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The air was thick with smoke and chilled by the window that opened to draft it out. A TV glowed brightly, illuminating the room in a headache-inducing, LED blue. But it wasn’t the light of the screen that made Jeremy’s head hurt with a dull throb. No, it was the inhalation of weed for nearly 3 hours. It was the tugging on his hair, the tension formed as he furrowed his eyebrows. It was the lack of air he was getting in between making out with his best friend.
Best friend wasn’t an understatement, or at least not to Jeremy. They were good friends, they had been for 13 years now. And it just so happens that they figured out they liked to kiss each other. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just to experiment. Neither of them had ever had a boyfriend. Well, Michael could’ve, but he rejected Rich. And Jeremy used to have a girlfriend, but they broke it off. So it was fine. They could do this with no strings attached and act as if nothing happened. Or at least that’s what they pretended.
Jeremy was sitting on Michael’s lap, his legs on either side of his. He had his arms wrapped lazily around Michael’s neck, his pupils blown wide, his eyes bloodshot from the weed. He was smiling and giggling, insanely and concerningly relaxed. They’d probably smoked too much, they weren’t really keeping track until their smoke got so thick their eyes burned.
Michael’s hands moved back and forth between Jeremy’s thighs, lower back, and sides. His fingers snaked up and down his body, occasionally climbing up to his hair. He’d tug on it lightly, pulling it just enough to crane Jeremy’s neck back. They weren’t thinking, they were both covered in lovebites from their jaws to their shoulders. But that would be an issue to solve later. When they were sober.
They weren’t watching the time. They’d been sitting in that position, making out, grinding against each other for any kind of friction or sensation. It was Michael who noticed how late it had gotten, or rather, early. He’d heard the door to his mom’s bathroom close, meaning one of them was awake and getting ready for work… that meant it was around 5 A.M.
“Ohh shit,” Michael slurred, huffing out a breath after pulling away from another kiss. “It’s like, way late.” Jeremy just stared at him, a smile plastered on his face as he looked at him. Michael smiled back, beginning to push Jeremy onto his back. “Did you hear me?” Michael murmured, his hands rubbing up into Jeremy’s chest as he leaned over him, pressing another kiss to his swollen lips.
Jeremy didn’t reply to Michael’s question, he just kissed back, his smile causing them to break apart again. “We need to turn off the TV, my mom is awake,” Michael told him, half aware he was practically talking to a wall, half forgetting he was even speaking. He’d couldn’t exactly remember why he laid Jeremy down, but he assumed it was for something fun.
Jeremy's head fell against Michael’s shoulder, his arms moving around his neck again, trying to pull him down. It didn’t take much to convince Michael. He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips first, quickly advancing to licking at his bottom lip. Jeremy’s mouth opened as a moan escaped him shortly after Michael bit down. His tongue slid forward, lazily exploring Jeremy’s mouth.
An intoxicating metallic taste mixed with weed was shared between them. Their lips were bruised and split from the constant collision they'd subjected each other to.
One of Michael’s hands stayed resting on Jeremy’s side, the other coming up to cradle the back of his head. They paused their kissing, Jeremy’s breath quick and shallow. His eyes were barely open, but he was still smiling. And at Michael, nonetheless.
“I think…” Michael began, his thoughts quickly escaping him as he stared down at his best friend, his fingers beginning to scratch at the back of his head. “You should sleep in my bed.”
Jeremy hummed, his lips still curved upwards as he looked at Michael through lidded eyes. “Well, I think that…” His words trailed off, and he didn’t finish his sentence. Michael had climbed off the bed. Jeremy sat up, confused and suddenly more aware. “Micah? Why?” He watched him walk to his closet, hiding his box of weed back in its usual spot.
Jeremy frowned, hugging his knees. “I thought you said-,” He was cut off by Michael shaking his head and lying down next to him. “We can do more tomorrow, maybe,” he murmured, crawling over to bed and pulling the blankets back. “But I wanted to shotgun,” Jeremy told him, staring at him blankly.
“Tomorrow,” Michael repeated, sighing as Jeremy climbed back into his lap, sitting on top of the blankets. Michael slid his arms back around Jeremy, pulling him close. “We can do it again next weekend, too,” he reassured.
Jeremy sighed dramatically, “Guess going to your car during lunch today wasn’t exciting enough for you,” he joked. He rolled off of Michael, lying next to him.
In the car during lunch today, and every other day, really, they’d find a secluded, private spot, and make out. This had been going on for 2 months. They’d done it in bathroom stalls, ducked on the floor of Michael’s car so no one saw them. They’d skipped class after lunch and driven to an old parking lot. In that old parking lot, Jeremy could sit on Michael’s lap in the reclined front seat, dry humping and grinding against each other. And no one would see.
“It was,” Michael told him, lying down next to him. The TV blared, the harsh lighting casting shadows across their flushed faces. Jeremy crept closer to Michael before climbing back on top of him. He began to push him off, but after he got pouted at, he let it go. If Jeremy really wanted to keep making out, Michael wouldn’t complain.
But to his surprise, Jeremy just curled up on his chest, his cheek pressed against his shirt. “You tire me out, Micah,” Jeremy murmured softly. Michael’s hand found its way to Jeremy's hair, massaging softly. He sighed, practically melting on top of Michael.
“You’re better at this stuff than Christine,” Jeremy slurred, starting to fall asleep. Michael stayed quiet, his intoxicated mind going over the words over and over. Better than Christine?? He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, or if it was just something they’d both understand to be true.
“Thought you said the thing between you and her was water under the bridge,” Michael pushed. Jeremy shrugs his slumped shoulders, “Yeah, but I can still tell you you’re better at it.”
They fell into a silence, Michael’s vision beginning to fade as he relaxed into the familiar cushioning of his bed beneath him. He’d been falling asleep in this same position more often than not recently. The comfort of his own bed, the stinging haze of smoke hanging in the air, the open window blowing a breeze. Jeremy Heere leaned against his body, their lips bruised and swollen.
Michael’s heart beat against his own chest, the feeling of his best friend being so near, so frequent, in sleep. He was so utterly blown away by him, and so hopelessly attracted. His hand slid down the curve of Jeremy’s ribs to his waist, his fingers digging into the skin beneath his shirt.
Jeremy lifted his head, squinting at Michael. A large, sleepy smile grew on his face as he pushed his head against Michael’s cheek. His hair tickled Michael’s face as he lifted his other hand to stroke his hair.
The repetition of this motion was what lulled Jeremy into sleep, his head resting in space between Michael’s neck, where it met his shoulder. His body was lax under the blanket draped over the both of them, heavy on top of Michael’s body.
Michael didn’t mind, he held Jeremy close, eventually curling himself around him. He too drifted off, cradling the other boy close, their bodies tangled together in a consistent need, like an ember that never stopped smoldering.
The morning grew on, the golden light streaming in through the window, casting bright beams across Michael’s room. Jeremy had his cheek pressed against Michael’s chest, his leg between both of Michael’s. Michael had his hand nestled in Jeremy’s hair, his other arm secured around his waist.
Michael’s mom had been texting, telling him the TV is too loud, that he can’t have it on all night, that she could smell the weed. But Michael was in a deep sleep, comforted by the weight of Jeremy Heere passed out in his arms.