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The smell of smoke clouded the air and burned his eyes as Michael stared listlessly at the back garden from where he was seated on the porch.
A pile of things waited beside him. Waiting to be burned. Waiting to destroy every connection he had to the person he didn’t want to think about. Waiting to see if he had the guts to actually do it.
Michael let out another puff of smoke, joint lazily resting between his fingers. He felt the sting of smoke as a pleasant buzz threatened to overtake his system.
He hadn’t gotten this high in… god he couldn’t even remember. The most he did these days was a light buzz to keep himself going and stop himself feeling. Getting any deeper always made him think too much.
Blue eyes clouded over, glassy and hazy as they met his own.
God he just wanted to forget , was that so much to ask? Michael took another long drag from the joint.
Wheezing laughter and a freckled face .
He surveyed the pile of things in his ash can. His fingers itched to press the burning edge of his joint to them, set them ablaze. He couldn't do it.
Magic the gathering card from his birthday no one remembered. That was right after Mama and Ina had a big fight, they were too busy to think about him. But he had remembered, of course he had.
Blue eyes sparkling, small fingers pressing the hand-made card into his palm, messy crayon spelling out ‘Best friends’. A high-pitched voice echoing “I’m always gonna be here for you Mikey”.
The weird Al concert - the first they had ever been to. Their parents surprised them with the tickets one day after school, Michael still has the songs they played saved on his phone, even if they're kind of lame.
Music blaring, lights blinding, brown hair cut short for the first time, wearing ‘boys clothes’, he looked so free, lanky limbs flailing around to the song, an excited yell of “This is so cool!”.
Twelve years of trinkets. Twelve years of memories.
Twelve years of Jeremy.
…Was he seriously about to throw away mementos of his own life just because he's mad at Jeremy? That’s stupid.
But he’s mad at him and he wants to do something stupid about it and it's not like he can get revenge on Jeremy for what he did, it's not like he can hurt him back even if he wants to.
God this would all be so much easier if-
“Michael!” came a yell from ahead of him, interrupting his train of thought. The boy instinctively hid the joint behind him, looking up to see “Mr.Heere?” What the heck? “What are you doing here?”.
Mr. Heere was indeed standing there, in his backyard, hands on his hips, wearing an oversized bathrobe and ( sheesh ) no pants. Michael couldn't remember the last time he’d seen him outside of his house, or seen that determined look in his eyes. “We need to talk about Jeremy,” he demanded; and wow suddenly Michael doesn't care about what he has to say anymore!
“Sorry”, he tells him unapologetically “Jeremy and I aren't friends anymore”. The words taste bitter on his tongue.
Mr. Heere though, had apparently finally regrown a spine and refused to accept that as an answer. “Do you love him?” He demanded. Which. What?
Well of course Michael loves him, they’ve been best friends for twelve years ( loved . He reminded himself. Loved him). It’s normal to love your friends. Natural! Expected! Totally common!
But. But why did the words Jeremy and love together make him think of blue eyes shimmering with mirth and a freckled face bathed in moonlight and brown hair splayed out in a glorious halo and soft lips pulled up in a softer smile and wheezing laughter and clumsy fingers and gangly legs and stammered whispers and the pile of things beside him waiting to be burned?
Why did butterflies well up in his gut and why did the nausea and guilt paired with loser get so easily overpowered by the ache in his chest in his heart that yearned for pale fingers intertwined with his own?
Why did a whisper of a promise of friendship and that stupid stupid laugh echo in his ears when it was the last thing he wanted to hear?
Why did Jeremy consume his every waking moment, why was he so ready to throw away the hurt and run back to him, why was he so ready to say he loved him, of course he loves him, of course he loves him. In every way imaginable.
Michael had never thought of Jeremy in a romantic light before. Not seriously anyway, it wasn’t something he thought would ever be a possibility. Jeremy was his everything, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to date him.
But now, after being apart for so long, after the comforting bond between them had gone sour, he wanted nothing more than to hold Jeremy in his arms, to forgive him at the simplest apology, to intertwine their fingers that fit so well together, to press their lips together and never let him go.
There was no denying it, he was in love with his best friend.
“This isn’t the time to be sitting around burning incense” Mr. Heere was still talking, oblivious to his earth shattering realisation “I need your help Michael, Jeremy needs your help”.
Michael took a moment to respond, still reeling from his discovery, but as Mr. Heere’s words sunk in, he felt his heart grow heavy. “I’m not what Jeremy wants,” he admitted quietly.
“But you’re just what he needs” Mr. Heere insisted “Please, son, I may not have been there for Jeremy when I needed to be, I may not have been the best dad, but if there’s one thing I know about my kid- it’s that he loves you with all his heart, and if there’s anyone who can save him from himself, it’s you”.
Jeremy loved him. He had forgotten that. It didn’t seem like he did, given by how he had been acting recently. But still, he knew it was true, Jeremy loved him; and Michael loved him back. In a lot of ways.
“Fine” he sighed eventually “Fine. I’ll help. But, first, you’ve gotta do something too. There’s a Kohl's down the street from here, go get some pants. We’re not saving Jeremy while you’re in boxers and a bathrobe”.
Mr. Heere smiled “You drive a hard bargain son”.