Work Text:
The cold winter air leaves Jeremy shivering.
Michael turns the sound up in his car, so the Bob Marley CD blasts into the late night. Jeremy feels nothing toward the noise pollution he and Michael create, and the other drivers certainly won’t mind, seeing as they don’t exist.
When they planned their destinationless road trip far from New Jersey, Jeremy meant for it to give them the chance to talk. Post-Squip awkwardness has permeated their every interaction. Jeremy can feel his brain melting through his ears, clawing toward Michael as the distance between them grows. He can barely bring himself to look at Michael these days. Guilt motivates his every move—well, guilt and longing. Maybe regret, too. Probably regret.
Staring out the open window into the fields that surround them messes up his hair and fails to quell his nerves, so he caves, and turns his head toward Michael. A painful feeling twinges in his gut.
“Michael?” Jeremy asks, hating the way his voice cracks one syllable into Michael’s name.
“Hm?” Michael responds, keeping his eyes glued to the road in front of him. Jeremy sees no real need for that—going 20mph in a 15 hardly causes him any concern. Michael can’t possibly be that worried about crashing when their surroundings consist exclusively of grass and asphalt.
Jeremy tears his gaze away for Michael’s comfort, and stares back out the open window. Stars glow ethereally in the night sky. He feels like a character in one of those cozy games made for the Nintendo Switch.
“Can we pull over?” Jeremy asks, overcome with a brief burst of determination. “I want to look at the stars.”
Michael laughs softly at that. “Really?”
Jeremy’s face goes warm. “Yeah, dude. It’s pretty.”
Wordlessly, Michael pulls the car to the side of the road. He gestures toward Jeremy’s door, finally sparing him a glance. Jeremy doesn’t move.
“What? Do you want me to come with you?” Michael asks, teasingly.
Jeremy looks wistfully out the window. “Yeah, I do.”
“Oh.”
Michael undoes his seatbelt and waits for Jeremy to do the same. They both get out of the old PT Cruiser, and Jeremy’s heart grows warm. Tonight feels like a memory. It feels hazy, warm, and distinctly Squipless. It feels like reparation. The air smells floral, and Jeremy’s nose burns slightly, taking in the cold air.
Jeremy pulls his soft, oversized cardigan closer to his body, as he and Michael walk into the field. Twenty-or-so feet away from the car, Jeremy plops himself down on the grass. Normally, the thought of insects or wild animals would plague his nerves, but tonight’s peaceful atmosphere puts him at ease. He lies down on his back and stares at the sky, with Michael’s standing form taking up half of his vision.
“C’mon, at least sit,” Jeremy says, patting the space next to him. Michael obliges.
“Alright, but I’m not lying down; I don’t wanna get my hoodie all dirty.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes, affectionately. “Okay, loser.”
Michael stiffens. Jeremy’s heart spikes with anxiety, eyes widening, as he realizes his mistake. Memories of the Halloween party play in his mind, tauntingly.
“Michael, I’m so-”
“It’s fine.”
“Mi-”
“Drop it.”
“Can we talk? Please?” Jeremy pleads. He doesn’t dare make eye contact. The stars’ allure would keep him glued on a good day, so of course he stays glued when he has something to avoid.
In Jeremy’s peripheral vision, Michael drops his shoulders, leaning an elbow against his knee to use as a headrest.
“Fine,” Michael mutters.
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy starts. “Taking the Squip in the first place was stupid, and that’s not even the worst of what I did.” He spares Michael a glance, finding that he can’t read the expression painted on his face. It stings, knowing he used to be able to read Michael like a book, and now he’s long forgotten the language written on those pages. “I should’ve shut the stupid thing off when it told me it was optic nerve blocking you. I chased popularity, and of course it didn’t make me happy.”
Michael shifts to lean his head on his other hand.
“But even if it did make me happy, it’d never be okay the way I treated you,” Jeremy continues, before biting anxiously on his bottom lip for a moment, thinking. “I want you to know that you did nothing wrong. I called you a loser because I was angry and scared that you could be right. And of course, you were.” Jeremy takes Michael’s free hand. Michael tenses slightly, but slowly eases into the touch. “I’m sorry, Michael—for not listening to you, for being a dick, for ever listening to that evil tic tac—I could go on. The point is: I’m sorry.”
Michael meets his eyes, softly. “Thanks, Jer.” He offers a slight smile, which wobbles a little, before Jeremy notices how glossy Michael’s eyes look. The smile tugs downward on Michael’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he squeaks.
Jeremy’s anxiety goes into overdrive, freezing him for a moment, before propelling him forward to hug Michael. “It’s okay. You’re-” Jeremy stumbles over his words- “you’re okay.” He runs a hand up and down Michael’s back with featherlight touch. Much to Jeremy’s horror, Michael starts sobbing, squeezing Jeremy as tightly as he can.
“Sorry. Fuck- sorry. I’m sorry,” Michael rambles. Jeremy moves his hands to Michael’s shoulders, pulling back to meet Michael’s eyes.
“Hey, you’re okay. What’s going on?”
“You- I- fuck,” Michael hangs his head. “I never thought you’d…” Apologize, Jeremy fills in. Michael never thought he’d apologize.
“I’ll apologize as many times as you need. I’ll keep apologizing until it’s all just a bad memory.”
“We should get back in the car,” Michael says, wiping chilled tears from his cheeks. “We’re almost to West Virginia. We can find a motel once we’re out of Maryland.”
Jeremy nods, standing, and helping Michael up, too. They walk back to the car, silently, and shame fills Jeremy’s stomach. He’ll allow himself to wallow tonight, but by tomorrow, he’ll commit to being a better friend.
And like scar tissue over a wound, their friendship will repair with time, until all that’s left of the year is memory.