Work Text:
My dear lover,
Jeremiah,
how have you been?
Well, I hope.
I miss you.
Why did it happen again?
I'm sorry, my dear.
Yours truly, your lover.
, Michael.
The paper on which the note was written looked as if it had been crumpled up underwater, then left to dry. It was written in poor, shaky handwriting, but it was written like it was from him.
But he was gone. He was in the past. Being hung up on him would be detrimental; he had been marked as missing by the cops ages ago. He was never going to return.
Maybe in another life…
The harsh whispers of the wind smashed against the windows, rattling them. It was like the house was screaming, maybe it was. Everything was going blurry. Hopefully, it was all a bad dream.
Maybe in another life…
It was cold, the sharp air bit at Jeremy's arms. The floor wasn't very comfortable. He missed him, despite being them horrible for each other.
He was warm. It's cold.
Maybe in another life…
So predictable, really. He would always commit to things, then end up abandoning them.
The carpet was warm — get to the carpet.
The movement was dizzying, but he was there; the carpet was warmer than the tile. Everything was blurry; the lights had flickered as one of the tree branches slammed against the house.
Was he dying?
Maybe in another life…
The front door creaked open. Hopefully, it was Fritz, as they were supposed to hang out that evening.
"Jeremy? Where are you, dude?" Fritz's voice rang out through Jeremy's house as the door clicked shut. Fritz walked into Jeremy's living room, wanting to find his friend. The tile was cold as Fritz slowly walked into the living room.
"Jeremy, dude?" Fritz had repeated his words as he kept walking around Jeremy's house; he froze up when he saw Jeremy lying on the carpeted floor of the living room.
"I, uhm. Are you alive, man?" Fritz spoke whilst he sat down on the floor next to Jeremy, lightly poking at his best friend's shoulder.
"Am I?" Jeremy's words were moreover mumbled into the carpet instead of to Fritz.
Fritz sighed as he gently rolled Jeremy over onto his back; he moved Jeremy's head onto his lap, then he gently pushed Jeremy's curly bangs out of his face. The noiret was burning up.
"Oh, Jer. It'll be okay," Fritz had whispered that as he carefully pulled his best friend into a tight hug. Jeremy had slumped against Fritz when he was hugged; he was tired, too cold, too warm, dizzy and everything was blurry.
Fritz was gently holding his best friend, not asking about the piece of paper Jeremy was holding.
Maybe in another life…
Jeremy was warm to the touch, yet he was shivering like he was surrounded by ice.
CRASH!
The tree branches hit against the side of the house once again.
Maybe in another life…
"Come on, let's get you up," Fritz spoke softly as he carefully stood up while carrying Jeremy. Jeremy was easy to pick up; Fritz had put Jeremy on the couch and wrapped a blanket around his best friend before he offered Jeremy something to eat.
Fritz was reading over the note that had been left for Jeremy by Michael as he sat next to his friend on the couch. He was rereading it over and over.
"How strange," Fritz murmured his words as he put the note down on the coffee table.
"I don't even know how it could have gotten into my house; it just appeared randomly," Jeremy spoke quietly. He was tired. The blanket was wrapped completely around Jeremy, keeping him warm.
"Mhm, I mean, it isn't your writing, your writing is way neater, it looks like someone with shaky hands copied Michael's writing," Fritz spoke quietly, then he lightly squeezed Jeremy's arm when Jeremy had grimaced at the mention of his ex-boyfriend's name.
"Uh, yeah. Why would I write something that ominous to myself in his writing?" Jeremy spoke in a blank tone.
"Plus, he's been pronounced missing for years. I don't know anymore, Fritz," Jeremy sighed.
"Mm, I know, Jer, I know," Fritz lightly pulled his best friend into a hug to comfort him.
Neither of them knew how or why the letter got into Jeremy's house. Was it from Michael? Was it not from Michael? No one knew.
Maybe in another life…