at his usual lunch table, hunched over and head propped in his hands as he stares down at the note laid out on the flat surface. Dozens of emotions are clashing in his mind, each fighting for dominance over the others and accidentally drowning each other out in the process. He can feel his heartbeat getting louder and his face getting redder, self-consciously trying to hide his expression while not taking his eyes off the notecard even for a second. “i like you.” It says. “i like you. i like you. i like you.” Jeremy reads it over and over and over again, like maybe the text will change. Maybe it’ll give him some sort of an explanation, tell him if it’s real or some cruel joke, if it’s platonic or (more likely) romantic, and above all else, who sent it.
But nothing changes. There’s still no signature, and Jeremy knows he shouldn’t have thought the answers would magically appear. Knowing that doesn’t make it any better, though. He’s taking a deep breath in to steady himself when he feels the table creak as someone sits in the stool across from him. A flash of red moves in his peripheral vision.
“Jeremy?” Michael says gently, like he’s walking on thin ice, not wanting to make his best friend more tense than he already is. “Jer? Hey.” There’s a soft whooshing noise, and Jeremy can just barely see Michael sliding his hand across the table, reaching out to be a grounding force if he needs it. He does this when Jeremy seems upset and it’s sure that no one around is looking at them. They’ve learned that it’s a surefire way to settle each other’s nerves, and they both wish they could do it more often without attracting hateful attention from their classmates.
Successfully woken from his trance, Jeremy carefully reaches out to hold Michael’s hand in both his own, exhaling shakily. As always, Michael’s hand is slightly rough (“It’s my eczema! They get dry every time I wash them!”) and warm against Jeremy’s, which seem to be perpetually cold and clammy. It’s nice to feel warm, for once. To be held without being held.
Jeremy finally finds it in him to look up and at Michael, skillfully avoiding any potential eye contact. “Hi.” He squeaks out, the note and its contents still playing on loop in the back of his head.
“Hi.” Michael says, using the careful voice that he’s perfected over the years in case someone around him needs a shoulder to lean on. That someone is almost always Jeremy. “Wanna tell me what’s going on? You’re bright red, dude.” Michael’s face cracks into a tentative smile, one that he can take away at the first sign that he’s overstepped. That’s something he worries about doing, but never really does. Between the two of them, there’s almost no walls. Their lives, personalities, and interests flow together so well, there’s not much reason to worry about conflict. The number of fights they’ve had can be counted on one hand. But still, on bad days, they still find themselves wondering if they’ve done something wrong.
Jeremy turns his head slightly to the left, letting go of Michael’s hand in favor of covering his mouth with his own hand, eyes wide. With the other hand, he turns the note to face Michael and pushes it across the table. Once it’s in front of him, Michael picks it up in both hands and squints at the text like he’s trying to decipher some kind of code. “What is this?” He mutters, tilting his head to the side as if it might help him understand. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, lips slightly pursed. Jeremy pretends not to notice that one.
Confusion matching Michael’s, Jeremy turns back to face him, letting his hand fall from his mouth. “What do you mean, what is this?”
“I mean, what is this?! These are just a bunch of loopy lines.” Michael shrugs, still holding the notecard, before leaning back down to look at it. “It looks like the world’s most dangerous rollercoaster.”
Jeremy poorly suppresses a snort. “It’s cursive, dumbass. They taught us this in like, second grade. You seriously don’t remember?”
“In case you weren’t aware, second grade was many, many years ago, Jer-Bear.” Michael laughs as Jeremy’s face scrunches in disgust of the nickname. “Plus, I haven’t used cursive, like, at all. Everyone just does scribbles for their signatures, so what’s the point?”
“W-“ Jeremy starts, but starts trailing off, trying to find a reason for cursive but coming up blank. Michael stares at him expectantly, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows so far that it’s like they’re trying to crawl off his face. “Well?”
“Shut up, dude, I’ll think of something later.” Jeremy grumbles, narrowing his eyes in mild defeat.
“That’s a shit-ass excuse.” Michael says, prompting a smile and an amused nose exhale from Jeremy. “What does this say, anyway?” Still confused, Michael tilts the paper side to side.
Embarrassed, Jeremy keeps his voice low. “It says ‘I like you.’”
Michael tilts his head and smirks mischievously. “Sorry, what does it say? I didn’t hear.”
“You know what I said.”
“Say it with a little confidence and maybe I’ll believe you.” He’s still shooting a sly smile at Jeremy, like he’s pretending to be superior. It’s like he’s holding his reaction just out of Jeremy’s reach and laughing as he watches the poor guy try and get to it. Realistically, they both know that they’ll eventually get there, but that’s not going to stop them from performing their usual song and dance. Jeremy’s completely knocked out of his trance now, more focused on the spark he feels when he and Michael are bickering like this. Their playful teasing energizes him as if it were an electric charge, like he’s fully awake for the first time in ages. He’s sure that his best friend feels the same way.
“It. Says. I. Like. You.” Jeremy feigns annoyance, properly hiding the embarrassment he feels about this whole situation and receiving the note in the first place. As he speaks, he clutches the table with his hands and leans across it, making eye contact with Michael for the first time since he’d sat down. For whatever reason, he’s even more aware of the heat in his cheeks.
Something flickers through Michael’s eyes— concern, nervousness, fear— before he smiles so big that his eyes crease at the corners. “Oh my god! Dude! You got a love note!”
Hearing it said out loud makes it feel more real. It’s almost scary. “It’s a love note. I got a love note?”
“Dude!” Michael reaches across the table and shakes Jeremy back and forth excitedly. “You got a love note!! Someone likes you!!”
“Unless it’s Rich or somebody fucking with me.” Jeremy mutters, letting Michael move him. This is his current theory, that this is a source of humiliation. Yet another result of the bullying that seems to permeate every part of his life. Something this good couldn’t possibly be genuine. Because, really, who would like him of all people? The quintessential background character, nothing, nobody. Utterly unimportant. “That’s the only explanation that makes any sense. They’re gonna get me to meet them somewhere and laugh and probably beat me up.”
“Hey.” Michael frowns and stops shaking Jeremy in favor of playfully shoving him. “Dude. I know you’re being self deprecating right now, you’re making that stupid face again.” He points a finger straight as Jeremy. “Stop. Stop it. No.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Jeremy exclaims as he exasperatedly waves his arms in the air, quickly bringing them down so he can clutch the sides of his head, elbows on the table. “Come on, seriously, who would notice me?”
“All kinds of people! You’ve got this weird, dorky vibe, but it’s charming. I mean, I like you.” His frown breaks, quickly replaced by a smile that’s tinged with something that Jeremy can’t quite place. “So I’m sure other people do, at least from afar. Now THAT makes sense.” Michael firmly presses his index finger to the table to prove his point. “And if they don’t, they’re missing out.” He leans back and stretches, propping his legs on the bar under the table.
Jeremy pauses for a second, watching him. He’s used to the occasional barrage of compliments from Michael, but it takes him off guard every time that his friend is so open and willing to express how much he cares. It’s admirable. “Shut up.” Jeremy says, biting back a smile that Michael definitely sees but doesn’t mention. “You’re biased, man.”
“Yeah, but I’m also right.” He finally passes the note back to Jeremy, who picks it up and starts analyzing it again. “Dude.” Michael interjects, picking up the apple from his cafeteria tray. “Put the note down and eat your food. We have, like, ten minutes left.”
Jeremy pouts, but he knows that Michael is right, so he finally sets the note to the side and eats his lunch. For the first time in a while, he feels a flicker of hope that things might turn around. That if someone likes him, then maybe he’s worth being liked.
If that makes sense.