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cleverbroadwayurl · 6 years ago

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Author’s Commentary

A/N: I wanted to post this really fast before I like leave for so long again (I’m starting school ahhhhh). SO! Here it is! I did commentary on the whole piece because I felt like it needed it. All the original words are there, but the comments are italicized and in parentheses! I also mention a little side project that I kind of still have (it’s the other blog I mention). I just wanted to say: it’s our secret. Only one other person knows my identity and about this other blog I keep. You are free to go through it but please do not reveal any information about me once you find it. Do not say you know me, do not say you know who the identity is, it is supposed to be an anonymous story. A lot of bad things could happen if that information falls into the wrong hands. AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS!

Word Count: 29321

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an eating disorder, mentions of not sleeping, abusive ex, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of not very much sleep, mentions of self harm (just one line about long sleeves, nothing too intense), mentions of vomit, a bad time at prom, mentions of blood, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, cute Jeremy (IF I MISSED ONE PLEASE TELL ME IMMEDIATELY)

Jeremy Heere had always been a fan of pining. Well, a fan is a different term he’d use for it, but he constantly sought out people who he could never talk to. It was stupid, honestly. He thought it was stupid. So, when he found himself staring at you in math class or senior government, he started internally screaming (fun fact about me, I didn’t take math in high school. I went to a community college and took math there. But, it’s a cliché that Jeremy isn’t the best at math and I wanted to start out a little bit more cliché.) . It wasn’t that you were out of his league, it was like you two weren’t even playing the same game. You were coming the new Christine Canigula. And fast.

Of course, Jeremy couldn’t have picked a worse love interest even if he tried. You were quite reserved, meaning that if he did get the courage to talk to you, there’d be awkward silences and he was sure that he’d make a fool out of himself. Oh, and there was that one other thing: you already had a boyfriend.

That’s right, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), after years of not dating anyone, had a boyfriend (this is true! I didn’t date anybody until my senior year!). And it wasn’t that you weren’t breathtaking before, it’s just that Christine took up most of Jeremy’s time. The two split up for lots of reasons over the past year, and it was a mutual agreement that maybe the relationship wasn’t built on the greatest circumstances. And now that he was single, Jeremy spent all of that Christine time focused on you. Hopefully not in a creepy way, but Michael definitely thought the heart-eyed-staring at a lunch table across the room every morning was a little much. Whenever Jeremy got a little too invested in you, he would subtly bring up your boyfriend, reminding his friend that you weren’t absolutely everything. There was graduation, parties, and college coming up. Not getting you was not going to be the end of the world.

But the comments always left Jeremy a little hollow. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for you; that’s not at all the case. It was rather that he didn’t like the guy you were seeing (I love this trope, you can fight me on it). You had been snatched up by him in your electives, and Jeremy didn’t like it one bit (my elective was band class. I played the Oboe for 7 years). He always seemed to be fake nice, told vulgar and edgy jokes, and was almost like a sinister version of Michael (This is another true statement. My ex boyfriend is quite similar to Michael, and that’s why I kind of find it hard to write for him sometimes. When I got my first request for a Michael fic, it took me a few hours to fully compose myself enough to write it. I was worried that it was crappy, but lo and behold, it still gets notes sometimes). That was actually your boyfriend’s only redeeming quality: he was similar to Michael.

He seemed to make you happy though. Based off of the Instagram lurking he did, Jeremy saw how wide you smiled when you two were together, even before you two went public with the relationship. There were always wide smiles on your faces, photos circulating on social media of the two of you going through life events together. Every few weeks, sometimes even days, a new post would come into view, talking about how wonderful the other person was (My ex actually started this between us). He enjoyed reading the ones about you and didn’t particularly like the posts about your boyfriend and how great he was. And then he’d feel bad because he was sure that this guy was great for you, he made you happy, he should be happy for you. He also often got into a spiral of thoughts telling him that he was creepy for essentially stalking your social media pages, looking for more photos of you having a good time.

Although he told himself that this social media lurking was creepy, his friends assured him that it was normal. He was allowed to look at his crush’s Instagram. He wasn’t in trouble, nothing was going to happen to him, and if you did find out (which was highly unlikely), you’d find it cute if anything at all. People looking at your social media pages and thinking about how wonderful you are is kind of a confidence boost.

He liked to look over your homecoming photos. God, light pink looked adorable on you (I’m just going to say, I identify as a girl. I wore a light pink skirt with a white crop top and saved about $100 on the whole thing. I didn’t go to the dance, I was in a show called Urinetown. I did go to my best friend’s after party, and that is where we kind of both decided to go on an official date. I also wore my special effects makeup (which mainly consisted of dirt) to the party, and I remember it drove my mom crazy. I looked like a princess from the neck down but like a hot mess from the neck up.). He hoped that your boyfriend told you that. He hoped that he held you tight, cared about your feelings, and respected your boundaries. He hoped that this boy was the love you deserved. Because if Jeremy couldn’t do it himself, this guy had better do it at the very least. And as much as he hated to admit it, the two of you were kind of cute together (I got this compliment a lot, surprisingly). There was a nice balance between you, he was happy that you had equal power, and that everything was consensual, at least from what he could tell on the outside (and it was).

And all the sudden, days of pining turned into weeks, which turned into months. And while he was pining, Jeremy started to notice things about you. Little habits you’d picked up, cute faces you’d make, even caught whispers of what you liked and disliked (Okay real talk: nobody talked about me. There were no rumors, no whispers, and if Jeremy Heere were real and went to my high school, there’s a good chance he would’ve known my best friend and that is where he would’ve caught things I liked and disliked). And while he was absolutely thrilled with this new information, there were some things that gave him a bad feeling. He talked to Michael about them, but the 8-bit-loving boy would simply say that you were probably okay, and Jeremy was reading into it too much. Every has their bad days, right?

The observations started in January after Winter break. Jeremy noticed a week before Winter break that you’d clutch a cup of something every morning (I actually organized my school’s toy drive, so I had to be up at ridiculous times, both night and morning. I drank matcha tea like no tomorrow, just so I could stay awake in class). You worked at a tea shop, so he always assumed it was some kind of tea. He didn’t really know anything about tea, but knew that you must like it if you always had a cup of it almost every day. That wasn’t the worrying part, though. Tea was good for you, right? He thought so (And Jeremy would be right).

No, the tea wasn’t necessarily a bad habit, but the tired looks, the bags under your eyes, and the fact that he’d heard a rumor that you were always drinking super caffeinated tea were the things that worried him. They were all signs that you weren’t sleeping enough, not taking care of yourself (Truth be told, I wasn’t. This paragraph and the ones similar were mostly wishful thinking. My friends didn’t notice, or at least didn’t bring it up. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate, and I just remember being cold and tired all the time. I procrastinated on everything, but I suppose that’s what you do when you’re only getting a maximum of four hours of sleep a night). And as much as Jeremy wanted to walk over and give you the best hug he could before leading you back out of the school and to his house to take a break and rest, he knew that number 1, he was two awkward to do that, and number 2, you didn’t know him. Like at all. You two only shared those two classes, it wasn’t like you’d been friends for years like he and Michael had.

4 weeks of tired smiles and bags under your eyes, he started to notice that your eyes were much more sunken into your head. Your blinks were more frequent. You always mentioned how cold and tired you were; they were almost screams for help (again, something I interpreted. Because to me, they were. I think other people saw it as complaining, not a way to get them to notice something was wrong). He watched your face contort over the course of four weeks from somewhat happy to just plain exhausted and pale. You looked sickly, if he was honest. But then your boyfriend would waltz up and you’d turn to face him, eyes shining as if he was the light of the world (True statement! Every morning, he did that. It didn’t matter if I was in the middle of a conversation, he’d pull my attention away and get angry if I didn’t). You two would walk to class, hand in hand. Your smile was a little bit forced, but he knew that it wasn’t intentional, and he was probably reading too much into you again.

It was another week before he began to notice you wearing the same clothes almost every day. You’d given up on jeans and settled for (what Brooke and Chloe informed him on) leggings and sweatpants. You wore the same sweaters on the regular and often times saw sweatshirts zipped up all the way to your chin. There was a lot less color and creativity; you wore the same accessories every day. And while he hated to admit that he checked you out as often as he did, he began to notice that your clothes were starting to get baggy. Things that used to hug around your arms got loose, and clothing hung different off of your body (This wasn’t the thing that actually tipped me off into thinking I had an eating disorder. My best friend planted the seed, and I really only knew when I went to exercise. Normally, I could shoulder press a good 40 lbs. During this time, I could barely do 4 reps of 10 lbs. Again, wishful thinking that someone noticed).

“Does (Y/N) look okay to you guys?” he asked the SQUIP Squad one day, eyeing the fact that your head was resting on your hand as your blinks got more and more frequent.

“They’re just tired,” Brooke stated, “at least that’s what they always say.”

Jeremy’s mouth formed a line. “I’m worried.”

Michael rolled his eyes at his best friend’s usual antics. “Jeremy, I swear, if I had a dollar every time you said that, I could buy the entire Pac-Man franchise.”

Just as Jeremy began to notice the smallest unhappy look, your boyfriend showed up and turned you around, just like he did every other morning. Jeremy sighed, not exactly content with how long he got to observe you that morning. He huffed once more before speaking again. “Do you ever notice that (Y/N)’s boyfriend always…like…turns them away from their friends that sit at their lunch table in the mornings?”

“Nope. But it’s clear that you do,” Jenna smirked at the lanky boy (I headcannon that Jenna is really snarky).

“Be quiet Jenna! I think it’s sweet really,” Christine swooned. She shot him a warm smile before defending him from the group’s criticism. “He’s worried, which means he really does care about them. Let him have feelings in peace for once.”

The poor boy turned a light pink before packing up his things and heading off to first period, which happened to be senior government with you.

You, of course, sat across the room from him, but he was happy that you two at least shared some classes. That way he could get to know you from afar, and not have to worry about trying to be witty in conversations. Hell, this way he wouldn’t have to worry about any conversations. He could hear about what you liked in order to possibly strike up a conversation with you one day. Jeremy knew that that was a long shot for him, but it’s the thought that counts.

Senior government was always interesting with you. You were always too tired to really put any effort into speaking, and he could get to know some of your morals without actually having to ask and be awkward about it. This was also the class where mutters of your caffeinated tea originated and where more recently, he heard whispers about how stressed you were (I don’t think they whispered, but someone definitely noticed I wasn’t okay. I know that because when I graduated, he came up to me and told me I was the one he was going to be thinking about most after high school. And I thought I was the invisible girl). The stress rumor was obviously true. He could see your white knuckles gripping your warm beverage from 20 feet away. Stressed also might be an understatement, but he decided to not focus on how much he wanted to help you and instead focus on the assignment at hand.

“(Y/N) and Jeremy? You two are paired up for this discussion. Neither of you are sitting by someone, so please, one of you move.” (That never happened in my government class, I just made it up).

Jeremy saw you packing up your stuff slowly and decided that he should be the one moving. You were already tense as it was, so he decided to do the very least he could to help with that by not making you move. He tried to move swiftly, but be cool, be chill. Wait not chill, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to be. He just wanted to be calm enough to talk to you. Yeah, that’s it. He just can’t make a fool out of himself. Oh dear god this was going to be hard (I made a mistake here. I try not to have Jeremy mention god, just because I know he’s Jewish. I know that it’s just a phrase, but I didn’t want it to be the first thing to come to mind). But, it was now or never. He sat down beside you, barely making eye contact as he pulled out his notes for the discussion. He could see your small smile from the corner of his eye, and immediately tensed up a little more. Why did you have to be so cute?!

“Alright,” you began, your eyes shifting from him to your notes, “what do you think about global warming?”

Your small smile returned, and your eyes were kind; soft almost, “Uhh…it’s bad.” Real smooth Jeremy. Why did he have to say something so stupid around you? It was like his IQ dropped to 40 (Legally Blonde reference). And yeah, the SQUIP was bad, but at least it kind of helped him with this kinda stuff. Jeremy wanted to run for the bathroom and lock himself in there until the end of the period, but before he could, you spoke up again.

“I agree,” a more genuine smile flashed across your lips. Now that was something that made Jeremy melt. That smile was one he hadn’t seen in weeks (I’m actually really insecure about my smile. I thought it would be nice if someone liked it for a change). Just a flash of it made him clam up. He swallowed hard, a blush creeping into his cheeks. He needed to say something else, probably ask you a question if anything at all.

“Honestly, it’s crazy that it was like 70 yesterday. I mean, it’s February.” (That happened to me while I was at school last winter. That’s how long this has been a work in progress) Damn it Jeremy! That’s not a question! He cringed at himself again, wanted to just disappear into thin air.

“Right? Absolutely insane if you ask me. We’re killing the planet.”

How was this going so well? Like, you two were here, and damn you are surprisingly easy to talk to (I get this compliment a lot, not sure why). Jeremy could feel himself getting lost in your eyes again, with the added touch of how you drew your lips together when you were scanning your notes and the simplicity of how you held your cup (When I read pining fics, I love it when the love interest has everything noticed about them. I didn’t get that; I craved it instead. I wanted Jeremy to be my dream love interest, so he does cute and cliché things. Yes, I make the rules. Yes, I’m allowed to break them as well). He took a glance at your notes, forcing him to tear away from becoming even more awkward than he was before. His heart fluttered at your handwriting and how much personality it had to it. God, why did you have to be so damn adorable?!

All Jeremy could muster in terms of responding to your last sentence was a nod before the bell rang. You both packed up your things and you checked your phone before speeding off to your next class, your head down as you typed something out. Jeremy stood, upset with himself that he couldn’t muster a ‘goodbye’. But he talked to you! TALKED. Like real conversation! He was so proud of himself he nearly ran to meet up with Michael, who was easily across the school, to tell him the good news. And Jeremy knew he had to do that again. He was going to try again in math. He could pretend to not understand something and then you’d help him. It’d be amazing, just like this last class discussion was, right?

Wrong. For the entire class period, you avoided everyone like the plague. You barely even looked up to take notes. This was odd for you. Even from across the room, Jeremy sat, unsettled at the lack of your pencil moving across the paper, taking down formulas and theorems. Instead, your fingers flew across your phone’s keyboard, almost resembling Jenna and the girls when new gossip was flying around the school. This was different though. Your hands were almost in a state of panic, shaking and moving like bumblebees on a mission to pollinate (I love bees, okay? I also did this a lot. It ended up being almost daily, and texts like these were what kept me up at night. Really, I would say I was going to bed, and then he’d keep me up, and I’d type very similar to this. If I didn’t respond in 2 minutes or less, he’d get upset). His heart went out to you as he wrote down trigonometry identities. He should’ve been thinking about sine and cosine, but instead his mind kept going back to you. Jeremy meant to talk to you, to work up the courage, to ask if you were okay, but as soon as the lecture was over, you bolted out of the room before anybody got the chance to talk to you.

As much as Jeremy hated secant and tangent, they might be a way to talk to you. He took pretty good notes that lecture and you could easily get them from him tomorrow in senior government. It was decided. The next day in senior government, he would ask if you needed the math notes from the day before, and then work together. That would get you two talking, no doubt about it.

The next morning, he sat shaky, but determined. Jeremy took extra time the night before to rewrite his notes, sending photos to the group chat of him, Chloe, and Brooke to make sure that his notes were legible and understandable. He even asked about color coding, but the girls decided that that may be a little bit too much, even if it was to try and impress you (My ex wasn’t a good student, let me have this one. Jeremy color coding his notes is cute).

That was going to be the hard part: impressing you (I’m actually not hard to impress. At all. Honestly the bare minimum is impressive to me). But he had a plan. He was going to sit by you in senior government (thank god for no seating chart) and ask if you needed the math notes from yesterday’s lecture. He was told by several members of the SQUIP Squad that telling you he’d noticed that you maybe weren’t doing so well wasn’t the way to go (Not as a stranger, but as friends, totally tell your friend you’ve noticed something wrong). So, he decided to keep it light. Just say something along the lines of ‘hey do you need my math notes from yesterday? You seemed distracted, and I just wanted to make sure that you have them’. Simple as that!

But the plan faded when he saw you kissing your boyfriend goodbye for the day right in front of the senior government classroom (I never wanted to show PDA. Especially at school. I couldn’t bear to bring it up, so I didn’t. Every kiss we had at school? Nonconsensual. It was never just a peck either. It had to be this long ass deep shit. I was not about that in public). His heart sunk as you stepped into the classroom, unaware that he had just caught you (If someone caught us, I would be fully aware). Jeremy resumed his usual defeated shrug. He was never going to talk to you. He knew that he’d fuck everything up if he even remotely tried to.

The next time he talked to you, it was April. You two were assigned a group project (My senior government class really didn’t have group projects). It was you, Jeremy, and one of your friends. Surprisingly, you took the lead, asking others what they wanted to do before saying what you wanted to. Again, Jeremy couldn’t figure out why, but you were always so easy to talk to. It was like you understood what it was like to be awkward and tried your best to avoid situations like that.

That doesn’t mean that Jeremy missed the arc from tired to exhaustion. Well, maybe not exhausted, but just plain sad. You were unhappy about something (Could it be because I was really unhappy? Yes). Jeremy wanted nothing more than to go and give you a hug. He wanted to tell you that everything was going to be okay and that nothing was permanent, but knew that it wasn’t the right time to do that (My boss did that for me, and I cried because it was the first person to notice something was wrong and do something about it). And Jeremy still noticed the plastered smile you put on your face every morning when your boyfriend arrived.

The smile you always forced became unsettling to him. Weren’t you supposed to tell your boyfriend if something was bothering you (Yes, but let’s remember that every time I brought up something wrong, he’d dismiss it or get upset by it)? Weren’t you supposed to be comfortable with him and be able to vent about your problems? Aren’t boyfriends supposed to support and love their significant others and not make them mask themselves?

PROM rolled around just a month later. The group project was over, the group easily getting an A with its equally rationed work and how strong the evidence was for your project (It’s fanfiction. I’m giving the best case scenario. Emphasis on fiction). It was finally time to celebrate being seniors and have a good weekend together.

It didn’t take long for Jeremy to find you at PROM. Actually you were hard to miss in his eyes. You wore light blue, a color Jeremy had always been incredibly fond of, but he liked it even more on you. You were the definition of a vision in blue, if he was honest.

He and Christine decided to go together, and no matter what he tried, he couldn’t get his mind off of you.

While yes, some part of that was the outfit and the fact that every time he saw you he would become tongue tied because WOW, the other part was because you looked unhappy (I guess now is the time to fully come out about this. I have a secret blog that isn’t on tumblr, but is all about what happened from my point of view. I’ll link the blog here, and you can check it out. I have a masterlist up there, feel free to look through it. I explain everything in full detail). This was PROM, something the entire student body had looked forward to for quite some time, and you were upset.

When Jeremy saw you sitting alone and drinking some water, he decided that now was the perfect time to try and strike up a conversation with you. If he couldn’t do that, he was going to compliment you at the very least. He practically stumbled over to you, but when he got there, he somehow managed to get a compliment out of his mouth. “You look really nice tonight,” he stated proudly, even if his stance didn’t reflect it.

You blushed in response (oh boy Jeremy was in deep), and squeaked out a ‘thank you’ before your boyfriend joined you and whisked you away to the dance floor. You two didn’t start dancing right away; your boyfriend pulling you in almost to whisper something in your ear (The original was to hear the reader’s boyfriend say “what did he want?” and the reader would respond “he was just asking if I was having a good time”. I wanted to show off the secrecy and lies that abuse victims live off of without flat out telling you). Giving that fake smile, Jeremy watched you respond, nod a few times, and then start dancing. It was an odd exchange, Jeremy thought, but it was better to just leave it alone.

The months following PROM, Jeremy noticed that your skin was returning a little more color, but you still seemed upset about something (My best friend got me to eat again. Not sure how, I suppose she’s a miracle worker). He also noticed that your boyfriend was becoming more and more insistent with you. He went from just talking to you at the table to kissing you long and hard when Jeremy knew, even from his table across the room, that you were uncomfortable (This is important to me, because all of my friends would call our nonconsensual kisses cute and coupley. Those cute and coupley kisses made me feel like shit). But Michael always told Jeremy that he was thinking about this too much. If it was really that bad, you’d say something to him or to an adult, right (Couldn’t. I was too afraid to)?

Graduation finally rolled around and he walked across the stage; finally finishing high school. And while he wanted to say that his high school was a “family” like all the speeches said, he knew that those were made up stories and that high school made his mental health worse more than anything else (I self project a lot, huh?). Jeremy also caught you smiling lots of times, the cheap stadium lights shining in your eyes almost like stars (I actually have a photo of this! My mom took it). You looked so normal, so happy. He didn’t have the courage to walk up to you and tell you how amazing you were, but god did he want to. He also could’ve sent a text to you, he did have your phone number from the government group project, but chose not to. That’d be too awkward, even for him.

The senior cruise was…interesting for the two of you (Again, check the blog for my side of the story).

Every summer, the school offers a trip for people to take a ride out onto the Atlantic ocean (Mine was the Pacific Ocean). It was a relaxing cruise that just followed the coastline, nothing too scary there. It did take time to get to the coast, though. The entire senior class piled into school buses for the last time in their lives to board a boat and enjoy the beautiful weather outside (It actually ended up raining, which I thought was fantastic).

You sat with your boyfriend for the entire ride to the Atlantic Ocean. Jeremy sat behind the two of you with Michael (I’m not sure who sat around us). He watched as the two of you joked to each other and heard your dumb debate about golf (On the moodboard for this, I included the texts. Those are real. Those were actually sent to me from him). You were voicing your opinion like he’d never heard before. This is what you must be like when you don’t get really anxious about talking in front of people (I actually was incredibly anxious. I don’t remember a lot of it, I just remember how angry I was (Later Edit: I actually started remembering!! Yeah! I can actually recall my prom night and other stuff so this story is working in all the ways it’s supposed to!)). This is what you must be like when you get comfortable with someone. And god did he want to see and hear more of it.

Michael caught Jeremy daydreaming about you (again), and pulled him out of it. The two shared a conversation about the newest Nintendo Switch game, talking about new power ups and sick game mechanics. Mostly, the two were happy about the lack of motion controls. They both shuddered at the thought of Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword. It was at that moment that Jeremy noticed your head against the window and the debate about golf ended. Actually, all contact between you and your boyfriend had ceased. He saw your head move, and your voice about 3 octaves higher than it normally was. Ahh yes, the customer service voice (I call her Customer Service Kristen). It was one he hadn’t heard from you, but knew it from the overly chipper people at 7/11. The only difference was you were using it on your boyfriend, not on a customer who was giving you shit.

“When you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t fix it,” you spoke, your voice dripping with annoyance (God, I said this phrase at least 200 times and he still hasn’t gotten the hint). Jeremy opened his mouth to say something without thinking, but Michael caught his arm.

“Don’t”, he said softly, saving his best friend from embarrassment. Jeremy shrunk back in his seat as you pulled out your phone and started furiously typing. It was similar to the typing that Jeremy was used to seeing from you; fingers flying as you typed out a message. Jeremy watched silently as your boyfriend did the same, an argument arising over text rather than in person.

As soon as the typing became more and more frequent between the two of you, the bus arrived at the destination. The entire bus emptied, and Jeremy saw you walking with your head buried in your phone’s screen, messaging clearly up. You followed the group for the most part, but when the 100 18 year olds turned, you kept walking straight.

Jeremy ran out of the crowd and away from Michael to make sure you wouldn’t get away from the group (I didn’t have a Jeremy Heere. I wish I would’ve). The town that was near the coastline could be sketchy and not safe for someone as wonderful as you. He caught up to you and touched your arm to get your attention. He immediately pulled it back, worried he’d crossed your boundaries, but you just turned towards him, sadness swimming in your eyes.

“Can’t have you getting lost,” he smiled sheepishly.

Jeremy’s heart fluttered when your ears got a little pink and you got a little bit flustered. You quietly thanked him for leading you in the right direction. He could hear your phone buzzing every few seconds. Concern flashed across his eyes as he stared down at you getting more and more on edge with each vibration. Being the sweet boy his is, Jeremy decided to leave it alone. Bringing it up might cross a boundary, and he didn’t know how to handle that. If you were already feeling upset, he definitely didn’t want to push it.

The two of you boarded the boat and Jeremy started watching you check your phone. He slowed his pace to keep up with you. He eyed the fact that you locked your phone, hands shaking slightly. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Jeremy noticed your breathing start to get shallow and knew that he was powerless in this situation. You were spiraling; he needed to find a way to help, and fast (I actually did have a major panic attack going onto the boat. I was alone, and had to pretend like everything was okay. I kept texting my best friend, hoping that she’d respond soon. She did, thank god, but it took her a few minutes).

He hadn’t felt this panicked since the whole cast of the play was SQUIP-ed. That was his fault, he was so weak, similar to how he felt now. But then Michael—Wait. MICHAEL! He might actually know what to do! Thank goodness the slushie enthusiast kept close to the two of them. It did, of course, occur to Jeremy that he probably would’ve benefitted from the girls telling him what to do so he wouldn’t cross a boundary, but he didn’t have them here, so Michael would have to do.

Jeremy whipped his head around so fast, observers would think he got whiplash from it. Michael knew this look well, it was Jeremy’s “I need your help right now, I have no idea what to do” look. “What’s wrong?” Michael mouthed.

“They’re panicking.” Jeremy mouthed back, hoping that you didn’t notice.

He took a glance at Jeremy, then at you, then back to Jeremy. He didn’t notice anything off until he saw a particularly deep breath. Doing a double take, he understood the worry in Jeremy’s eyes. There was no doubt about it that you were in the verge of breaking down. One wrong move, and this whole idea of helping you would disappear. He decided to take matters into his own hands. If you didn’t talk to him ever again because he crossed one of your boundaries, Michael could deal. Jeremy, on the other hand could not.

“Hey do you need help?” Michael asked, praying that you still had the ability to speak.

“Yeah, actually,” oh thank god, you could still communicate somewhat effectively so they could help you (Normally, for me, speech is gone in the middle. Movement goes first, then speech, then smell, then eyesight, and finally hearing). “I’m looking for my best friend.”

Jeremy had no idea who that was, always seeing you with the same group of friends and your boyfriend. Michael, however, knew exactly who you were talking about (I told you my best friend would be friends with them). He was acquaintances with the person; the two of them only sharing a few classes. As Jeremy’s face paled, Michael recalled seeing your best friend board the boat just minutes before Jeremy helped you not get lost.

“I think I saw them walk up to the top deck,” Michael stated, pushing his glasses up further onto his face. “I’m going to stay here and wait for the rest of our squad. Jeremy, why don’t you walk them up to the top deck and wait for their best friend?”

Almost immediately, Jeremy’s palms started sweating. Alone. With you?! Was Michael insane? He could barely get two words out around you, but when he did a double take of your much more anxious self, he relaxed a little bit. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. You needed his help, he needed to be a hero for just once in his life.

So, Jeremy offered his arm, knowing that holding hands would cause gossip for weeks, to help guide you up the stairs (Everyone knew about my relationship at this point. I got compliments all the time). It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that you weren’t strong or anything, he just didn’t want you to get lost and he wanted you to have the support you needed without being too forward. He knew that his eyes were dripping with concern, but it was better than having you panic in the bathroom of the ship by yourself. Hell, anything would be better than that.

As soon as the two of you got to the top deck, Jeremy sat with you on some uncomfortable plastic chairs. He didn’t care that the chairs were cheap plastic chairs from some hardware store, but he did care about finding your friend. You were seated on the edge of your seat, eyes scanning the crowd over and over again, looking for any of your best friend’s traits.

Jeremy’s phone vibrated, signaling a text from Michael. He described what your best friend looked like so Jeremy could actually help you instead of being helpless like he felt (I love wordplay). Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy caught you texting someone and he hoped that you weren’t texting your boyfriend. If he was caught with you, alone, he might get the wrong idea and then Jeremy would die. Whether of embarrassment or at the hands of your boyfriend, he couldn’t tell.

Luckily, your best friend appeared before Jeremy’s thoughts of his inevitable death got really bad. Your best friend smiled at you with almost as much admiration as Michael did with Jeremy. As soon as they sat down, you turned to Jeremy, a small smile on your face. “Thank you for waiting with me. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.”

“It’s no problem,” Jeremy smiled back, his ears turning hot. God he wished every day you’d smile at him like that. It was that true smile, not the fake one you’d mastered the art of pulling out of your back pocket. It was the smile where you were genuinely yourself, the one that was a little crooked and the one where your eyes shined almost as brightly as blue stars hundreds of light years away (I just happen to love astronomy. When I brought this up to my ex, he said that astronomy didn’t matter and ‘who cares about the constellations?’ I thought my best friend was going to punch him right there. And ironically, that happened at PROM). It didn’t matter the circumstance, even this small one you’d managed to make, your smile at him was real, and Jeremy couldn’t help but return the same expression with a level of admiration he couldn’t describe.

You looked away before he could stare any longer. Your best friend walked up and sat next you. They looked at you seriously for a second and you met eyes with them almost immediately. “Are you okay?” they asked quietly, eyes flickering at Jeremy for a split second.

He immediately looked towards the ocean, not wanting to be too intrusive of your conversation with your best friend. Because he wasn’t paying full attention to the conversation that you were having, not wanting to invade your privacy. The only coherent phrase that he could pick up was “let’s have some fun on this trip, yeah?” (My best friend was the one who told me my boyfriend was abusive. She knew about everything because I told her. I would send her screenshots, she would respond accordingly)

Even that phrase to Jeremy was pretty cryptic. Although, by putting some basic clues together, he could tell that a text fight wasn’t fun, and therefore, by stopping the conversation with your boyfriend, you could have fun (Not true. He ruined prom, he ruined a Disneyland trip, he was not going to ruin our senior cruise). But the way that your best friend talked about the events that had happened, it seemed like maybe this wasn’t the first trip that was ruined by a fight like this. Was that what you did often in class? Were fights like this common between the two of you? Is he—

Michael: Did you find their friend?

Jeremy: Yeah dude, they’re just getting settled.

Michael: Are they okay?

Jeremy: I think so? I don’t know, her best friend handled it really well.

He glanced at you, noticing that you were trying to keep yourself calm while being discreet. Of course panicking and being discreet don’t really go together. However, Jeremy did want to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable, so he kept his mouth shut and pretended to not notice the deep breaths and shakiness from you. Instead, he decided to text Michael and act like everything was fine for a moment.

Jeremy: They’re still a little shaky, but I’m glad we found their friend. I’ll be down in a second.

Michael: Take your time, dude.

Jeremy turned to you, a small and nervous smile on his face. You looked up at him, returned the small and nervous smile before thanking him again. His heart fluttered when you blushed as your gaze shifted downwards again.

“You okay here with your friend?” he asked.

“Yeah. You can go to your friends if you want. I know they’re probably waiting for you.”

“Alright,” he said, getting up slowly and putting his phone in his pocket. “Text me if you need anything.”

You blushed at his sweet gesture (it was so cute Michael was definitely hearing about this later), and said a much quieter “thank you, I will.” He turned to walk away, but not before catching your best friend giving him a look of gratitude.

When Jeremy went down the steps, he felt lighter than before. Not only because you’d smiled at him three times and blushed wowser, but because he knew he had done a good thing. Michael and the rest of the SQUIP Squad were waiting for him, the entire group giving him a knowing smile (I had to make up this whole part. I wanted Jeremy to replace a boy from my other blog, but I thought that might be a little too much, even for fanfiction).

“How’d it go?” Michael asked, nudging Jeremy lightly.

“Well. They’ve calmed down a lot.”

“I’m glad you helped,” Michael said, purposely leaving himself out of the efforts of helping you.

The group hung out on one of the lower decks, each person taking their time to talk to Jeremy about his encounter with you. Of course, there was teasing, but Jeremy wouldn’t have changed anything if he could do it again. If he was Max Caulfield, there would be no rewinds used when helping you.

His phone vibrated a few minutes later with a text from your best friend: “I got your number from (Y/N), and I just wanted to say thank you for helping them out. They really needed it. –(Y/F/N)”.

The SQUIP Squad decided to move a little bit later, as the food was downstairs and the group was pretty hungry. As soon as they got to the first level, though, Jeremy saw your boyfriend, phone in hand, and texting frantically. He saw a little bit of you in him, but Jeremy could tell that this wasn’t the desperate and innocent texting you’d done in class, no there was something…different about this version of spamming his key board that made him unsettled.

He could also picture you on the top deck, trip ruined, typing faster and faster with each text. He could almost see the concern and upset expression on your face that would match the one that he’d seen just hours ago (Actually, I turned my phone on Do Not Disturb. My best friend caught me with it a few times, but only just took it from me when I was beginning to panic again).

Jeremy didn’t realize that he was staring until your boyfriend met eyes with him. If Jeremy felt uncomfortable before, he wasn’t sure what to call this. It was like he was near a panic attack (Whenever that face was made at me, I was near panic attack. I felt like Jeremy would be the same way). Brooke, who was standing next to him, followed Jeremy’s gaze and saw your boyfriend glaring at Jeremy, as if the boy had killed his dog. So, Brooke suggested that the group move for the sake of Jeremy and the group’s comfort and safety. When they did, Jeremy couldn’t get your boyfriend’s glare out of his head, his eyes lingering in his head for way longer than they probably needed to be. And the more Jeremy thought about it, the more anxious he got.

A week later, he received a text from you, thanking him for his help on the cruise. And while you’d said thank you already, it was nice to hear from you and know that you were doing alright. Thank god that Michael was there to help Jeremy make coherent conversation with you without taking ten minutes to respond to each text. It actually went quite smoothly, and Jeremy was so surprised at how easy it was to talk to you. Given, he was a sweaty mess, but text was easy, you couldn’t see the intense thought and determination each text took.

He wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but you two actually ended up talking for an hour or so. Jeremy double checked that everything was okay with you, and asked about how you’d been since graduation. You replied rather quickly, almost putting his poor response time (due to double checking with Michael on each response) to shame (I do have an incredible response time. At least, I did. I think I said this before, but by ex boyfriend used to get angry with me if I took more than 2 minutes to respond. And he wanted to text me all the time. So yeah, my response time was hella good). You also often mirrored his responses, putting one word answers followed by questions in an attempt to keep the conversation going. Jeremy was grateful and shocked that you even wanted to talk to him. He got nervous as the hour went on, however. Your responses kept getting spacier and spacier until you finally said you had to go (Here I wanted to show off the reader’s controlling boyfriend via text. What’s happening on their side is the same thing that happened to me: texting other people while texting your boyfriend is out of the question). You apologized for the way you were acting before saying goodbye to him, and Jeremy was very confused. It was almost like you were trying to be over polite. He pushed the thought away as he gave Michael a high five (I wanted Jeremy to dismiss the signs as his friends did before. I wanted it to seem like something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what). This was an accomplishment; Jeremy finally talked to you without stuttering and making a fool of himself.

The next time you two saw each other, it was at Rich’s bonfire (This bonfire actually happened!!! It was with one of my friends, and most of the events did happen. I left out some parts that I didn’t think applied to everyone). It was shocking that Rich was even having his annual bonfire, but he did it as redemption for what happened a year and a half ago at Jake Dillinger’s Halloween party. Plus, he wanted to invite all of his new friends to a special get together that may have been overly exclusive before. Now was a time of acceptance. They accepted him; he would do the same for them.

And of course, since it’s Rich and he knows a lot of people, not only was the whole SQUIP-Squad invited, but so was your best friend, your boyfriend, and you. Of course, you’d be there with your boyfriend, but Jeremy’s heart did sink a little bit when he didn’t see you arrive as soon as the bonfire started (I was working that day until 9:30. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go, so I consulted my coworkers, who all said to do it. So, I did. To this day, I wish I didn’t). He had seen somewhere that you picked up a Summer job, one that maybe was perfect for your tastes. However, that job prevented him from seeing you. And while he was happy about your freedom and independence as a person, he did miss your smiling face, even if it was often accompanied by your boyfriend (I didn’t want Jeremy to be too controlling like Ross Geller. But I did want him to miss the reader while they were gone). Jeremy still had to admit, you two were a cute couple.

The party was actually pretty fun. Both Michael and Jeremy were reluctant to go, but it was nice to just sit and talk with some friends. There were snacks and because it was a bonfire, there were of course smores (There were smores at the bonfire I was at too, but because I was still nervous about eating in front of people, I didn’t eat anything. I went a good 13 hours without eating anything that day. And I thought I was done with my eating disorder). The group took turns cooking and eating marshmallows over the fire, not a care on anyone’s shoulders. Your boyfriend was asked when you would show, and he just shrugged and switched back to being on his phone for a little bit (Not true! My ex had his Nintendo Switch there and spent the entire time playing Breath of the Wild).

At about 9:30, you showed up, smile on your face and dressed in sweats. You must’ve just gotten off of a shift and went home to change. Jeremy couldn’t help but find beauty in your exhaustion (It’s fanfiction. I wanted to show off how amazing Jeremy thought the reader was. Plus, I firmly believe that the beauty people see when they truly admire someone is more than skin deep). From your messy hair to the slight bags under your eyes. He couldn’t pull his mind away from picturing your head resting on his shoulder, and you being fast asleep as some lame sitcom plays in the background (I wanted that. What’s the harm in Jeremy wanting the same thing?). He wanted to see his navy cardigan on you so badly, but knew that right now was not the time to confess his feelings.

And through the exhaustion, Jeremy could see a wild light in your eyes as the group decided to play Never Have I Ever. He never saw you as a risk taker, but rebellion ablaze in your eyes, he knew that first impressions of you were merely the surface of your personality (Did you catch the Les Mis reference?). Even though he had been taking notice of you and your habits, this was an entirely new experience with you.

The game started innocently. For some reason, everyone was playing it safe. Jeremy knew why he was playing it safe. Any Never Have I Ever statements from him weren’t embarrassing, and he was trying his best to be discreet with his claps. The one thing he didn’t want to do is ruin is possible chances with you in the future. Not that he wanted you and your boyfriend to break up, but like maybe in the future, if you were willing, Jeremy didn’t want to ruin his chances with you. Even if that meant just being friends (And here is where I decided to make Jeremy a genuinely sweet guy. I wanted him to not lose hope and have him content with even just being friends. That way, he wouldn’t be mad if that’s the way I decided to take the story. I also happen to really like one of George Salazar’s cabaret songs, which is “Who You Deserve”. The reason why that song works is because at the end, the singer is happy for the subject he’s singing to. It shows that he genuinely does care about the person he’s singing to).

As the games passed, the statements did get dirtier. Jeremy started sweating for some of the statements and didn’t even clap for others. His numbers just silently went down (What a cheater). But some of the times he didn’t clap were because he wasn’t paying attention to the game. He was watching the light of the bonfire dance on your face and noticed how your demeanor reflected the warmth of the fire (LET ME HAVE MY ADORABLE JEREMY MOMENTS). He had never seen you act so extraverted in his life. You were comfortable. You were yourself.

What he really marveled at as the games got dirtier was your lack of judgement. You didn’t care about the numbers that people held up, from Brooke’s 2 to Christine’s 6 (I headcannon Christine as ace. Of course she’d have more numbers up). You listened and clapped appropriately, excitement flying out with your giggles and statements. You made cute faces at other people, teasingly getting angry at them for making you clap.

A game and a half later, you became quiet. The rebellion in your eyes faltered before disappearing all together. Jeremy’s heart sank. Your fake smile had made a return and your eyes fixated on a single point in the distance. It was almost like you were dissociating but at a very specific point. Fear crept into your features, your face getting paler by the millisecond. He followed your gaze to across the circle. Why were you looking at Chloe like that? Yeah, she wasn’t very nice for years, but she’s better now and working on herself. She apologized and has been making things right for months. Through all the confusion, he decided to look at little beyond the circle.

There it was.

Your boyfriend was staring at you, a look of disapproval on his face. His lip pouted into a frown, his eyes not leaving yours (This was something that actually happened, but no one noticed. I was terrified and I could feel myself faulter and the fear. I can still remember that exact scowl and the exact moment I stopped having fun). He had that icy glare that Jeremy recalled from the senior cruise. Jeremy knew how it felt to be stared as if you had done something wrong, even when you weren’t doing anything. That glare seemed familiar to your boyfriend, almost like he had made the same face at you many times before. His friend asked him something, and he turned from you, a smile stretching his lips from the pucker of his frown.

The game finally ended, and Jeremy was going over to say something to you. You needed a friend right now and probably some comfort. But the party was pretty much over and he didn’t want to make things worse between you and your boyfriend. So he let you be your own person (Jeremy is kind of my role model on what to do in this situation. However, I did cut something out of this. When I went to this bonfire, and after the game of Never Have I Ever, the group was talking about relationships. I was just starting to get comfortable with being open about my sexuality and I decided to come out to one of my friends to show that sometimes not putting out was okay. Now, I thought this would be fine. I wasn’t really out to a lot of people, but I was in a comfortable place, and I was exhausted. I wouldn’t see this person probably for the rest of my life. It didn’t matter. So I did. Not 5 minutes later, my boyfriend came up to me and told me that he’d come across a term on Twitter he’d ‘never seen before’, himself being part of the LGBT+ community. He came over to me and asked me what it meant. Keep in mind, I had already come out to my boyfriend, and I happen to identify as this particular term he’d ‘never heard of’. He should know what this term was. So I decided to just give him a hint. Then he said that the term didn’t make sense. After that I told him fully what it was, after explaining it months in advance, when I came out to him. He looked at me while we were in a crowd of people, smiled, and then said “That’s what you are, isn’t it?” I could’ve done one of two things: 1. Lie and then have him find out about it later, only to have him tell me that I didn’t really love him because I’d lied, or 2. Out myself at this party right in front of everyone. So, I said a quiet yes. I thought it was a good compromise. But, I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t prompted. Therefore, my ex boyfriend basically outed me at this bonfire. I didn’t include it because I thought that maybe it would tip everyone off a little bit too early).

People were walking around and asking for rides, and Jeremy could hear your boyfriend asking for a ride from you. Now that was a wild thing to hear. Your boyfriend lived in the opposite direction of your house, it would not only be out of your way, but it would be the opposite direction that you needed to go. It was getting late; and Jeremy knew that you had a shift earlier that day. Exhaustion had painted your features before, so asking you for a ride almost seemed…rude (Jeremy gets it).

“I have a flight to catch in like 8 hours and I still have to pack. I don’t have time to drive you home tonight. I’m really sorry,” you responded, voice only slightly wavering (This was true! I did have a flight in less than 8 hours and I hadn’t packed. I was going to New York City to see Dear Evan Hansen and Hamilton).

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry.”

Jeremy could practically hear your boyfriend’s eyeroll, but was happy that you stood up for yourself. He took a glance over, not sure why his concern for your safety sky rocketed, and watched your boyfriend desert you in hopes of finding a ride (I also need to make a side note here: I didn’t want to drive him home because I knew that he’d take way too long getting out of my car and attempt to make out with me, even though I didn’t want it. Plus, if someone outs you at a party, you don’t really want to make out with them. Just a pro tip for you). His eyes lingered as your eyes flicked towards your best friend. It was almost like a secret code, one similar to the way Michael and Jeremy talked around others. Your eyes turned into a way of begging, your best friend staring into your soul with a blank expression. They moved swiftly over to your boyfriend, after about 20 seconds of your secret facial expression language. Your best friend offered him a ride and you thanked her endlessly.

Soon enough, the party goers were leaving, and Michael suggested that he and Jeremy go home. The two walked to Michael’s P.T. Cruiser, Michael jingling his keys in his hands. It almost kept Jeremy from hearing your conversation with your boyfriend. Almost. He couldn’t quite make out the words the two of you said to one another, but as soon as he heard silence between you and your boyfriend happened, Jeremy’s head whipped around so fast Michael thought he’d get whiplash. But as soon as Jeremy’s eyes landed on you two, his heart sunk. Your boyfriend was kissing you (Again, I didn’t want to kiss him. I was hurt that he’d outed me and didn’t really care about my feelings. I was a trophy he’d one). The kiss deepened and Jeremy tore his eyes away. He immediately looked at the pavement and could feel Michael’s hand on his shoulder as the slushie enthusiast unlocked the car. The tall boy couldn’t take PDA between you and your boyfriend right now. It not only broke his heart, but gave him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed his pride as he climbed into the side of Michael’s passenger seat.

Since it was the summer before everyone went to college, Jeremy thought he’d never see you again. It was at that point that he hoped that somehow you’d connect years later, probably sometime when Jeremy wasn’t such a dork. That’s why he was so surprised to see you at Wawa’s one day in the middle of July (This actually didn’t happen! I did, and do, my own shopping, and I had a resting bitch face so no one could mess with me). He was there with Jake and Rich to get some snacks for a movie night that would be hosted at Jenna’s house later that night.

Jeremy ran into you trying to grab some chips from the top shelf. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as you attempted to grab the bag; your height not being tall enough to grab ahold of it. You were adorable, lip pouted out in concentration, eyes determined to grab the chip bag, coffee in your other hand. You gave up after what felt like seconds to Jeremy, he could watch you being absolutely cute for hours, if not, days. You began to turn away, or maybe looking for a way to climb the shelves without getting caught (I climb shelves all the time at the grocery store because I am tiny).

“I can get that bag for you, if you want,” Jeremy said, walking quickly towards you. You smiled that amazing smile, the one that made Jeremy’s heart melt. He grabbed the bag with ease. His hands were just a little sweaty, and he prayed that you wouldn’t notice (To be honest if a cute person helped me grab a bag off of the top shelf, my hands would be sweaty too. Especially during this phase of my life).

You took the bag, smile only growing wider. “Thank you so much, Jeremy.”

“You’re welcome,” he managed to say without a stutter. “I’ll see you later,” Jeremy smiled before walking off to meet up with Jake and Rich.

“Yeah, Jeremy I’ll see you around!” You mirrored his actions before walking up to the front to pay.

He found Rich and Jake pretty quickly about that encounter. Jeremy felt like he was moving at the speed of light, everything was zooming by in soft focus. You had talked to him. You had been sweet and nice and treated him like a human being. You were grateful for his presence and his help, even if it seemed like you didn’t need it at first. It was almost domestic, it was something Jeremy wanted with you. He could practically picture getting glasses for you from the top shelf of cabinets and going grocery shopping with you. He wanted that.

But as soon as he realized that he wanted that, his head altered the image. He wouldn’t get that. Your boyfriend probably did that for you already. You two probably watched movies together, he probably got glasses down for you, you two probably play video games every Saturday and live quite a domestic life outside of school (I wanted to show that Jeremy was starting to lose hope. I wanted to show how much he liked the reader, and that included seeing a domestic life with them. Plus, I think domestic life stuff is super cute so…). You two were close, no doubt about it. In the last year, it seemed like you two spent the most time with one another. Actually he couldn’t recall a time that he saw you two apart other than classes and this encounter at Wawa’s with you. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he was jealous or if it was actually strange that you two didn’t spend much time apart.

“Earth to Jeremy, come in Jeremy,” Rich laughed and nudged his friend.

“Whatcha thinking about, dude?” Jake teased.

A blush grew on Jeremy’s face, his eyes darting down to the floor.

“It’s (Y/N), isn’t it?” Rich asked, keeping his voice low.

“Shut up, Rich.”

“Dude, you should tell them how you feel.”

“Yeah, Jake? And how would I do that? They’re still with their boyfriend. And we’re going off to college this Fall.”

“True, but you never know, Heere.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. Rich and Jake just didn’t get it. Yeah, you two had problems, but every couple does. When he was dating Christine, they had problems, even before they broke up. Hell, he and Christine had problems before they even got together. But that didn’t mean you two were going to break up. You and your boyfriend had been together for a long time, almost a year if his mental math was correct. He was sure that any problems the two of you had, both of you would work past them (I remember when I was with my ex, people wanted us to date forever. Like, any problems we had didn’t matter because we had each other. I wanted Jeremy to seem suspicious, but to remember what literally everyone said online and in person about the reader and their boyfriend).

“Maybe ask them to hang out the next time to see them,” Jake suggested, breaking Jeremy out of his thoughts (In part 8, if you can recall, Rich knows. Rich has known for a long time and is just waiting for the moment the reader decides to leave. That means that Jake knows too. I actually didn’t plan that, but when I found the moment, I felt like it was genius).

“Yeah, the worst they can say is no, right?” Rich added.

“I guess you’re right. I do it the next time I see them.”

“You can text them, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t feel right to me,” Jeremy said.

“I give you credit for that, dude. Let’s bounce, Jenna’s probably waiting for us,” Rich said before making his way to the checkout (My original plan for Rich was for him to have a better idea than Jeremy of what was going on based off of the actions that the reader had around their boyfriend. I feel like Rich understands a lot of the things the reader goes through as someone who is mistreated constantly and someone who lives in chaos. Here, I wanted Rich to persuade Jeremy because he knows that Jeremy can bring order and happiness to you, even as friends).

In reality, Jeremy thought he got out of asking you out because he said he would do it in person. He was sure that he’d never see you again. Yeah, you two had the same circle of friends, but, again, it was rare to see you alone. And he couldn’t ask you out if you were standing right next to your boyfriend. And why were Rich and Jake so set on him asking you out? He knows for a fact that they’re both against the idea of cheating, so why in the world would they push him to ask you out? Maybe they meant as a friend thing. Yeah, they meant you two should be friends first and then if something happens, he could make his move, right?

Jeremy unpaused from Bioshock, his mind refocusing on the Big Daddies in the room. He had to get through this level (I’ve played Bioshock once. I thought it was difficult and didn’t have friendly controls for a beginner. I love the aesthetic, but I’ve never gotten past like level 1. So I made this level up. I know that everybody has their weak points when playing video games, so I thought people would immediately imagine that one level that they were stuck on for hours here. I can only hope it worked). Michael had been bothering him about it for weeks, and now that Michael was away with his family for some reunion, it was the perfect time to do it. After about an hour of little to no progress, Jeremy decided to grab something to drink. He glanced at the clock to make sure that he wasn’t staying up too late like he did with Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess that one time (Alright look: when Life is Strange: Before the Storm came out, I stayed up until 4 in the morning just playing the game. Like I specifically planned it that way. While I had no regrets the next day, I was deadass tired and absolutely grumpy. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t want grumpy Jeremy for part 8). The clock read 1:06, yeah, he was fine. He walked into his kitchen and grabbed a glass, his eyes getting used to the minimal light in the room. He jumped when he heard a knock at the door.

Oh fuck. Jeremy had seen people play Duck Season and Welcome to the Game enough times to know that it was a serial killer, no doubt about that (For those who don’t know: Duck Season is a game about a serial killer who comes out of a game similar to Duck Hunt. It is very obvious that it is a man in a suit, and there are multiple endings. It’s in VR, which makes the game even scarier. I still get chills thinking about how you look at the glass doors to the right and see the dog watching you, knife in hand. Creepy. Welcome to the Game is another scary game, but this time the protagonist kind of deserves it. He’s looking for a Red Room on the Dark Web, and you have to go deeper and deeper into it. As you go through the Dark Web, you have to listen for people in your house. If they show up, you have to turn off the lights and be quiet. This game uses the computer/console microphone, so you have to be quiet in real life to. The kidnapper is also hella scary). He ran into his garage and grabbed a bat from when his dad thought that maybe Jeremy would want to play sports. He never did, but thank god Mr. Heere bought it. He raised it before opening the door, his hands shaking. Jeremy prepped to swing, painfully regretting not paying attention during the baseball portion of PE in middle school. How the hell was he supposed to swing this baseball bat hard if he had never learned to swing it properly in the first place?

But opening the door was priority. He didn’t care if it was some kidnapper or some weirdo in a dog suit (I told you these games were creepy), he had to open the door at some point. His hand turned the door knob quickly and he wound up. The door flung open and what Jeremy saw was more than surprising.

“(Y/N)?” (My original cut was here, but I wanted to keep it all together).

“Hey Jeremy. I—uh—I’m really sorry about this but could I maybe—uhm,” you took a break to look behind you frantically (To show off the reader’s boyfriend was probably chasing them, which was something I was really afraid of. Funny, my ex didn’t drive while we were dating, and yet I was still terrified he’d chase me and find me), “come in? For like an hour? That’s all I need, really. It would be a really big help to me and—”

Jeremy opened the door wider, his bat swinging downward. He set the metal weapon beside the door frame as you stepped inside of his house. His mind was running wild, oh fuck he was going to have to ask you out because he promised Rich that he would—

“Thank you oh my god Jeremy, thank you so much dude I can’t even tell you how grateful I am, seriously you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem”, Jeremy responded, quickly remembering that his dad was definitely asleep. “Let’s go down into my basement so my dad won’t interrupt us.”

“Yeah, okay,” you spoke softly and nodded. Jeremy lead the way down into the basement, he flinched at the difference in lighting, the Bioshock pause screen displaying the same thing it did when he first started to try and get past this level just a few hours ago. Jeremy turned around and saw you somewhat flinch at the brightness of the light in his basement, so he moved swiftly to dim the lights.

“Thank you,” you repeated, keeping your eyes staring towards the floor (I wanted this night to be intimate and adorable. I wanted the lights to be like candle light, and I wanted it to be incredibly adorable, but helpful. Like I’ve said, I have been planning this night in my mind for the longest time as a just in case. My ex never hit me but that doesn’t mean he didn’t threaten it or block my exit or even slam doors in my face. So I had a location set up as a ‘he’s going to do it, I just don’t know when’. I know exactly where my escape is, and I know my friend that lives there would let me in).

“It’s okay, seriously,” Jeremy smiled slightly. He had no idea what the heck you were doing in his house at 1 AM, but even now you were trying your best to be polite. You looked up at him finally. Jeremy could see the tear tracks that ran down your face, red blotches were apparent even in the newly dimmed light from the floor lamp in the corner. His heart shattered at your crying state and at his own actions. How did he not notice before? How did he not take note of the wavering in your voice or even the tears that could be seen in your smile? Was he really so caught up in thinking that you were some serial killer that he didn’t take into account how you were doing or why you had shown up at his house at such a strange hour?

He quickly grabbed the box of tissues that rested on the TV stand from when Christine and Michael came over to watch Les Miserables. He thanked himself over and over for leaving it there just in case they had a similar situation again (This scene was actually supposed to go a lot differently. I rewrote the thing 3 times before I was happy enough to post it. Originally, Jeremy held onto the box of tissues, and keep offering the reader them. Like I said, I didn’t like that and I wanted something that showed off Jeremy’s kindness but also that the reader was somewhat capable of doing things themselves). Jeremy offered you a tissue, his hand gripping the box so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. To say he was tense was an understatement. He wanted to help, god he did, but he had no idea how to help. He didn’t even know what was wrong (My first draft of this, Jeremy knew what was wrong, which seems stupid now. The only person that would know exactly what happened would be Rich). Had someone attacked you while you were walking home? He knew you had his address from that group project that seemed like an era ago. Jeremy pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked at you, seeing if you needed another tissue.

As he watched you carefully, he noticed the shape of one of the blotches on your face. It was oblong, a shape he’d recognized before. It was larger than the rest and it seemed to have formed a welt on your skin. He stepped closer, to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was. He took another step, mind racing. As he did, you flinched and covered your face (In the original draft, Jeremy lifted his hand to touch the welt. I decided that I didn’t like that and it wasn’t real enough for me). When Jeremy saw your eyes again, they were filled with fear.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jeremy rushed out, his hand quickly pulling down the sleeves of his grey sweatshirt. “Let me grab an ice pack for you, okay?”

You nodded softly and Jeremy bolted up the stairs. He ran for the freezer, hoping that he had put an ice pack in there. He fumbled with his phone in his pocket, trying to call literally anyone to help him deal with this situation. He hit “recent” and then quickly tapped someone’s name as he grabbed an ice pack. Someone had slapped you for fuck’s sake (Like I said, Jeremy knew what had happened in the first draft. I wanted it to be a process, something that was a realization, rather than just knowing)! He needed help. God, who could have done this? Where had you been? Hopefully not at home, god Jeremy hoped not at home. An image popped into his head. Snapchat. Your boyfriend had posted on Snapchat. You two had been together for the night (I actually have the exact photo that I modeled this Snapchat after. I’m not going to post it, but if someone asks, I’ll happily describe it for you). He didn’t normally check your boyfriend’s Snapchat but Jeremy recalled getting it from the bonfire a month ago (Which is something that in real life would not have happened unless Rich forced it. But I still wanted Jeremy to think through where you’d come from).

You’d been at his house.

You’d been playing video games together.

You’d been slapped.

The pieces came together in Jeremy’s mind, but he didn’t have time to be mad now, he just needed to help you. His mind snapped out of its state as he heard a voice yell from his phone. Shit he forgot he was calling someone for a second.

Michael’s voicemail rang out, and Jeremy cursed him for going away for days when Jeremy absolutely needed him here (Originally, Jeremy just called Rich first. This whole scene with Michael’s voicemail didn’t happen. But I wanted Michael to be a part of the situation, even if that was Jeremy interacting with his voicemail). He quickly fumbled with his phone again, careful not to call Michael a second time. He didn’t care who it was, he just needed to get someone on the phone. A different voice yelled into his ear.

“Heere! What’s up dude? Need some help getting laid?” Rich? Really?! He’d called Rich?! But it was something, it was someone (I actually had him say something else at first. It was something about getting someone other than the reader, which I thought was a little much for him at 1 in the morning). He needed to talk to someone, and if Rich was willing to answer his call, so be it.

“Rich, listen to me. (Y/N) just came to my house and asked if they could stay for an hour, I said yes because they’re sweet and amazing, and I looked at their face in my basement and it’s clear they’ve been crying and I looked closer and one of the blotches on their skin looked like it wasn’t a blotch but like a welt and god I stepped closer and they stepped back and dude Rich someone hit them someone definitely hit them and I think they were at their boyfriend’s house and I can only assume that he—god, fuck, what do I do?” (When I was younger, like middle school age, I heard about multi-genre projects. There was one on the Salem Witch Trials and a specific letter that seemed like it was written by a 6 year old. I went after that vibe, which is why this paragraph doesn’t have very much punctuation. I wanted it to be rushed, and I wanted to show off just how much Jeremy rambles).

“Hey, Jeremy, slow down. That’s number one, okay? They’re probably really freaked out as it is. Did you leave them alone?”

“Yes, because I’m grabbing an ice pack.”

“Did you tell them you were doing that?”

“Of course and now I’m standing in my kitchen—”

“Good, you’re doing great, alright? Now, grab them some water and get back to them as soon as you can. If someone knocks on your door, do not answer it or leave them alone. It could be their boyfriend coming around to give them an even worse beating. Don’t let them do anything stupid, including drinking alcohol or smoking pot. Is Michael there?”

“No, he’s visiting family.”

“Alright perfect. More people might freak them out. Put a movie on or something to distract them. And no matter what they say, don’t let them drive anywhere until they’re completely stable (Ahahahaha I was a terrible driver when I was dating my ex. I specifically remember texting while driving, speeding, and being kind of reckless. My logic was: if I get into an accident, I’ll finally get a break from all this bullshit. Get there or die trying, right? I also wanted to see how my ex would react. I wasn’t entirely sure he really cared about me, so it would be kind of a test. I never did get into an accident, and now that I’ve been away from him for a while, I’m glad about that). Speak softly, try not to yell or scream. That will only make it worse. If they want to talk about it, let them. If not, don’t push it (There’s a post that was floating around that always makes me cry about how to treat your s/o if they’ve been sexually assaulted. I based this moment off of that. If you want to read it, I think you can search it up on my blog or something). They’re going to apologize and thank you a lot, but always accept the apology and say things like ‘it’s no problem’ or ‘I’m happy to have you here’ because the chances are that they’ve been enduring emotional manipulation and verbal abuse for months before this.”

“Anything else?”

“Ask often if they’re okay, and if you have to touch them, tell them what you’re doing.”

“Thank you so much, Rich.”

“No problem. I thought that this might be happening, and I’m glad they’re safe with you. That makes me really happy, dude. You didn’t have to let them in, and yet you did. Text me if you need any more help.”

“Thank you, Rich. I will.”

With that, Jeremy grabbed the ice pack and cup of water. He walked into his basement, taking slow steps to make sure that he wouldn’t startle you. His mind raced with the rules that Rich gave him. They all seemed easy enough to follow: keep you alone with him, don’t make any loud noises, shouting was a no, and essentially ask for consent before doing absolutely anything around you. While all of these things seemed like common sense, Jeremy couldn’t help but ask himself how many times had these rules been broken around you (Spoiler alert: many)?

The minute Jeremy saw you, his heart sped up. He had never seen you so open, so genuine, so bare (Bare: A Pop Opera anyone?). Your lip was between your teeth and tears were still swimming in your eyes. You were texting on your phone, fingers moving fast, but not as fast as he’d seen in the past. Your phone vibrated, and you jumped a little as more tears streamed down your face. Jeremy was reminded of what Rich said before and hoped that you weren’t texting your boyfriend again. That was the very last thing that you needed in this moment (The reader is actually texting their best friend, telling them they’re okay. I just thought you guys should know).

“Hey,” Jeremy started, making sure his voice was soft, “I brought you an ice pack and some water.” All you could muster in return was a nod as he took slow steps towards you, your back against the old loveseat that used to sit in his living room (You know that feeling like you’ve cried so much that you’re numb? That’s what I was going for here). You sat on the floor, only near the beanbags rather than on them. It was almost as if you would offend the furniture if you sat on it.

As he got closer to you, he sank further and further down to your level. He set the water beside you, careful not to tower over your small figure. You were already scared and intimidated enough as it was. Your head whipped around and you began to watch his every move. He got slower and started to sit down next to you, your eyes never leaving him. Jeremy switched the hand that the ice pack was in, and he finally met your gaze. “Do you mind if I ice your face to…uhh…help prevent swelling?” (Ice prevents swelling, heat helps it go down. Just wanted to say that just in case you go through surgery or are trying to help something that’s swollen)

“Yeah, go ahead,” you whimpered out.

Jeremy’s heart shattered for the second time that night. You had always seemed so brave and so composed. Seeing the opposite; a breakdown, was almost too much for him (One of my friends from school posted a fanfic once, and I loved this line. So I decided to use it, with her permission of course. She doesn’t write anymore, at least that I know of, and that particular fanfic has been left for dead). But he had to continue. He had gotten your consent, he just needed to tell you what he was going to do. “Alright, I’m gonna brush your hair out of the way, and then put the pack on your face. That’s all. I promise.”

You nodded and whispered, “I believe you.” (Originally, I had the reader say nothing. But I wanted to show off their trust) Jeremy took a breath and began to move slowly. At first, you started to move away from his hand and flinching slightly. His fingers started at your forehead and began to move your hair to the side as best as he could. As his hands worked, he noticed you getting calmer around his presence. You relaxed even more as the ice pack was placed on your face. Jeremy exhaled, finally relaxing himself as relief washed over him. Thank goodness you’d made it to his house before things got any worse.

Instead of watching him, your eyes remained looking straight forward. He understood parts of why you wouldn’t look at him, but couldn’t wrap his head around what you were feeling. He replayed Rich’s words once more. The chances are that they’ve been enduring emotional manipulation and verbal abuse for months before this. As much as Jeremy wanted to say and do the right things, he had no idea what those things are. He had no clue how to help you (I’ve read lots of things where Jeremy has no idea what to say, and I wanted that headcannon to be apparent here. However, I didn’t want to show off how awkward it would be. I wanted the silence to be calm and comfortable, even if the circumstances weren’t). Hell, he didn’t even know what to do when you showed up at his house. He had to call someone. How lame is that?

Jeremy came back from his thoughts and moved the ice pack slightly to cover a little bit more of the welt that covered one side of your face. His mind began to wander a little bit and as it did, he realized that there could be more cuts and bruises that he couldn’t see. Shit, he should probably tend to them before they get infected or something. He eyed your hoodie for a second before deciding that he should ask before he tried to nurse any wounds. It was your privacy and the last thing he wanted to do was invade it, but something told him to ask and take a look. He didn’t want to be kicking himself later for not being a good friend and helping out as best as he could.

He took another breath before stuttering out “A-Are there any more…Are there any more…uhh…like…injuries?”

Tears appeared in your eyes again and one fell down your face. You remained stoic, the tear falling ever so slowly down your face (I wanted to show off numbness here). You inhaled before squeezing your eyes shut and allowed more tears to escape (And now I wanted feeling. That contrast was very important to me, making sure to show off the numbness followed by the pain, and only going back to being numb again. It’s a cycle, both the abuse, and what abuse victims go through). Nothing was said between the two of you as you rolled up your sleeves and flattened your hood. Jeremy sat for a second. He had totally missed the fact that your hood was more like a scarf than anything else, almost as if you were trying to cover hickeys. He was extremely worried for what he would find (That includes the hickeys. Because if Jeremy found hickeys, his heart would break. And even worse yet, he wouldn’t be sure if they were something you consented. And I feel like if he did find them instead of what he did find, Jeremy would know what to do, just because of “Do You Wanna Hang?”. I tried my hardest to incorporate that Jeremy knows what it’s like to have someone advance on you when you don’t want it, if that makes any sense at all).

You put any long hair you had up as Jeremy once again snapped out of his thoughts. He scanned your arms and noticed a red mark that was steadily turning blue around your elbow (I don’t bruise easily at all, but I’m sure that I would’ve had these same marks). There was an extremely similar one on your wrist as well, both bruising marks resembling a hand that grabbed you with no mercy (I imagined the wrist injury happening because the reader tried to walk away, but their boyfriend grabbed them and pulled them back). Jeremy decided to scan the rest of your body; that had to be the worst, right?

His eyes stopped scanning at your neck. There were clear bruises around it, fingertips that had clearly grabbed the side of it. There was really only one explanation for those marks: your boyfriend had choked you, and he assumed that it wasn’t the kinky kind (I actually knew my ex’s plan of attack. He wasn’t fast by any means, but if he did end up hitting me, I was 99% sure he’d go for choking before anything else). How stupid he’d been just minutes ago, assuming that those marks on your arms were the worst you’d been through.

Jeremy could feel anger bubbling up inside of him. He could feel himself starting to grip the ice pack. How dare your boyfriend mistreat you like this? How dare he instill fear into you? Jeremy swore in that moment to make sure that your boyfriend went through the same pain you did, and then some. It wouldn’t be hard, he could easily recruit Rich and Jake, hell maybe even Michael. He could ruin his reputation via Jenna, Chloe, and Brooke, no questions asked.

While Jeremy was plotting your boyfriend’s demise, you recognized his anger. You started to pull away and pull your sleeves down (psst I still do this). Jeremy’s eyes immediately met yours. He didn’t mean to scare you, no no no, he wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to hold you in only the warmest embraces, and make you smile incredibly wide all the time. That was also when he noticed that he had removed the ice pack from your face. He had probably done it with sharp movements and of course without telling you first. Dear god, he had broken almost all of Rich’s rules in 30 seconds. Jeremy could feel the fear radiating off of your body.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? It’s just me. I’m sorry I got so angry. I’m just going to move the ice pack to your neck where it’s starting to bruise, okay?” (This is how you make an apology, just letting you know)

“Okay.”

“Alright,” he replied before shakily before following through with the actions he’d promised he’d make. His touch was slow and gentle, even though his hands were rather rough. He looked at you with concerned eyes as he practically shook with nervousness and contained anger. And though he was definitely doing to evoke some pain on your boyfriend, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you again. It was quiet, but the silence was a comfort, not awkward. It was two people enjoying one another’s presence. The dim light of the floor lamp in to corner actually was calming after a while. It almost resembled candle light, the room being lit with only the most gentle and warm toned light. It was almost as if nothing harsh could happen in that moment.

“Thank you.”

“W-Wha?”

You spoke without hesitation, eyes still staring at the wall. “I said ‘thank you’. I really appreciate you being here for me.”

“It’s no problem,” Jeremy decided to be more conscious of Rich’s instructions, but still say the words he wanted to. “I’m happy—”

“No, Jeremy,” you looked at him now with wide eyes. “Thank you. Seriously, I have no idea how to repay you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’m just looking after a friend,” he gave a soft smile and tried to lighten the mood a little bit.

You two shared a warm moment for just the slightest of seconds before your phone started vibrating. Jeremy watched as you went from somewhat calmed to a state of panic again. It was in that moment that he realized that panic at times like the senior cruise were a luxury. You didn’t often build up to that, it just happened. And Jeremy knew that was exhausting. 0 to 60 in terms of panicking was similar to being on a really intense roller coaster. One that shoots you instead of giving you the suspenseful build up. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to only function like that. No wonder you looked so tired all the time.

The cold fear remained in your eyes as you checked the caller ID. “Shit, that’s my mom. She’s wondering where I am.”

Jeremy’s mind started racing, trying to come up with some excuse as to why you’d be at his house at this hour. You could tell your mom what happened, but something told him that he was one of few that knew what was actually going on between you and your boyfriend. The best thing that Jeremy could come up with was working on a project. But he knew that that wouldn’t work as a lie; school had been over for weeks. It didn’t take long for another idea to make an appearance. “Tell her you had to drop something off. Like, I don’t know something from the bonfire that you borrowed.”

While you were answering the phone, Jeremy went over the excuse again in his head. With this excuse, you didn’t need to drive right away, which is exactly what he wanted. There was no way you could drive while panicking. Hell, he knows from personal experience that breathing is hard when you’re panicking. Driving would be like jumping off of a cliff and expecting to fly. Or the SQUIP working with Mountain Dew Red instead of plain Mountain Dew. You couldn’t do it. You driving wouldn’t be safe, and Jeremy had kind of made a promise to himself to keep you safe. He listened into your side of the conversation, hoping the excuse worked (I’m including the mom’s commentary below).

“Hi mom (Where are you, your curfew was an hour ago?)…uh huh…I just had to run to Jeremy’s house (Jeremy from your extracurriculars?)…no mom (Jeremy who then?)…Jeremy Heere (I don’t know who that is.)…I worked on a group project with him in government (Oh. And how else do you know him?)…yeah he was at the bonfire (You went to a bonfire?)…at Rich’s house (Oh that’s right)…I had to return something to him (What did you have to return?)…Well, he lent me his sweater because I was cold (Why did you borrow from Jeremy and not your boyfriend? Did he not have one?)…No, he didn’t have one (Why didn’t you return it at the end of the night?)…I had to wash it first (Why did you do that?)…That’s the polite thing to do, mom (Alright, will you be home soon?)…Yes I will be home soon (Okay, the door is locked so you’ll have to use your key)…uh huh (I’ll see you in the morning)…okay…bye mom (Bye (Y/N).)…see you soon.”

Your hands shook as you hung up, but you managed to keep your breathing normal. Jeremy had to act fast, faster than he did at the senior cruise, that’s for sure. But then again, he did have to ask for consent and tell you exactly what he was going to do. Plus, he couldn’t have any sharp movements. This was definitely going to be harder than that level in Bioshock that he was trying to beat before you came over. Without thinking, Jeremy blurted out: “Hey, can I take your hands? You seem overwhelmed, I just want to help.”

Relief washed over Jeremy as you nodded your head. He quickly joined his hands with yours and began to say things that he knew helped other people. Jeremy had the most experience with Michael, so he resorted to the things that help Michael calm down. He said sweet things like “I’m here for you,” and “I’m not going anywhere,” he added in a few “You’re safe,” and “It’s okay,” for you and the situation. Within minutes, you had calmed down and had moved into his chest, hot tears staining his t-shirt. He didn’t mind, though. The shirt could be washed (I was always confused by fanfic writers saying that the shirt was stained forever. Like, washing machines exist you guys). He calmly rubbed your back, his hand moving with only the lightest touch (This is actually super calming to me, and I love it). Even though you were calmed, Jeremy continued to say calming things to you, keeping his voice as light as his touch. He even began to list the things he liked about you, from the way you flip the hair out of your face to the way you loop your L’s when you write (I write in half cursive, don’t judge me).

You two stayed like that for a few minutes. When the hot tears stopped and the world was still, Jeremy could feel you pulling away a little (Think: Life is Strange: Before the Storm episode 3 when Chloe is comforting Rachel). He loosened his grip, allowing you the freedom that you wanted. You moved only slightly away, your faces inches apart from one another’s. “Hey Jer?” you asked, voice slightly stronger than before.

“Yeah?” he responded. Your eyes shifted downwards from his eyes to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?” (I wasn’t going to originally cut this at all, you’d have to read 6-8k words in one go. I decided that maybe wasn’t the best idea) you asked, voice breathy and weaker than just a second ago. Jeremy nodded his head, and almost immediately, you softly put your lips on his.

The kiss started sweet, almost giving towards each person. You became needier in the kiss, slightly moving your lips. Jeremy picked up on your cues and began to find the rhythm you set for the kiss. You slowly dragged your tongue across his bottom lip, almost begging for an entrance. A very soft and breathy moan erupted from the two of you as he allowed the kiss to deepen. You ran your fingers through his hair as his hands found your waist and began to rub circles into them.

Jeremy was so sweet, so passionate in the way he kissed. You wanted to hold him forever, your arms being the lifeline into the care and love that you craved. He wasn’t super active and not forceful in the slightest (I just want to take note that this is the first time we’re getting the reader’s point of view. I wanted to show off that they’ve finally been listened to and that someone finally cared. I also wanted to show off that they were finally happy and content, even if it wasn’t with their boyfriend). You were used to rough and hard; a hand on your neck preventing you from breaking the kiss no matter how hard you tried. Jeremy was perfectly consensual, perfectly caring about your feelings. He listened to you. How often did boys do this, especially for you? Almost never. If this was your only chance, goddamn it, you were going to take it. You felt Jeremy move his hand from your waist and place it on your collar bone, pushing you back a little bit. You pulled away, looking into his eyes, only to see them flutter open.

“We can’t do this,” he gasped out.

“What do you mean?”

“I would be taking advantage of you. I mean, you’ve had a hard night, and maybe this is a mistake.” (I CAN’T EVEN WRITE FOREPLAY ALRIGHT)

You nodded before walking away from Jeremy. You stared at the floor and he knew that you were embarrassed about whatever that kiss was. He had to admit, kissing you was far better than he’d ever imagined. You were soft and sweet, and yet he was enthralled with how passionate you got. But tonight was not the night to keep kissing you and confess his love. Right now, you needed comfort and not in any sort of physical way (Actually, I did have someone in my life that was very sweet and I actively wanted to cheat on my boyfriend with. It was literally like he was my Jim Pottamer. So, Jeremy in this sense, was a very real person. But it would definitely have been like Waitress and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take that route. For future reference, I still might).

There were a few moments of silence before you spoke up again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. I understand where you’re coming from,” Jeremy said, his ears still a little pink.

“No, I mean it, I didn’t even check to make sure it was okay with you to go that far—”

“It’s fine, I promise,” Jeremy looked at you with the softest expression he could muster.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m positive.”

He was absolutely fine with it, actually more than just fine. If there was one thing he thought he was going to do that night, making out with you was not part of his original plans. You were quiet for a few minutes, and the silence was deafening.

“I know you probably want to go home right now, but I’m not sure if I want you driving when you’re still a little panicky. If you want, you can stay here a bit longer and relax.”

You looked at him, eyes becoming soft. “Jeremy, you don’t have to, I mean after the way I just acted and god I’m still at your house and using your dishes and talking too much, I haven’t even asked how you are I just waltzed in and used you like you were nothing, I’ve been an awful guest, I should just go, I’m sorry Jeremy, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to come in here and do all of this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay?” (Apologies are a reflex. I wanted to be sure that it showed)

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jeremy started, “It’s like I said. We’re friends. I’m here for you.”

“But I don’t deserve—”

“You deserve the entire world,” Jeremy interrupted. He couldn’t bear to hear you say that you didn’t deserve every ounce of happiness and care that the world could give you. “You deserve kindness. You deserve to be happy, to be with someone who looks at you like you’re the entire galaxy. You deserve to be cared for, and feel like you can voice your feelings and opinions. I know that I don’t fully understand what’s going on in your life right now, or even how to help make everything better for you, but I do know that you deserve so much better than this whole situation.”

There was silence again as your eyes became red. You wiped a hot tear away before taking a breath. “Can I hug you?” you asked him shakily (I just want to throw this out: if someone asks for consent on everything, either they’ve been instructed to, or they’ve been through things they can’t describe in detail without breaking down).

“Of course,” Jeremy assured. He opened his arms and you gladly walked up to him and gave him the tightest hug you could muster. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand rubbing your back to help you calm down. As his fingers gently moved up and down, he could feel something wet on his fingertips. He stopped for a second to see what had gotten on his hand (I originally didn’t plan on blood, a first aid kit, or even Jeremy’s dad finding out. I’m happy I included it, now though).

On his fingertips was a small swipe of orange that could be see even in the dull lighting of the room. Jeremy could feel his hands get shaky and the smallest amount of sweat beginning to form. Even though in the back of his mind, Jeremy knew what the substance was, he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to get more people involved if he didn’t have to. Rich had said that it would be a bad idea to have others around you. His mind raced through the rules that he had broken before. There was a flicker of hope in him, but that’s all it was: a flicker.

Jeremy’s first move was to get the sweatshirt off of you. He could only imagine what could have caused it to seep through your hoodie. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. If it didn’t get the attention it needed, you could bleed out, which would mean definitely taking you to the hospital, which would only resort in your parents finding out, possible lies, and getting way too many people into your situation. This was private. These moments were private. Your relationship, to the rest of the world, was private. You were isolated.

But step one was still to get that sweatshirt off. He inhaled, fluttering his eyes closed in preparation for whatever your reaction would be and what the injury looked like. “Hey, I think you’re bleeding,” he noted, voice wavering at only a frequency that could be noticed by the truly observant. You moved slowly, almost carefully, away from him. Your head turned, eyes glazed over with a sense of numbness, as if you were expecting this to happen. Shoulders dropping, you took off your hoodie and discarded it beside you. You faced away from Jeremy once again so he could examine your back.

To say Jeremy was shocked was an understatement. On your back was a golf ball size spot of red, surrounded by little spots around it. The rest spot was definitely soaked through and probably was not going to come out of the fabric. Jeremy had to think fast; he needed a first aid kit. As soon as he realized that, Jeremy frowned painfully. The only first aid kit in the house was in his dad’s bathroom. He’d have to sneak past his sleeping dad. He wished for the days when his dad slept heavily and for long periods of time, like before the SQUIP. Now, he slept peacefully, but a little lighter than the average person. The smallest creak in the floor could wake him up, so getting to the first aid kit in the bathroom that was across from the door would be a major mine field. You definitely needed to get cleaned up, though.

“Stay here for a second, I’m going to grab the first aid kit,” Jeremy said, already trying to figure out how he was going to get the first aid kit without disturbing his dad. He got confirmation that you’d heard him by nodding your head. He quietly and somewhat quickly got up and decided that he’d just roll with the punches. Whatever happens, he could still lie and get the first aid kit, no problem.

He walked up the stairs as quietly as he could, immediately wishing he had the stealth armor that you could get from Kakariko Village in Breath of the Wild. One stair made a loud creak, and Jeremy froze. The silence could almost be felt in the darkness. When his dad’s soft snores continued, Jeremy moved. He cursed himself as he moved a little slower than before. He knew that creak was there, how could he have forgotten? He stepped carefully, breathing through his mouth and keeping his steps even. When he got to his dad’s door, his hands gripped the door handle. With precision, he opened the door as slowly as he could (I’ve snuck into my parent’s room about a hundred times. I feel like that’s really apparent here).

The room was quiet, and in that moment, Jeremy wished that his air conditioner was louder than it actually was. That stupid salesperson and their eco friendly air system that is “practically silent” (Shoutout to that one lady that sold us a dishwasher and said all dishwashers are now eco friendly. You really saved this scene, and my 11 year old self thanks you for this idea now). At least the room was carpeted and that he was wearing socks. That way, his steps could be softer; quieter. Jeremy took a few steps forward, each one as careful as the last. Carefully moving took less time moving on a flat surface, unlike the stairs. You also needed that first aid kit soon, so Jeremy knew he could move a little bit faster. So, the next three steps were the quickest steps he’d taken since he’d grabbed your ice pack. When Jeremy was a little kid and had nightmares, he did this quite often. It was almost an obstacle course of silence. In fact, he had done this so many times as a little kid, he could map out in the pitch black where the creaks in the floor were. He had long forgotten the map of those spots and Jeremy filled with regret.

Snapping back into reality, Jeremy’s foot hit the ground a little harder than the other steps and a creak rang out in the room. Shit. He froze like a deer in the headlights. His dad rolled over and snores escaped him once again. Thank god his dad hadn’t woken up. The bathroom was only three feet away, meaning the first aid kit was about 6 or 7 feet away from him. If his memory was correct, there are no creaks on the bathroom floor. It had been months, maybe even years since he’d been in there, but he was near positive that he could walk freely in the bathroom.

Jeremy decided to move quickly again, delicacy thrown out the window. His steps were heavier, but quicker. He supposed that he could afford a little noise, especially if his dad hadn’t woken up at the previous creak. He stepped into the bathroom, and decided to turn on the light so he wouldn’t accidentally knock anything over. The first aid kit was under the sink, meaning barely any light got down there anyways. He’d need the light to see what he was grabbing. So, he shut the door and turned on the light. The sink’s cabinet opened with no creaks; which was a relief to the lanky boy. Jeremy grabbed the first aid kit and noticed his pale palms were covered with sweat. This was a new thing for him. Not the sweat, but the sneaking. He had snuck around before, but god this was a situation that he wasn’t ready to handle. He’d have to be, though. He needed to keep you safe. His hand gripped the side of the box, palms sweating more than they ever had before.

“Jeremy?” Mr. Heere asked, opening the door and eyes squinting at the light.

The boy dropped the kit, the white metal making a large bang on the hard ground. “Dad?!”

“What are you doing?” his dad’s voice asked while staying calm. He looked at the kit that now rested silently on the floor. “Is everything okay?”

Thoughts raced through Jeremy’s mind; he needed an excuse that made sense but kept you safe. He couldn’t bring up Michael, Mr. Heere knew that he was away visiting family. Jeremy could feel his face drain of color. Nothing came to mind, so Jeremy just decided that brushing off his dad’s questions might be the best bet he had. He took a second to look at his dad, grabbing the box and tried to bolt past his dad.

The older man only moved slightly, completely blocking Jeremy’s exit. “Jeremy, you should tell me if something is wrong. I want to help you. I know I’ve been silent for who knows how long, but I’m here for you, okay?”

The teen took a breath. Even though his feet were firmly planted into the ground, anxious tears began to run down Jeremy’s face. “You…Dad...” (I also didn’t plan on Jeremy crying, but I felt like this was a crucial moment. Jeremy’s breaking down walls and showing his vulnerability to the first person that isn’t the reader. He needs to be the stable one in the basement, but I felt like running to his dad would be a cute moment. I also had to find a way to get the reader home before sunrise)

Mr. Heere nodded, waiting for his son to finish his sentence, “Take your time.” (Implying Mr. Heere is used to Jeremy’s anxiety and possible PTSD)

“You can’t tell anyone. W-We uhh— We can’t get anyone involved. Not yet anyways. Okay?”

Jeremy’s dad paused for a second, eyes looking downwards. “Are you in danger?” He asked carefully, hoping the weird computerized pill had not made a reentrance. If that was the case, he’d have to grab the Mountain Dew Red from his nightstand and get Michael involved, no matter how much Jeremy protested. Mr. Heere searched for a flinch, a shock, anything to tell him that his son was in trouble just in case the wiring in his mind didn’t allow him to speak freely. He looked for everything Michael told him to look for; straightening of the spine, any style changes, and most importantly, attitude changes or straight up ignoring other people, especially Michael.

Jeremy shook his head. The tears will still flowing and he wished that instead of going through this, he had just texted or even called Rich. In his mind, it would’ve been better to call the red haired boy to ask him to bring over a first aid kit and how to approach somewhat heavily bleeding injuries. Hiding the truth from his dad, especially when his dad was trying, was almost like drinking spoiled milk. Jeremy decided in that moment that being vague was key to getting away from this conversation without putting you into too much danger. “I-It’s my uhh friend. T-They’re in some—” he swallowed hard, “trouble.”

Mr. Heere nodded at his son’s words. “Do you need any help?”

“Maybe.” Jeremy’s dad nodded before opening the door to let Jeremy get back to his friend. The older man turned away, leaving Jeremy to do what he needed to, no questions asked. A fresh wave of tears escaped Jeremy’s eyes, “They’re bleeding dad, I don’t know what to do.”

Jeremy’s dad stopped and turned around. “Where?” (It seems like a bad line, but depending on where is very important. You’d treat a knife wound on your finger differently than a deep scratch on your leg)

“Their back. I don’t know if I should just cover it with like a band-aid or gauze or whatever—”

“Do you want me to take a look?” he asked, stopping Jeremy from spiraling out of control.

Jeremy’s dad could not take a look. That was number one. He needed to keep you safe and his dad might call the police if he thought you were in bad enough shape. As much as Jeremy did want to take you to the police station, now might not be the best time to do it (Rich didn’t tell him to do it, Jeremy is not going to do it). He could recall asking Jake why he hadn’t taken Rich to the police station. Jake’s response was lots of times abusers get away with this stuff. When they get away, they just hurt their victim more. Sometimes you see in the news abuse victims dead because their friend or whatever thought it would be a good idea to report the abuse or send the police to the batterer’s home, only to find the victim the next day, dead in the dirt. Telling the police could kill you, and Jeremy definitely didn’t want that.

Hell, even getting you out of the house was a risk enough. If you were spotted by your boyfriend outside, that would be the end of it, “it” being your friendship with Jeremy or your life (Some people know where their victim is and camp outside of wherever they are, waiting for the victim to come out. That’s what I was trying to get at).Even if you were just spotted through the windshield, or jeez, he knew what your car looked like, your plan would fail, and you’d be in serious danger once again. And if there was one thing that Jeremy did not want to do, it was cause you more pain.

“No, I don’t think it’s necessary,” Jeremy said, voice still shaky.

“Okay,” Jeremy’s dad nodded, eyes glancing at the floor again. “Let me tell you a trick I learned in Boy Scouts many years ago.” The older man met eyes with his son (Mr. Heere was definitely in Boy Scouts you can rip that headcannon from my cold dead hands). He got a little closer and took it from Jeremy’s grasp. His hands gentle opened the kit, careful not to spill anything onto the floor. Mr. Heere’s eyes softened at Jeremy’s red eyes and shallow breath. There was no doubt in his mind that a lot had happened in however many hours Jeremy spent helping whoever this friend was.

“If the largest band-aid doesn’t cover the mark, that’s when you use gauze. We don’t have massive band-aids, so you’re probably going to use gauze. The rule is only a few layers, and you want the wound to breathe. You place tape on all sides so that no blood seeps out. Make sure to clean the cut as much as you can. It can sting, so remember to be gentle. Make sure you use this tape,” Mr. Heere said, holding up what most actors use as microphone tape. “It’s sticky, and I know you’re familiar with it.”

Jeremy’s dad closed the box, keeping the contents in tact. Jeremy nodded and grabbed the box from his dad’s grasp. “If you need me, I’ll be up here. It’s almost 2:30. If they need a ride, let me know.”

“Actually dad,” Jeremy said, his mind thinking of a possible solution to get your home fast and safely so your parents don’t freak out about their child being gone for so long. “Could you drive their car to their house? I’ll drive them so they can be comfortable but, uhh—”

“Their parents don’t know where they are?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy muttered, hoping that his dad would just drive your car, no questions asked. Normally, he could ask Michael to do it, but at this point, it was probably better for his dad to help him out with the situation.

“Got it, Jeremy. Let me know when you’re ready to go. I won’t say a word, no matter what. I’ll keep the bathroom light on so I don’t accidentally fall asleep.”

“Thank you, dad.” Jeremy said, a smile finally emerging from the corners of his mouth.

“Anytime, Jeremy.”

Mr. Heere let Jeremy through and heard him rush down the stairs.

As awkward and terrible as that conversation with his dad was, Jeremy was glad that he finally had a plan. He also realized that he could make as much noise as he wanted or needed to. It was almost as if all high stakes were gone for a minute. Everything was now just a little bit easier for both him and you, which was his original goal in the first place. He got down to the middle level of his house and stood at the top of the basement stairs.

He got memories of when he was a little kid and afraid of the basement. Now that he was somewhat an adult, he was ironically still scared of the basement. Not because he was worried there was a monster or something, but because he was nervous about helping you. As much as he could follow the rules and advice from both Rich and his dad, Jeremy could still fail (Jeremy has some anxiety, I have some anxiety. I wanted to reflect that. Like, remember when I said I was scared to leave the house? I decided that Jeremy realized that you leaving could be dangerous). You could make it home, but still be in danger. He didn’t want you to be stuck somewhere; he didn’t want this moment of calm between you two to end. Taking a breath and wiping his eyes of any excess tears, Jeremy quietly made his way down the stairs.

When he got to the bottom, he witnessed you on your phone once again. It’s not like he could blame you, though. While it looked like you were texting, he could never be too sure. You could be looking up resources to help you get out of this situation. You could even be on the phone with the police or getting your hands on a possible lawyer to get a restraining order. He just hoped that you weren’t texting your boyfriend (Spoiler alert: the reader was texting their best friend again).

But you couldn’t be texting that asshole. There was no panic to you, at least not anymore. You were calmly typing away. No tears, no visible pain, but just…you. He almost wanted to walk back up the stairs and leave you be for the night. Your face was only slightly lit from the blue light from your phone; making only your brightest features shine. Jeremy swore in that moment that he’d never seen a more delicate sight. He swallowed hard, making sure not to startle you.

“Hey,” he gave a smile, “I have the first aid kit.”

You looked at him, a little bit of light shining in your eyes. However, this time, it wasn’t from the dull glow from your phone. It was genuine, he could tell. You mirrored his smile before your eyes scanned him up and down. Jeremy wanted to drink in this moment, this basic conversation that seemed so quiet, so secluded from the rest of the world. He took a step forward and opened the kit. You didn’t watch him carefully, instead you made room beside you so he could sit down. Your demeanor had changed, it was almost like it was just you two being friends and had played video games much longer than your curfew. The silence crept in and stayed, almost a comfort to each person in the basement. The actions were similar to a typical Friday night, as if the events from before hadn’t happened at all.

As he sat down, you turned your back to Jeremy so that he could examine the cut. Based off of tonight, this was not typical behavior. Normally, you’d watch him, watch his hands, muscles tense and fear radiating off of your body. But this was different. You were as comfortable as he was, which was shocking for both of you. And Jeremy knew in this moment, something special was going on.

Looking at the cut again, he noticed that it was low enough for him to reach without violating your privacy (Here I was playing with Jeremy accidentally seeing the texts on the reader’s phone instead of them showing the texts to Jeremy in the diner. I think I’m happier with the way it turned out without the unneeded snooping). But of course, Jeremy needed to ask because it would be more than rude or creepy to just go for it. Plus, he didn’t want to violate any more rules that night. “Can I lift this up a little to look at the mark?”

“Sure, Jeremy. I trust you.”

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. The lanky boy set the kit on the floor next to him and held a cleaning wipe in his right hand. His hand shook as he lifted up the back of your shirt, careful not to touch you any more than he needed to.

The moment he lifted the fabric, even the little bit he had to, he saw red marks covering your back. They were marks he’d never seen before, each of them small round circles or almost fat crescents. His eyes scanned for the one that was bleeding and found it almost immediately. It was deeper than the others and still oozing the slightest amount of blood. It wasn’t on your spine, thank goodness, but rather too close for comfort. His fingers grazed over the bleeding cut. “This is going to sting,” he said, hoping that those words weren’t entirely true. Jeremy didn’t want to hurt you any more, but this was the only way to clean the cut enough so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’m just going to swab down your cuts. Nothing more. Maybe some gauze in a few minutes.”

“Got it.”

Jeremy moved gently once again. He placed the cold wipe onto your skin, just barely grazing the cut before you practically yelped and flinched away from him. He jumped back as well, fear coursing through his veins. You relaxed as quickly as you jumped up. The teenager could hear the smile in your voice as you spoke: “I didn’t think it’d be so cold or sting that much. Sorry for jumping like that.” The smile faded by the time you got to your apology (I wanted to make the reader self sufficient, but in this case, I wanted her to need help and to finally break down their walls. If you’ve noticed, I’ve done almost everything to prove that, even down to showing bare skin).

Your apologizing almost seemed like a reflex. After all the times you’d said you were sorry tonight, he could only imagine how often you said it around your boyfriend. He wondered how often those apologies meant nothing to your boyfriend and somehow everything to you. There was some darkness lingering in the back of his mind; saying that your boyfriend dismissed your apologies as he would with a fly in the room or a face passing by in a crowd. The grimace that Jeremy had seen many times before appeared in his mind. How many times had you apologized to that face? How many times had you meant every “sorry” you uttered, but he meant absolutely none of them? How many times were you ignored, hell even your basic needs ignored because he stood in the way of them (Spoiler Alert: many many times, including real life. My eating disorder wasn’t me on my own, and every time a restaurant has a menu with calorie counts on them, I get STRESSED)?

The lanky boy realized how long it had been since he’d said something and decided to say something so your apology to a completely natural reaction was accounted for. “It’s totally okay.”

He tried cleaning the cut again, this time placing his hand near the mark so the cold wipe wouldn’t catch you by surprise again. His hand with the wipe moved gently across your skin, careful not to disturb the gash any more than he needed to. Jeremy stopped cleaning after about five minutes. Without all the dried blood around it, the mark actually looked at lot better. But just to be safe, he decided to cover it with gauze to get a more sealed finish. If your parents found out about this, he was sure he’d never get to see you again. He shuddered at that thought. As soon as he was done, he opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to the punch (I didn’t intend this pun don’t hate me please).

“Those are from kicks,” You spoke a little softer than before. “I didn’t think they’d get this bad.” He could hear a chuckle in your voice, but wasn’t sure why you were laughing. Maybe it was a way of coping with the truth (It still is). And in that moment, all of those questions from before were answered: Too many times had your apologies and basic needs meant nothing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so Jeremy just stayed quiet for a second. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still concentrating on opening the cleaning cloth. He waited a second, trying not to get extremely angry at the words you’d just uttered and the answer to his questions he didn’t have the heart to ask you. He’d just processed the words, but knew that getting angry now was not the ideal. Not like he did before, at least. He decided that maybe instead of bringing up your boyfriend again, he’d give you a warning. He spoke a second later, keeping his cool as much as he could. “All right, I’m done.”

“Thank you again, Jeremy. For everything tonight. I should probably get going, though,” you said, turning to put your newly bandaged back onto Jeremy’s couch, your profile just as beautiful to the awkward boy as looking at your entire face. In that moment, Jeremy swore you didn’t have a bad angle.

“About that,” Jeremy started, his eyes immediately beelining for the ground. “Is it okay if my dad drives your car and I drive you home? That way, you don’t have to face your parents and stay away from driving. Plus, if you need to hide in a hurry, you can do that. Or like if your boyfriend notices your car, it’ll be my dad driving and not you.” (Originally, I had it planned where Rich was going to bring ice cream and the reader would stay until morning. I decided that maybe that wasn’t ideal, and I wasn’t completely satisfied with that).

You smiled, your eyes shining brighter than the fullest of moons (I love the moon). “That’s a great idea. Where’d you come up with that?”

Jeremy sat for a second, thinking over how exactly he came up with that plan. He wasn’t sure, so he decided to jokingly make something up. “You know, I’ve been trying to get past this Bioshock level, maybe I was in a puzzle solving mindset. Michael has been trying to get me to beat it for weeks, but I haven’t been able to.”

Your eyes clouded over with confusion for a second. “Michael—isn’t he the boy that wears the red hoodie that has like Pacific Northwest vibes? And he loves music? Wears sick headphones that are sometimes white?”

“That’s him! He’s my best friend,” Jeremy paused. “Yeah, he’s been with me through everything.”

“Oh right. Something happened at the play Junior year. I don’t know a lot about it, but I’m happy Michael was there for you.”

“Yeah.” He gave an awkward smile, his shoulders almost reaching the corners of his mouth. There was a silence between you two for a second, before you looked at Jeremy sharply, a smile painting your features.

“Where did Michael get his Pacific Northwest vibe?” You asked, not breaking eye contact with Jeremy.

“Well, this one time we played Life is Strange and that’s when he started saying ‘hella’ and basically became Chloe Price, but maybe less punk rock and family issue driven.” (Someone said that they thought Michael lived in California at one time because he says ‘hella’. My thoughts are no way, he just really likes Life is Strange. I also feel like Michael really loves Kate Marsh and Rachel Amber, but in like a friendly ‘I really care about them’ way).

Your smile somehow got wider at his answer. “I love it and honestly support it.”

Jeremy noticed that you looked at your phone right after that, the time reading 2:45 in the morning. He had to get you home soon, that was for sure. As much as he loved these moments with you; moments of seemingly infinite bliss and beauty, they had to end. For some reason, during this time with you, it felt like the world couldn’t lay a finger on either of you. It felt like everything was as it should be, it felt simple. It felt like that domestic life that Jeremy for some reason craved with you. It felt right.

“Shit is it really almost 3? I promised an hour, Jeremy. I’m sorry, it’s been almost 2.” You said, cheeks completely flushing of color (I wanted to show off that the reader knew they made a mistake, and wasn’t sure how Jeremy would react to it. They’re used to violence, I wanted Jeremy to totally dismiss it as just a way of describing the reader, not fully knowing how bad the relationship was).

“Hey, you made my night more interesting, and even gave me a valid excuse as to why I didn’t finish that Bioshock level.”

“But—”

“Really, it’s fine. It was an emergency, you needed help. Your time here is completely fine and valid. We’re friends, it’s what friends do for one another. You could stay here for a year, and I would be happy just have your company around here,” Jeremy blushed at the end. “But you probably should get going, I do want you to sleep even just a little bit in your own bed. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Jeremy.”

The teen walked upstairs and got his dad. Mr. Heere surprisingly kept his promise. You were escorted to Jeremy’s car while his dad took your keys. Your hood was up once again, to hide anything you could from Jeremy’s dad. Going out to the car was surprisingly easy, they just needed to keep their eyes aware of any figures in the dark. Jeremy even opened the door for you, and Jeremy stepped around to the other side of the car. He didn’t miss his dad’s knowing smile before climbing in, though.

The drive was surprisingly short and almost peaceful. Almost peaceful because Jeremy kept his eye out for your boyfriend or his car, making sure to signal if you should duck your head down under the glove compartment just in case. But it was nice, no traffic, no one was around. It kept the illusion of being untouchable by anyone else, the illusion of privacy alive (I wanted to keep the Before the Storm dream alive here. Completely intimate, completely untouchable). The streetlight glowed lovingly every so often, illuminating the wonderful person that sat in the passenger seat of Jeremy’s car. He could tell that you were falling asleep, your head falling on the window every so often. Yeah, good thing you didn’t drive. Jeremy sighed and looked at the road ahead of him once again.

Jeremy couldn’t get the sadness out of his head, the small cloud of darkness from before looming darker and closer. He got to go home and sleep peacefully. Where he was safe. You on the other hand, had to go to bed and face the cold reality of the night. While the he wanted to help, he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was just like the SQUIP incident and him. You needed to face this head on and probably alone. If not alone, then with mental health professionals who could do a hell of a lot more than he could. They’d helped him with his situation, he only imagined they could do the same for you (I wanted Jeremy to promote healthy growth instead of having the reader unhealthily leaning themselves on him).

When you got to your house, he noticed tears streaming down your face again. He wordlessly walked you to your door and hugged you before letting you walk into your home, safe for the night.

He drove with his dad home, the car being silent the entire way. And while before, the silence would be absolutely driving the two of them insane, this was more of a relaxed or sleepy silence. The car ride seemed to go faster, Mr. Heere finally driving the speed limit instead of 5 under like he had with your car.

It wasn’t until Jeremy’s dad stopped in their driveway before he said something. “I know that I have no idea about this friend, but something tells me that you really care about them and genuinely help them. Did you end up using the gauze?” (Mr. Heere knows how big this crush is)

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, his eyes still looking at his lap. He turned up, neck craning only slightly, to face his dad. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go inside and get some good sleep, yeah? It’s already 3:23.”

The two climbed out of the car and locked it before entering the dark house and each going into their own rooms.

As soon as Jeremy shut his door, tears of relief flooded out of his eyes (I didn’t plan on originally writing this scene. My very first draft actually ends very shortly after the kiss between Jeremy and the reader. But this scene was added in because I wanted to show off that Jeremy meant what he said; he cares about the reader. I wanted to show off that even when he was alone, his feelings didn’t change). He had no idea how he had managed to pull off keeping you safe, but he did it. Fuck, he did it. He got into his sweats, tears still escaping at a constant rate. Jeremy sat on his bed, the only light in his room being the moon, and put his head in his hands.

God you didn’t deserve this. Any of it. And in that moment, Jeremy made a promise to himself. He was going to help you in whatever way he could, and never ever let your boyfriend get away with this (I also didn’t plan on Jeremy crying himself to sleep. But it felt right; Jeremy’s been under a lot of stress in the past 2 hours. I didn’t want to say what the reader did, because everyone is different. Knowing me, I probably would’ve mirrored Jeremy’s actions, and begging him to let me do something in return, hence the next part).

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you smiled at Jeremy, sipping your drip coffee with a light smile, “I know I said that over text when I invited you here, but I felt like I also needed to say it in person.” (Diner dates make my heart melt).

Your sweet smile didn’t move and your eyes remained shining bright as they had last night. As you held your coffee, there were no white knuckles, no worry, just utter calmness and wonder. It was a relaxing sight to Jeremy, almost as if last night hadn’t happened. But it did, didn’t it? Jeremy needed a reality check (I actually wanted to fill everyone in on what happened, because the motions of even writing it was kind of a bore and just plain awkward. Plus, when Chloe meets Rachel, she thinks about how she needs a reality check).

His mind went over every event since last night as he tugged on the sweater that Brooke had picked out for him that morning (I chose Brooke because I felt like she was going to be the most open to helping Jeremy at such short notice, and give him good advice. No offence to the other boys, but Rich wears plaid and camo, enough said there). He dropped you off, vowed to somehow get revenge on your boyfriend, fell asleep on his bed out of exhaustion, woke up to a text from you inviting him to some hole in the wall diner on the opposite side of town to apologize in person, he took a shower, called Brooke to help him figure out what the hell he should wear, she gossiped basically the whole time, only telling Jeremy ‘it doesn’t matter if it’s a date or not, just be yourself, you’re great all on your own!!’ while he got ready, drove across town, and now he was here (Fun fact, Brooke was going to ask Jeremy over and over if you were cheating on your boyfriend, not telling Jeremy he was great the way he was. I thought that her asking about the reader didn’t show enough Brooke Lohst growth, so I decided to change it. There’s even evidence that she liked Jeremy before the whole SQUIP incident). Jeremy checked his phone once again. There were the texts from you, asking him to meet you here. And then of course, you were sitting across from him, smiling and being all adorable as always.

Jeremy realized how deep in thought he was before mirroring your smile. How could he forget how attractive and amazing you were when you were happy and comfortable with yourself (Because it had been so long since he’d seen it. Whenever I was hanging out with my best friend, she always noticed how different it was to hang out with just me vs. me and my ex. I know she noticed, because even my best friend’s boyfriend began to say things to me, which meant it was a normal topic of conversation between them)? His heart fluttered as your ears turned pink. He wished you could look at him like that all the time and in different circumstances.

“It was no problem. I’m glad you were able to stay safe,” he finally responded. Jeremy almost felt hyperaware of himself, feeling like you were watching his every move as if you’d judge him for making even the smallest wrong move. He felt like a deer in the headlights, unsure of how to act or what to do. It had been forever since he’d been on a date—or whatever this was.

But you wouldn’t judge him for making a mistake. There’s no way, even if he dropped his plate of food on the ground and then threw up. You had broken down your walls last night and somehow Jeremy could feel that you two had something special going on. Although, maybe it was just wishful thinking. But one thing was for sure: boundaries between you two were almost nonexistent. Emotionally, at the very least.

That didn’t stop Jeremy’s mind from buzzing with question after question. He looked down at the brown table in the diner. What compelled you to leave your boyfriend’s house last night, other than the physical harm? It was clear that things had happened between you two before that night. You’d been conditioned, almost like a lost puppy, to apologize, constantly double check with people, have the inability to make decisions, and so much more (I actually had to learn how conditioned I was on my own. I took a psychology class, and when we talked about punishment hoo boy was that a lecture full of dissociation and flashbacks. That, and I always felt like I was acting like a lost puppy around my ex. Honestly, I hoped someone would notice, so I decided to incorporate it here). Hell, you barely talked about yourself and how you were doing, even when you were prompted. So why try to escape last night? And why go to his house? Jeremy wasn’t anything special, especially in his eyes. He was just a lanky and below average teenage boy. He could barely get Christine to even talk to him, so why did you choose him to confide in? And how long had your mistreatment been happening to make you desperate enough to go to him? It bad to be, jeez—

“Jeremy?” You asked sweetly, keeping your voice soft and light.

He could feel his head snap up at your call to attention, eyes immediately finding yours. Your face drained of color and your fingers started to fidget more than they normally did. “Sorry, I uhh, you just looked like you wanted to ask something. Sorry, I should’ve like waited for you to speak, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that or make you jump, it was an accident—”

“It’s okay, I was just zoning out for a second, you’re fine,” Jeremy reassured, his eyes becoming soft at your crumbling composure.

You were quiet for a second, almost contemplating your next move, “So, we’re okay?” You asked, your eyes growing wider by the second.

“We’re great.”

You calmed down, your back hitting the other side of the booth. You smiled back at Jeremy, unease creeping into your features. He didn’t mean to make you nervous at all. Jeremy was being truthful; everything was great between you two. Why had you become so nervous? Were you really that worried that he was lying to you?

Maybe your boyfriend lied to you often (ABSOLUTELY HE DID. My ex used to lie to get a rise out of me. Literally since the beginning of the relationship. I’ll tell you more when we get there). Maybe in public, he would say that you were fine but the minute that you got home that’s when hell would break loose. As much as Jeremy wanted to do something, there really wasn’t anything that he could do. He couldn’t just change how you thought and what you believed. So he decided the best thing to do was to maybe just move on. That way, you could focus on something else. “Actually,” he began, “I did want to ask you something.”

You came back into reality, immediately waving your hand as if to wave away his statement. “Of course. I’m sorry, I totally forgot that you really only have the bare essentials of what’s going on. What do you want to ask?”

Jeremy held his own for what felt like the first time in his life. He fidgeted with the straw wrapper that had been discarded mere minutes ago. “I don’t mean to pry, but,” his mind went over all of the questions and he decided to ask the most sugar coated question he could, “why did you choose to go to my house last night? Why not your best friend’s house?”

You sighed and stared down at the table before answering his question. “You were the perfect candidate.”

“What do you mean?”

“Normally, I would go to my best friend’s house. However, they are, or I suppose were, friends with my boyfriend. They’ve been friends for god, 12 years? He knows where they live, and therefore, could find me there. It would be dangerous for both me and my best friend.”

Your best friend knew your boyfriend for 12 years?? That’s how long Jeremy knew Michael (When I listened to the soundtrack, this fact stood out to me, for this reason and this reason only. It kind of irked me, and I kind of stood with Michael for a bit. It didn’t take too much research to see Jeremy’s point of view, and to realize that their 12 years of friendship were very different than my best friend and my ex’s). He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if Michael suddenly started hurting someone else he liked? What if Michael started hitting Christine? Could he even forgive him for that? Jeremy knew for a fact that Michael would never take a SQUIP, so that excuse was out of the picture. He was glad that you corrected yourself; your best friend should not be friends with your abuser (Real talk: this is true).

Jeremy silently urged you to keep going, eyes watching you as carefully as they could. He hoped you’d keep going because while your answer was satisfying, it didn’t fully answer his question. You took a sip of your coffee before continuing.

“I was thinking about a hotel, but I wasn’t sure if they would allow me to check in as unlisted and I didn’t have any cash on me. My debit card could be traced. And my mom would know that something was up.” (I actually remember which hotel I was going to check into. Every time I pass it, a part of me jumps up a little too much. Funny, no one can figure out why I get so nervous in that area)

Surprisingly, Jeremy had never thought about checking into a hotel. You must’ve been planning an escape for a long time if you’d thought about multiple places to go. And if that were the case, what happened last night must’ve been happening for—Jeremy didn’t even know how long.

“A few weeks ago, when we ran into each other at Wawa’s, I remembered that we were in a group project together, meaning I had your address (Originally, the Wawa’s interaction was going to be only just that: an interaction. It was a way for me to show off what Jeremy really wanted, nothing more. Trust me though, I like this a lot better. Now it works as both). I mapped it from my boyfriend’s house, and you were less than 10 minutes away, which is perfect for an escape route. He also doesn’t know where you live, which makes your house a better option than my best friend’s. I wouldn’t have to use my debit card, and because of that, I couldn’t be traced. I could also easily make it home from your house and my mom wouldn’t have to know anything. Plus, I knew you were a good person and an even sweeter friend. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to help me,” you finished while blushing during the last sentence.

Jeremy’s ears turned pink at your blush but immediately dismissed it. The blush meant nothing; it couldn’t mean anything. Although, you did kiss him last night. You did initiate it. Maybe you did like him back. But the more Jeremy thought about it, the more he believed it wasn’t true. Last night was just a moment of rebellion, like he’d seen at Rich’s bonfire. Nothing more.

You must’ve caught Jeremy being lost in thought because you spoke up just seconds after he’d finished his train of thought. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You shifted in your seat for a second before looking back up at the lanky boy. “Anything else you want to know?”

YES. Jeremy wanted to know so much more, so many questions buzzed in his mind, but maybe now was not the time to have them answered. He knew that this whole relationship took a toll on you. Jeremy recalled when he’d first noticed that something was really wrong. But had this relationship really been that bad since January? It couldn’t be that, right? He decided that it would be better to ask than to assume the worst. “You literally don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but,” Jeremy started, “How long has this whole mistreatment thing been going on?”

You sighed, eyes darting for the table. It was almost like you were ashamed of yourself, of your answer. “I don’t even know,” you muttered. You moved the hair out of your face before sighing and looking at Jeremy once again. “For most of the relationship, I guess.

“We started out great, everything was just…wonderful. And then, sometime I think during Winter Break, god is that right?, it was like something came alive or like something died. He was controlling, rude, made sure I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without him or his permission. Sometimes I needed both. I thought things would get better with time. I was waiting for them to get better. I thought by prom everything would be great. Instead, he started saying things to me that I can’t even bare to repeat. And then last night he—” You took a shaky breath, attempting not to cry in the diner. “So, to answer your question, I guess since Winter Break.” (My boyfriend actually had dependency issues. He put too much pressure on me, choosing me to always talk him down, always be with him, and the moment I wanted to step away, even for 5 minutes, he’d get upset. I felt like I was suffocating).

Winter Break? That had been, jeez, months. That was almost your entire relationship as far as he was concerned. Jeremy knew something was up with you when Winter Break ended. He could tell based off of the ways your eyes sunk into your head, the way you always tried to sleep, how nice you were to other people, but most importantly, how miserable you were. He remembered how stupid he was, seeing how your boyfriend kept you from your friends and why your social media pages looked those of a perfect couple. It was a front. It was a way that no one would notice what you were going through and a way for your boyfriend to get away with his abuse.

And at prom, when you were so upset and nervous. You looked so stunning and you’d spoken to Jeremy, but immediately after your boyfriend whisked you away. He did control you, he did isolate you, and Jeremy completely missed the signs.

You were being controlled, and he knew exactly what that felt like. Asking for permission, getting nervous about doing things, not ever being sure of yourself or confident; it wasn’t anything he’d wish on anyone. And now it happened to someone who didn’t deserve it.

At least with Jeremy, he’d at least kind of chosen to be controlled. He made the choice to keep going with the SQUIP all because he wanted to be cool. But you didn’t choose this, no, you chose a happy life with someone who you thought would be kind and sweet.

He could feel his blood start to boil and his hands start to grip the sides of his sweater. Your boyfriend hurt you in more ways than Jeremy could imagine. He thought it was bad last night, but boy was he wrong. This wasn’t one therapy session worth of shit, it was years. This would follow you around every time you wanted to date anybody, or hell even on an off day (Me? Self projecting? Foreshadowing? Yes). The things your boyfriend said to you would come back and haunt you, Jeremy was sure of it. Hell, the SQUIP was only around in his head for only a few weeks and he still had mental health problems from it.

Jeremy had to do whatever he could until you were happy again. If that meant going after your boyfriend and giving him hell, he’d do it. If that meant going to court with you, he’d do it. If that meant talking every night and helping you fall asleep soundly, he’d do it.

As for the prick that you were still with, you had to break up with him. You could do it in public, eyes on you just in case things went south. He could get Rich, Jake, and Michael to help out. Rich could be the eyes and the muscle, Jake could be back up, Michael could be your get away, and Jeremy could keep eyes on you, notifying the others on what to do via walkie or phone. Yeah, that sounded good as long as he could—

“Can I ask you something?”

Jeremy froze in his tracks. Shit, he’d gotten so caught up in his revenge party that he’d almost forgotten that you were still here and still hurting (Mean Girls and The Last Five Years anyone?). Your eyes were wide and stared at him with a desperation that could only be described as similar to begging for your life back. He gulped, and then nodded while softly replying “Yeah, of course.”

“You,” taking a breath you started again, “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“What?” That was not the question he was anticipating. He was thinking you were going to ask about last night’s kiss. It was weird, like he couldn’t get that singular event out of his head. Just the way you were so…indescribable. Jeremy could only compare it to—

“I probably am,” your fingers started messing with your mug, (This was more about an internal struggle I had, but I felt like the reader could be completely open with Jeremy, meaning speaking out loud about internal conflict) “I mean, you probably assume my boyfriend is great and I’m lying. Like this is a front to just get sympathy, right? And maybe I am crazy. Maybe people just say stuff like that and I’m too sensitive or something, I don’t know.”

“Wait a second before continuing, okay?” Jeremy put his hand out to physically stop you. He didn’t want to hear you explain why you thought you were insane. Because if anything, you weren’t crazy, your boyfriend was. “You’re not crazy. I totally believe you, especially after last night. Your struggle is valid, I promise.”

You nodded your head before looking out the window for a second. “Can you just like, look at the texts? I just want to be positive, you know?”

“Sure, of course.”

Pulling out your phone, you quickly unlocked it and began scrolling. You eventually handed it to the boy who sat across from you. Jeremy took it gingerly, making sure not to close it or scroll away from the thing you wanted him to see. His eyes focused on the smaller text in front of him and began to read.

Him: My whole day is ruined because I can’t see you

Him: I can’t imagine life without you in it

Jeremy had seen that phrase before, it was in a game that he had watched other people play. The game was Emily is Away Too, and the character who said it was Emily’s shitty boyfriend Jeff (My ex in his early stages of abuse are exactly the same. Look up a playthrough, and you’ll exactly the things I was sent). Yeah, there’s no way that you’re crazy. He looked at the time stamp. You two had been dating for barely 3 months, give or take a week or two. That was not something you usually told your not-yet-long-term significant other. No, that was something you said to scare them off.

Him: I wish someone was here for me. Him: Or anyone else, on top of you. Him: Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate you, but you’re barely here. I don’t have other people here.

Jeremy was confused. You two didn’t spend time apart, ever. He looked back at the time of this text. February 14, 12:13 PM. That was right smack in the middle of you two spending time together and only together.

The last five texts he read were repeated over and over again, until even he got tired of reading it. Jeremy’s eyes stopped at several texts you messaged your boyfriend. All the long ones were explanations of what you were doing and why your boyfriend should get help with a professional instead of you. A few words caught his eye: “Eating disorder”, “not sleeping”, “anxiety”, and “depression”. Damn it, he knew, Jeremy knew you weren’t just tired like Brooke had once said. Something told him that you weren’t eating. You always wore sweaters and long sleeves. You always had caffeine on hand. Your boyfriend missed the signs (or just chose to straight up ignore them and make his problems the bigger ones), but the lovesick boy who admired you from afar noticed them in 2 weeks (I secretly wished my ex would notice that something was wrong, but he never did. He was a terrible hint picker-upper, even with his own significant other. And we didn’t even spend time apart, so I read that as my basic needs don’t matter; therefore, I believed I didn’t matter. By putting this in, Jeremy is showing that he cares. He picks up hints, he knows what the reader likes, and can even pick up that he fucked up relatively fast).

He scrolled down a little further:

Him: Okay I’m gonna be real with you. I have exactly 0 ideas for prom and I haven’t slept in like 2 days and I might have a meltdown.

How was this even a text? April 17 6:14 AM. Shouldn’t you know how to ask your significant other to prom by that time? Prom was May 6th. This text was long overdue. And wasn’t your boyfriend supposed to know what you liked enough to know how to ask you to prom? This wasn’t right. Your boyfriend wasn’t even doing the bare minimum while you put in every ounce that you had (I love Next to Normal, and yet I didn’t get any part of a Next to Normal prom proposal or prom. Instead, I had a shitty time *see above).

He continued scrolling down, only getting more and more sick from how many times your boyfriend asked you ideas on how to ask you to prom. He’d lost count, honestly. You’d give your boyfriend ideas, and he’d just dismiss them, as if they were nothing. As if you were nothing.

It wasn’t long before Jeremy found blatant sexual harassment. You had requested (very stealthily, but it was there) that he stop, but he just continued. Did that count as assault? Did Jeremy just witness your boyfriend sexually assault you? If it wasn’t assault, it was definitely harassment (You want to know what that sexual harassment was? I wasn’t really interested in my ex sexually, and I told him that, as in I came out to him, in the middle of his two day rant about how small his dick was. And even though I said multiple times that size doesn’t matter (because to me it honestly didn’t, I wasn’t looking to have sex), he didn’t end the conversation or stop it. I even tried changing the subject. I was honestly expecting a dick pic at some point during/after that conversation). That was the last straw. Your boyfriend was going down in flames with everybody watching.

Him: But I’m a piece of shit. (Jeremy nodded at that) Idk if I’m above sleeping with Chloe. I try my hardest not to, but with you not here, I don’t know what will happen. Him: I think I’m above it but who knows.

May 1, 12:14 AM. Alright, so your boyfriend is gaslighting you into believing that if you leave to do anything without him, he might cheat on you with Chloe (Everything with real-life Chloe was made up. Every little bit. He constantly told me he wasn’t sure if he was above sleeping with her. He told me. His significant other. What a shitty ass thing to say, and what a rude thing to lie about. Making your significant other paranoid that you’re gonna cheat to the point where they have to feel clingy to keep you loyal? Stupid. Ridiculous.)? And was this Chloe Valentine, right? Jeremy knew that Chloe just kinda flirts with people but is committed in a relationship right now. So, basically your boyfriend lied to you to get a rise out of you. What kind of fuckery is that? Not okay fuckery, at the very least. And now Jeremy was already planning a witch hunt. The witch? Your boyfriend. Before he planned any further than he had before (this time Jeremy would have the eyes and ears on you, not Rich) he scrolled down.

Him: So I stopped by the cafeteria…

You: Sorry! I overslept.

Him: Whatever Him: I was late anyways because I didn’t sleep last night.

May 1, 7:30 AM. Jeremy could remember this day (I can remember this day. I had gotten barely 4 hours of sleep, and I slept through my alarm for school. And yet I was still the bad guy, even though I had stayed up because he ‘needed me to’. I told him I was going to bed at 11, and he just didn’t care. And then I couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t eating very much and very stressed; it was a fiasco and a half). It was near the end of the school year, and you didn’t show up to school that morning. He’d worried that something had happened to you, something bad. His friends said you were probably just sick or maybe you’d overslept a little bit. ‘It happens to everyone at some point,’ they’d said. But in this circumstance, Jeremy was right on the money.

Him: I hope that was a nice conversation you had with Rich.

You: We were just talking, it was innocent.

Him: Yeah, so much so that you kicked me to the curb.

You: I’m sorry, was I just supposed to stand there and listen to you talk to your friends? I started talked to Rich because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do. You didn’t really seem to want to talk to me. (Jeremy silently cheered for you standing up for yourself)

Him: Whatever. I’m sorry that Dustin asked me to go in there to help with some stuff. I guess I should have left when it was just me, you, and Rich, so that you guys could have had your 1 on 1 chat or whatever. Him: Anybody would have assumed you like Rich more than me.

You: You don’t honestly believe that, do you?

Him: It sure seemed like it

So that’s how Rich knew something was wrong (I didn’t plan on Rich knowing. But the more I played with it, the more I liked the idea, and the more his actions just fell into place and made sense. This event actually did happen with one of our mutual friends, and believe it or not, my ex slammed the door in my face after talking to our mutual friend. Real-life Rich immediately played it cool, but oh my god was I close to tears. We were literally talking about Calculus. Hot, I know. But I imagine Rich would do something similar. And it just fit because this Real-life Rich also hosted the bonfire I was outed at)! He knew all the way back since May 3rd? Why didn’t he say something sooner? And why didn’t he convince Jeremy to try and talk to you before the summer? They could’ve done something months before this got out of hand. However, something told Jeremy that this was your last full (if that) conversation with Rich, or really any of your friends for that matter. The consequences were too great for you to have friends outside of your boyfriend, which shouldn’t be the case. When he and Christine were dating, Christine would go to her friends for certain things that Jeremy couldn’t give her. You didn’t have that luxury, and Jeremy wanted to give it to you so badly.

Jeremy continued scrolling so you wouldn’t have to wait for him to read everything. He knew that there was too much content for him to get through in one go. But something caught his eye, and something told him that out of everything Jeremy read, this was the one text you needed him to read.

Him: I’m just telling you what it comes off as. And the times where I have to ask you if you’re not going to be able to make it over rather than knowing beforehand, coupled with the lack of time we get to be together, honestly, it makes it hard for me to stay in love with you.

In that moment, Jeremy’s breath hitched. He did not say that to you. Your boyfriend was the definition of the SQUIP: controlling, isolating, and even severely emotionally and verbally abusing his victim (This text keeps me up at night. And that’s when I read fluff fanfiction. Thank you to all of the wonderful fanfic writers out there. Even if it’s been months since you posted writing, you really help me out when I’m close to tears thinking about this text. That’s why I have recs). You were now officially part of the SQUIP Squad, whether or not you counted Jeremy as a friend or whatever. This situation definitely counted as a SQUIP.

And another thing: if anything, you were easy to love. It was so simple to get lost in your eyes, the loop of your handwriting, the sweet tone of your voice, the way that your giggles and chuckles lit up rooms, how gentle you became late at night, the elegant way you walked, where even in times of suffering, you looked like you were walking on air. You were uniquely you, and Jeremy could not think of anyone more perfect and magical to love—platonically at the very least.

“You got there, didn’t you?”

That tore Jeremy from his thoughts, eyes shooting back at you. “W-What?”

“May 8th. 7:26 PM. The Monday after prom, aka Senior Skip Day.” (I have vivid memory of this day, and could easily write an entire novel on how it went down)

All he could muster was a nod. This one text had to be significant to you. You had memorized the date and time of it. Something happened at this time.

“That was the beginning of most of the verbal abuse,” you muttered. “It really only gets worse or stays the same from there out.” (For the longest time, I pegged prom as his event that caused the abuse. It was actually much earlier than that, but after prom everything took a nose dive, and he didn’t cycle back up like most abusers do. This was the prolonged bad period. This was also the time when my escape plans were to be taken as seriously as they could be. I had back up on top of back up, just in case. If I was at my best friend’s house, I’d map in my mind the fastest way out of there while making a confusing amount of turns. And my ex didn’t even drive while we were dating).

Jeremy clutched your phone, feeling himself loosing control. He wanted to throw your phone and track your boyfriend down. He even went through the motions in his head to call Rich and get his team assembled. He’d call Rich, then call the police to keep you safe while they went and took care of your boyfriend. He could even just call Christine, or hell, Brooke, to keep you safe while they dealt with the piece of shit that called himself your boyfriend. Just as Jeremy was feeling for his wallet and preparing to go and inflict pain on your boyfriend, your phone vibrated.

Him: I want to keep going. Him: I don’t want to lose you. Him: I love you so so much. Him: I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.

The lanky boy calmed down almost instantly and handed your phone back to you, waiting for you to make your response. He hoped that you wouldn’t accept that apology (Which is an apology I’ve gotten numerous times). It wasn’t real; everything he said wasn’t real. You can’t apologize to someone while insulting yourself. That’s not okay. The person you’re apologizing to should not have to compliment you while you’re expressing how sorry and regretful you are. That’s manipulative as fuck.

But Jeremy missed your response to the four texts because his own phone went off.

Michael: Hey dude! You finally beat that Bioshock level? You called me at a weird time last night.

Fuck, Jeremy forgot he’d called Michael last night in a rush to help you. He quickly typed out a response, making sure to check in on you every few seconds. He was worried that you might need some more help steadying yourself.

Jeremy: Not exactly. I’ll tell you about it later, okay? Jeremy: What time do you get home tonight?

It was a few seconds before Michael responded again. Jeremy glanced up at you for a second, making sure that you were calm, cool, and collected.

Michael: I don’t mean to pry, but like, did you end up like getting laid? Did you just use my text as a euphemism? Because gross dude

Jeremy: What? No. Not even a little. Look, I’ll just… Jeremy: Just come over later, alright?

Michael: Sure. I’ll be there tonight. We smokin?

Jeremy: It’s up to you. It’s your weed, not mine.

Michael: Alright. I’ll see you tonight.

As soon as he looked up, you were already packing up your stuff. “Sorry, my boyfriend texting me is kind of my cue to go. That’s why I wanted to meet so early. I wanted us to get some time alone, you know?” (Let me tell you a little secret: the reader isn’t protecting themselves from her boyfriend. They’re protecting Jeremy)

“Yeah,” Jeremy smiled at you.

“I’ve got the bill covered, it’s my thanks to you. Have a great day, okay Jeremy? I’ll see you around.”

With that, he got his keys out and began to make sure he had his wallet and phone. Usually, a reunion with you was a happy event, but Jeremy wasn’t smiling as he left this time. He just had one question rattling around in his mind, similar to a game of old school Pong (Again with the video game references because I love them and firmly believe Jeremy does too). How can you say that stuff to someone you claim to love?

#AC

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