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It’s quiet in the dorm this time around. The numbers on the bedside clock are fuzzy, and Jeremy doesn’t have the energy to retrieve his glasses to read them.
His eyelids are heavy, but his mind is active. Sleep has yet to come to him, but he doesn’t mind. Not this time. When Michael is holding him like this, warm in the comfortable silence, he wants to stay awake as long as possible to relish the sensation of being his.
It’s so late, however, that all Michael does is mindlessly scroll with one arm wrapped around Jeremy, pulling him in closer by his waist. There’s nothing between them but warmth, legs tangled under blankets, stuck together among the sheets. It’s nice to be this close to his chest, so close to the heart that pounds within. With the rise and fall following every deep breath and exhale, Jeremy moves. It’s the closest he’ll ever get.
Since the start of this… thing, whatever it is, all boundaries have gone out the window. Before, they had cuddled, and before, they were affectionate, but their new proximity is different. It’s electrifying. Michael blesses him with the tenderest of touches, fingers ghosting his thigh, and Jeremy is allowed to glance at his lips and want more than what was ever given to him with no hesitation or fear. He’s allowed to want. And if he asked, Michael would give him such a kiss.
Intimacy at its finest; that’s them. For the first time, it can be quiet and Jeremy won’t have to question if he’s loved or not. Depression still gets him, but Michael brightens up even the darkest, shittiest days. He’s a light so warm and blinding, it’s easy to forget anything is bad. His embrace heals stitches without a single scar left behind.
And god, does Jeremy love him. Since the beginning of time, he’s loved Michael. What’s not to love? It’s Michael, who’s seen his body bare, has tended to him in his most vulnerable moments, and returned every kiss with nothing but passion and love. Even after everything, he’s still here.
He’s not going to leave because Jeremy loves him.
And Jeremy feels loved.
And as far as he knows, their hearts beat for each other.
“Shit,” Jeremy whispers. “Are we in love?”
Michael stops scrolling for a moment. “Oh,” he says simply. “Shit, dude.”
Yeah, he couldn’t have put it into words more fitting.
“I mean,” Jeremy begins, glancing up at him, his fingers pressing further against the fabric of Michael’s shirt. “I know I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years.”
“No, yeah,” Michael nods, perplexed, as if it wasn’t at all common knowledge. He redirects his gaze toward the ceiling. For a moment, he seems stuck, dazed and confused under the warmth of the string lights as he attempts to process… well, everything. Whatever the fuck Jeremy just sprung on him. “Fuck, Jer, why’d you get all emotional on me?”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy wheezes, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I was just thinking about you, and… and us.”
“Us.”
“There’s an us.”
“Fuck. Oh my god.” In the midst of his groundbreaking realization, Michael brings Jeremy closer with one arm, hitting the sheets with his free hand. Pure emotion. Pure excitement. From here, Jeremy can practically hear the cogs turning in his head, and he begins to wonder how he got so lucky.
Overexcited fingers grasp the sheets in a familiar motion, and a smile makes its way to a confounded face. Finally, those deep brown eyes meet Jeremy’s: assurance and comfort and admiration all at once. “I’m in love with you, too.”
“So that settles it?”
“Yeah,” Michael responds. “We’re in love.”
All Jeremy can do is smile. “Cool.”
(He’s so not cool about it.)
For a moment, that’s it. They’re in love and in bed, and everything is so warm and vibrant. Jeremy loves being this close to him. He loves being in love.
But still one question remains unanswered.
“And, uh… what does that make us?”
There’s some fear left over, making the words quiet as they come out. But for the most part, Jeremy isn’t scared anymore. He doesn’t even tremble when he asks.
“Whatever you want, Jer,” Michael tells him.
“I wanna be yours.”
It’s cheesy as hell, sure, but it’s true. He’s never been able to say it before, but the words have always stuck to the tip of his tongue, even before he knew it himself. Every second he spends breathing, fidgeting, staring at lingered lips, just existing, fully living— is a second he wants to be Michael’s. Shit, he wants to scream it from the rooftops: Michael, please let me be yours— and he wouldn’t even be embarrassed.
Michael isn’t a mind reader, but they both know it’s what Jeremy wants.
“Then you’re mine,” he decides, his hand traveling up to Jeremy’s curls. “All mine.”
All mine, Jeremy’s brain echoes, and his entire body feels so warm, it’s absolutely insane. He hates how Michael can say these things so nonchalantly, getting him so flustered and full of love he just begins to burst at the seams and fall apart in his loving hands. God, he’s wanted to hear Michael say he belongs to him since sixth grade; so it hits especially hard, especially since it’s so late at night, since sleep deprivation has a tight grip on him and Michael feels safe and he’s home.
And Jeremy is his.
“Cool,” he snorts at saying it all over again. Sheepish and at a loss for words, as always.
Michael huffs out a laugh, carding his fingers through Jeremy’s hair, gently unwinding the coils of his curls one by one. “And I’m yours?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy agrees, “of course. For as long as you want.”
You’ve been mine, he doesn’t say. But god, he sure does want to.
Jeremy is set on forever—but if Michael only wants to be his for tonight, then that’s fine too.
With the hands in his hair and his body comfortably cradled in warm arms, however, he thinks it’s safe to say forever doesn’t seem entirely unrealistic for them.