Michael In The Basement

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Jeremy's P.O.V.

I hadn't meant what I said, I just kind of word vomited since all of those people were watching. Michael didn't seem to care though, which was amazing seeing as he was focused solely on me. It made me feel special, but I made him feel like crap.

So what I had said was partially true. I am not gay, I like girls and guys. But technically it was still wrong of me to do that to Michael when it was very obvious that I harbored feelings for him.

I walked down the sidewalk, making my way to the bus stop when I was practically ambushed. By who? A raging Rich accompanied by an equally disappointed Jake. Rich jumped on my back, causing me to fall in a bush near by from the sudden force. The boy with a faint red streak in his hair stood, looking ready to beat me up as I lay surprised on the floor. Thankfully, Jake stopped him.

"That was for Michael," Rich hissed. Jake laughed at his partner. Although in any other case it would have been a little funny, I was still recovering from shock. Jake pulled me up by my collar with ease.

"Look," I began. "I'm really confused, because I thought you hated Michael and me." Jake got ready to reply but was beat to the chance as Rich started ranting.

"We don't hate Michael, by I am really hating you right now, I could pu-" Jake cut him off with a chaste kiss to the cheek. Rich grew red and silent, letting the football player take care of it.

The taller boy than both ran a hand through his hair, "Jeremy, I don't hate you. But I'm really not liking you at the moment. You need to apologize."

"What? Why me? Michael-"

"Is probably feeling like this is all of his fault when he had every right to confront you," he reasoned. "Come on. All I'm saying is it's not a secret that you like him, but he doesn't know for sure. Saying what you did didn't make things better by any means."

I kicked at a piece of mulch by my feet idly, processing the words. They were actually trying to be nice, which made me feel even more bad. It was like our roles were switched except they weren't being nervous or awkward about anything.

Coming to the conclusion that they were right, I nodded. "Yeah, I should go see him now. Bye and t-thanks."

Rich grumbled something under his breath before picking up Jake who just chuckled and saluted towards me. Instead of waiting for the bus, I ran.

Not the smartest idea, but I felt like I was high on adrenaline.

Without stopping, which surprised me, I made it to Michael's house. No cars were parked in the front, meaning his parents weren't home. I quickly sniffed myself while catching my breath to make sure I didn't reek. Which I didn't, I was glad I put an excessive amount of deodorant on.

Slowly, I tread into the house. The door was unlocked, I locked it up on making an entrance, knowing how Michael tended to forget to lock the door. Another one of his life threatening habits that I nagged him for.

His room was empty, so I decided to check the basement. The sound of flesh hitting the floor caused me to run down the stairs quickly.

The sight scared me as I found Michael curled up in a ball on the floor. The fact that he only had his boxers and his hoodie on didn't frighten me. No, he was full on sobbing while trying to breathe, to no avail. His eyes threatened to close a plethora of times but he stopped himself from probably passing out.

"Jeremy," he whispered. That snapped me out of the trance I was under.

I stopped surveying the scene and rushed over to his side. His eyes flickered all around the room before landing on me. Michael's eyes widened and I watched as he started to cry even more. "I'm s-so sor-ry, J-Jeremy," he stuttered, gasping in air as he spoke.

My hands made their way to his head, one on his cheek and one in his hair. "Don't talk, okay? You don't need to be sorry."

Michael attempted to speak again but I shushed him. "Focus on me," I whispered calmly. I was anything but calm, and it didn't help my nerves when he crawled into my lap, head on my chest. But it felt nice anyway.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," my mouth moved against his hair, his head now vacant of headphones.

He sniffled in response.

"I didn't mean what I said, Michael. I-I like you a lot. More than I ever liked Christine."

I felt him shake his head before he looked up at me. The red puffiness in his eyes seemed way different from the effect his usual dose of drugs had. Instead it was heartbreaking because I could see the tracks his tears made on his cheeks. The only good thing from this situation was that his panic attack was subsiding.

"You don't h-have to s-say that just to make me feel better," he hiccuped. I stared at him before leaning forward.

"I wasn't lying."

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