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Jeremy coughed up into the toilet, his sinuses burning as he felt a rush of stomach acid climb through his throat. He couldn't help the horrible wretching and gagging that came through his mouth, it sounded almost as terrible as he felt.
This was not the ideal place to be having a post-SQUIP side effect-induced migraine, if there was an ideal place at all. He had been invited over to a New Year's party that Chloe was throwing. He didn't want to go, he didn't really care for Chloe at all.
But Michael got invited too, and Rich wanted them both to come, he swore it would be fun. Jeremy hadn't had a drink since the Halloween party, he didn't know this would happen. He gripped the edge of the toilet bowl, letting out a pathetic whimper after spitting the last of his stomach contents into the bowl. He sat back, wiping the tears he couldn't hold back from spilling.
He was so embarrassed, he didn't know how to get out of the house without anybody seeing. He could barely walk without eating shit immediately after standing up. He’d thrown up down the front of his shirt, too, while trying to make it into the toilet bowl.
He braced his arms against the toilet, resting his head in them. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like his brain was being split down the middle, like his skull was being cracked open. He couldn’t even turn the bathroom light on, he was sitting there in the dark. The only thing illuminating the room was the open blinds that sat in front of the window.
His eyes continued to pour tears, he couldn’t bear the sound of the loud music. It worsened the pounding in his head, as did the smell of his own vomit. He’d tried to alleviate the symptoms. He’d pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, he’d tried sitting in a dark room with his head down, he’d tried lying down. Nothing helped.
He worried for the inevitable moment that someone would knock on the door. And he wouldn’t be able to answer, he wouldn’t even know what to say. They’d see the lights were off, that the door was unlocked, and go in. The thought of anyone seeing him this way was haunting and impending.
He lowered himself back onto the floor, his sweaty body pressing against the cool tile. He curled in on himself, trying to soothe his churning stomach in some way. He brought an arm under his aching head, shutting his eyes tight.
Jeremy hadn’t remembered the knocking on the door, nor did he remember the bright lights being turned on. He didn’t even remember hearing a voice call to him. But he did remember the feeling of being scooped up by his best friend, Michael.
Michael rushed towards Jeremy, his eyes widening. What happened? Did he get spiked? Michael was sick with worry. He quickly shut and locked the door behind him. He didn’t want Jeremy to get embarrassed, and he didn’t want to draw attention to this. Jeremy wouldn’t want that, he knew.
He crouched down text to him, his hand sliding under Jeremy’s flushed cheek, the other hand moving to brush over his side. He tried not to panic, but Jeremy wouldn’t even open his eyes. Did he even know he was there?
“Jeremy? Jere, what happened?” He prompted, trying to shake him awake. He didn’t know if he was sleeping, or if he had passed out. But he knew he had to get him out of the house.
Jeremy hadn’t responded, but his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Michael moved his arms, cradling Jeremy’s shaking body against his own. “C’mon, Jere, wake up,” Michael talked softly to him, holding him close.
Jeremy began to wince at the lights being on, squinting up at Michael through teary eyes. He brought his hands to his face, trying to block out the light.
He felt Michael hug him closer. He could tell he was speaking, but he just couldn’t make it out. Michael shook Jeremy again, he didn’t understand why he wasn’t answering.
“You’re worrying me, I can’t help if you don’t answer…” Michael murmured to him, running a hand through Jeremy’s sweaty hair. Jeremy let out a huff at his hair being stroked, shaking his head.
“Micah, my head,” He mumbled. He hadn’t heard Michael’s question, but he knew Michael was there, at least. “Your head?” Michael inquired, his eyes searching Jeremy’s face. He finally noticed the vomit clinging to the front of Jeremy’s shirt.
“Oh, Jere… C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He practically cooed at him, his thumb brushing over Jeremy’s cheek. Jeremy hadn’t heard that either, but he could comprehend being lifted and carried. He shoved his face into Michael’s shoulder, trying to shield himself from the light and noise that was threatening his throbbing head.
Michael unlocked the door, freezing as he realized what he’d been doing wrong. The lights were making everything worse, he was having a migraine. Michael backed away from the door, setting Jeremy down on the sink’s counter. Jeremy let out a dissatisfied whine, his hands coming up to hide his face again.
Michael quickly shut off the lights, plunging the room into darkness again. He shrugged off his sweatshirt, putting it around Jeremy’s shoulder and pulling the hood over his head.
“Does that help?… Can you hear me?” Michael asked him, keeping his hands on Jeremy’s shoulders. He didn’t receive a reply. He tried to pick up Jeremy again, but he couldn’t maneuver him into a bridal carry. So he brought Jeremy’s legs around his waist and picked him up off the counter.
Jeremy collapsed against him, pressing his forehead against Michael’s shoulder again, his arms hanging loosely around his neck. “Micah?” He asked, half not trusting that it was actually him. Maybe he was just hallucinating.
“Yeah? We’re leaving, I swear. Everyone’s almost gone anyway. We’ll be able to slip out easily. We can go through the back,” Michael felt as if talking was pointless, he was clearly incoherent.
“Your house?” Jeremy asked. Michael shook his head, a little confused, “Uh, no, Jere. We’re at Chloe’s, remember?” Jeremy nuzzled Michael’s shoulder, “Your house.” He repeated. Michael furrowing his brows. He wished he knew what Jeremy was asking. He wanted to make it better.
“My house? What about my house?” He asked. Jeremy was quiet for a moment, then, “Go.” Michael nodded slowly, trying to figure out what he meant. He opened the door, walking out into the hallway. They were upstairs, he didn’t know how Jeremy managed to go all the way upstairs, but he was impressed.
Jeremy, on the other hand, was frustrated with his own inability to form coherent sentences. He wanted to go over to Michael’s house. He didn’t want to go home. His dad was still up, he assumed. And he’d lecture Jeremy about parties, about drinking. He’d become so protective of him, but it didn’t help anything. Jeremy just felt trapped around him now, or at least, when it was too much. If he found out he’d had a migraine at this party, he’d never be allowed to go to one ever again… Plus, he really just wanted to be around Michael. He was good at fixing these things.
Michael made his way down the stairs, trying to avoid the living room, and succeeding. He was able to get out from the back door, walking around to the already open gate, and around to his car. It was cold outside, frigid. Jeremy shivered against Michael, clinging weakly to his body.
Michael held him tight as he walked through the lawn, the iced-over grass crunching beneath his feet. It didn’t take long to get to his car. He stopped in front of it, unlocking the back door and laying Jeremy down across the seats.
“We’ll be home soon, Jere, I promise.” He grabbed a spare blanket from his trunk, draping it over Jeremy. “I’ll fix it , I swear. You’ll feel better soon,” Michael spoke quietly, trying to comfort him. He stroked his hair again, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his temple.
Jeremy curled up against the seats, staring up at the back of the driver's seat. He hoped they were going to Michael’s house. That’s all he wanted.
He didn’t remember the drive. It was quiet and short, neither of them lived too far away from Chloe. He shut his eyes, waiting for Michael to say or do something. The car wasn’t moving, it was parked.
Michael practically ripped his seatbelt off, opening the door to the back of his car quickly. He pulled Jeremy close to him, holding him against his chest for a moment before lifting him into his arms again.
He’d brought him to his house. He was worried Jeremy’s dad wasn’t awake, and that they wouldn’t be able to get in. So here they were at Michael’s house, walking up his driveway and to his front door.
He opened the door, he knew it was unlocked. His moms left it unlocked for him when he stayed out later, even though he obviously had a key. He locked the door behind him, walking down to his room in the basement.
Jeremy felt himself being laid down on a bed, the scent creeping into his nose, allowing him to quickly identify this room as Michael’s. Thank god.
He lay there, afraid to open his eyes. He didn’t know where Michael was, but he didn’t feel him near. He wasn’t a good judge at that right now, though, he couldn’t feel anything but the pain wracking through his body.
Michael frowned at Jeremy. He was standing next to the bed, but Jeremy hadn’t even replied. He thought for a moment. A bath would help, he knew. But he didn’t really know how to go about that. Would it be weird for him to sit in a bathroom with the lights off, watching his best friend bathe?
The thought made him undeniably a little excited, but he wasn’t sure that’s what Jeremy wanted. He sat down on the bed next to him, shaking his shoulder again.
Jeremy squinted at Michael through the low lighting of his bedroom, his eyes still watering. “Hey, Jere… You said baths help your migraines, right? Do you want one?”
Jeremy slowly processed the words through his head, running through them over and over again. A bath? With Michael? What did that mean? “Uh, bath?” He asked, his voice hoarse and rough.
“Yeah,” Michael nodded, moving to wipe away the tears that had fallen away from Jeremy’s face, “Like, I could get my mom’s bath salts. Do you use those? What helps?” He was leaning over Jeremy now, his hand still cupping his face.
“Oh, yeah… Bath?” Jeremy mumbled out. Michael frowned. He wanted to help so bad, but Jeremy was so out of it. “Okay… Okay, I guess we’re doing that.”
He stood up, throwing the blanket from his car back over Jeremy. He turned the lights off, moving too quickly to turn on the ones in the bathroom and keep the door closed.
“Just lie here. I’ll be back,” Michael told him, walking back towards the bathroom and running the warm water. He rushed to his parents’ bathroom, relieved to find both of his mothers asleep. He didn’t want to explain this to them, he had it under control.
He quietly slipped the bag of bath salts. It was melatonin and lavender scented. He didn’t really know what that meant, but he assumed it would work. His mom used it when she got migraines.
He grabbed a bottle of Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet, a bottle of magnesium pills, and a cold compress from the freezer. He had no idea if it would work, he was just hoping it would help at least a little bit.
Michael sighed, walking back into his room, his heart aching at the sight of Jeremy. He was curled up on the bed, holding his head in his hands. He still needed a change of clothes, he was technically getting throw up on Michael’s blanket and bed. But he’d change the sheets, it didn’t matter. Not when Jeremy was hurting like this.
Michael walked to his own bathroom, he was lucky enough to get his own because he was an only child. He turned the water off, pouring in the bath salts into the steamy tub.
He found a chamomile-scented candle on the counter in his kitchen earlier. That was what he decided to light, using it as the only light source in the bathroom. He switched off the lights, walking back over to his bed.
“Jeremy? Are you awake?” Michael asked, moving to pick him up again. Jeremy let out a sleepy wince, his eyes starting to water again. Michael felt awful. Had he been sleeping? He hoped he hadn’t woken him up.
“I ran you a bath… You can sleep in the tub if you want.” He told Jeremy. Again, he didn’t get a response. But it was okay, Jeremy pressing his cheek against Michael’s chest was enough of an answer.
He set Jeremy down on the toilet, helping him out of his clothes. The candle's small flame cast golden flickering light across Jeremy’s skinny body. Michael would’ve started drooling by now had it not been for the fact that he had to fix Jeremy’s migraine.
After he’d finally gotten all of Jeremy’s clothes off, he lifted him up and helped him into the water. His shirt was already soaked, but he hardly noticed.
Michael slipped the cold compress over Jeremy’s forehead and eyes, bracing the back of his head with his hand as Jeremy leaned back.
“Okay… Just soak for a little, I’ll be back soon,” Michael murmured, taking Jeremy’s hand and squeezing it tight. Jeremy weakly squeezed back, his hands shaking.
Michael made quick work of changing his sheets and blankets out for clean ones. He grabbed clothes from his own closet for Jeremy to borrow, and threw his dirty ones in the washing machine. Michael was exhausted, it was getting later and later, and his body yearned for sleep. But he held out, Jeremy came first.
By the time Michael returned to the bathroom, Jeremy had fallen asleep. His body was limp in the water, his head resting against the wall of the tub. Relief crashed over Michael like a soothing wave as he watched the steady rise and fall of Jeremy’s bare, pale chest.
Michael took gentle care to run his hands through Jeremy's hair in tender, circular motions. He attempted to wash the sweat from his scalp, pouring water on top of his head in a steady stream of warmth. Michael's hand was cupped over Jeremy's dimly lit eyes, the candle flickering little light across the bathroom.
Jeremy sighed in his sleep, beginning to stir under the feeling of having his hair washed. This was the first time Michael had washed his hair, he didn't know how to feel. He wasn't turned on, surprisingly. He was normally turned on by anything Michael did lately.
Jeremy felt calm for the first time that night. He relaxed into Michael's touch, leaning his head back. It was then that he really took in his surroundings. There was a cold compress around his eyes, and he couldn't see anything. But he could smell lavender and a hint of chamomile floating around in the air with a soothing aroma.
The bath water was warm as it softly lapped at his torso and arms. His hair dripped soapy water onto his shoulders, and onto his face, he could smell the shampoo, the droplets falling back into the tub with soft, slow drips.
Jeremy could feel Michael's hands slowly work down his body, washing the grime and sickness from his skin. He kept nodding off, waking up, and discovering Michael cleaning a different spot of his body in light, scrubbing motions. Jeremy's stomach had begun to burn in guilt, he didn't want to make Michael do this.
He hoped Michael wasn't doing it out of obligation, because he felt like he had to. He already did what Jeremy considered was too much for him. Jeremy didn't think he deserved someone as devoted and kind as Michael for a best friend.
Jeremy turned his head towards Michael as he felt his hand brace the back of his neck. "Jeremy?" Michael called quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you awake?" He slowly lifted the compress from Jeremy's eyes, resting it on his forehead.
Jeremy blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark lighting of a single flame. Had Michael done all this in the dark? "H-hey..." Jeremy murmured, only keeping one of his eyes open. The pressure in his head had finally been getting better, but it still pounded against his skull in a dull throbbing.
Michael frowned at Jeremy's expression, moving the compress back down over his eyes. "Just sit here for a few," Michael suggested, lifting Jeremy's hand to hand him pain relief medication. Jeremy felt the pills in his palm, lifting them to his mouth and swallowing them back with a cup of water Michael guided to his mouth.
Jeremy hadn't remembered falling asleep after that. But apparently he did. By the time he'd woken up, he was getting lifted out of the water by Michael. "C'mon, Jere... I'll take you to bed ," Michael spoke to him quietly. He awkwardly wrapped Jeremy in a towel, setting him down on the toilet seat.
Jeremy's head fell against Michael's chest, a towel running up and down his back to dry away the droplets of water that clung to his skin. Michael let his hand wander to Jeremy's hair again, running his fingers through the wet strands.
Michael was unsure if Jeremy was awake, he didn't want to disrupt his sleep. He figured he was, though, based on the way his breathing had changed. Michael blew out the candle, carefully slipping the compress off Jeremy's eyes again.
Jeremy looked around to see that it was pitch black. He looked up at what he assumed was Michael, his cheek brushing against Michael's shirt. Jeremy let out a bothered groan as the towel ran over his hair. Any movement to his head at all felt like a hammer being slammed into his skull.
"Sorry, sorry. No more towel," Michael quickly pulled the towel away from Jeremy's hair, placing it back around his shoulders. Michael was very certain that Jeremy couldn't walk, he was so certain that he didn't bother asking. He lifted Jeremy off the toilet seat, feeling his legs wrap around his waist.
"Where?" Jeremy mumbled, his arms around Michael's neck. His body slumped against Michael's grasp, his voice a hoarse murmur. "We're going to bed, remember?" Michael told him, his voice matching Jeremy's hushed tone.
Jeremy lifted his head in disorientation. He didn't exactly know where he was, the darkness confusing him. He was out of it, the painkillers making him drowsy. Anything beats having to keep the lights on, though. So he just clung to Michael and allowed him to carry him.
Michael lay him down on his bed, the clean sheets and blankets warm against Jeremy's skin. He lay on his side, whimpering in pain as his stomach cramped. He didn't exactly feel nauseous anymore, it was hard to after he'd thrown up everything earlier already.
"Jeremy," Michael cooed at him, holding a clean set of his own clothes. "Work with me here," He teased him lightly, pulling the shirt over his head. Jeremy lifted his hips and pulled a pair of boxers up over his crotch, repeating the motion for a pair of sweatpants.
Michael sighed as he dropped down onto the bed beside Jeremy. He was exhausted, but he was glad Jeremy finally seemed to be in less pain. Michael nudged Jeremy with his elbow lightly, trying to get his attention.
Jeremy, on the other hand, was already asleep. He'd helped himself to the warm blankets, wrapped in Michael's comforter with his head on his pillow. Michael couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he felt Jeremy's forehead rest against his shoulder. Michael's grin softened as he stroked Jeremy's hair. "I love you, you know that?" He told Jeremy, who didn't reply. But Michael was certain he could feel the same love as he felt from Jeremy. He put an arm around Jeremy, rubbing the space in between his shoulders. Michael, too, dozed off, his arm keeping his best friend close.
Jeremy stirred around an hour later, feeling the warmth and comfort of Michael's hand on his back. He sat up, bracing himself with shaking arms. His body leaned forward, and Jeremy found himself lying down on Michael's chest, nuzzling his aching head under Michael's chin.
Jeremy hid his face against Michael's neck, attempting to block out the morning sun that he could trust would rise in a few hours, just as it always did. Thankfully, he had Michael there to shield him from its bright rays, just like he always would.