Just a Memo - Boyf riends
Title: Just a Memo
Word Count: 1822
Pairing: Jeremy Heere x Michael Mell (boyf riends/Meremy)
Warnings: None unless you consider dorks being dorks objectionable
A/N: This originally started out as a headcanon so the writing style is more informal-ish towards the beginning. Also this is my first piece of actual fanfic ever so bear with me here. :’D
Jeremy still sometimes hears the Squip talking in his head. It’s so faint though, that he’s not really sure if it’s just his own thoughts or if it actually is the Squip. Either way he doesn’t tell anyone. Maybe, he thinks, it’ll just go away on its own. No, the voice says, It can’t be gotten rid of that easily. But nevertheless, Jeremy continues to live as though there weren’t possibly the ghost of a half-mad supercomputer embedded in his brain.
One day he notices his left hand moving of its own accord (to do what, he had no idea) and flips the fuck out— but regains control of it immediately after panicking and flailing it around for a second. This type of thing starts happening on occasion; usually just small actions probably meant to inconvenience him. That time he caught himself aiming a crumpled ball of paper at the back of a teacher’s head was one of the more notable ones. Oh, and that time he poured a glass of water on himself probably qualifies as well.
Jeremy realizes that he really can’t deny the Squip’s presence at this point, but it hasn’t tried to do anything super malicious, so he decides to wait things out before taking any drastic action. One day he sees his hand reaching for a pen on its own. Normally he’d jerk it back on reflex and that would be it, but he decides to leave it alone and see what happens. His hand picks up the pen and starts writing on a scrap piece of paper. Definitely not his handwriting, he notes with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Then it stops.
Y O U R F L Y I S U N Z I P P E D
Jeremy hurriedly looks down. Shit.
After remedying the situation, he stops for a moment to direct a mental ‘thank you’ at the Squip. Hell, that’s probably the nicest thing it’s ever done for him. And so it continues. Every so often he’ll notice his nondominant hand moving of its own accord, writing a helpful (or not-so-helpful) suggestion courtesy of the Squip. The notes are brief— no more than a sentence or two. He’ll usually follow them if the advice doesn’t seem too fishy.
One day Jeremy’s at the school library with Michael, both of them studying for an upcoming math test. Well, Michael’s the one doing most of the studying. It’s not for lack of trying on Jeremy’s part, it’s just he keeps finding himself distracted by Michael. It’s not his fault that Michael bites his lip in the cutest way when he’s figuring out a tough problem, or that the sunlight dancing across his face makes him look like some kind of angel, or that his hair looks so incredibly soft and touchable that Jeremy really wants to run his fingers through it. Man, he thinks, some girl’s gonna be so lucky to have him someday.
He shakes his head and turns back to the study guide for what must be the fifth time when he finds his hand moving to write a note from the squip. It’s become a common enough occurrence that he’s not too fazed by it, but he’d really like to make some headway on this problem, so he’ll just check the note once he’s finished. His Squip-controlled hand sets down the pen and taps on the desk impatiently. In a minute, Jeremy thinks. But the Squip isn’t having it apparently, because it slides the study guide off the table. He curses under his breath and reaches to pick it up when the Squip suddenly forces him to wipe something else off the table. It’s the note.
A S K H I M O U T A L R E A D Y.
What?! Jeremy has to stifle a snort. He’s obviously not gay, as evidenced by his massive crush on Christine. The Squip must be more broken than he thought.
His hand snatches a pen off the table and scribbles on the back of the note. Jeremy thinks he can almost hear an exasperated sigh in the back of his mind.
Y O U R O B L I V I O U S N E S S I S K I L L I N G ME.
Jeremy’s face reddens a bit as he crumples the note and resumes studying. But he still can’t concentrate, thanks to the Squip’s comment. So what if he thinks Michael’s attractive? Doesn’t mean he’s gay. It’s not like he wants to make out with Michael, or hold hands with him, or cuddle with him, or…
Well it doesn’t matter either way. Michael’s probably straight as a board, and even if he weren’t, he could do so much better than Jeremy. Not that he’s jealous or anything. Just stating the facts. Jeremy’s a just another hopeless nerd, but Michael’s so cool in his own way and he doesn’t even know it. Guys like him are cool in college. Guys like Jeremy just fade into the background. But regardless, he has a math test to study for.
Less than ten minutes later he finds his hand moving to write another note. He considers jerking it away but can’t bring himself to do it.
“Dude! You never told me you were ambidextrous!” Michael practically jumps out of his chair in excitement. He leans across the table to get a better look at Jeremy’s squip-controlled hand, which suddenly stops writing and moves to cover the note.
“What— oh,” Jeremy freezes up. Sure enough, he’d been working a math problem with his right hand while the Squip wrote a note with his left, “Uh, yeah… I guess it just never came up? It’s really not a big deal.” A light blush dusts his cheeks as Michael picks up his hand and stares at it in amazement. Jeremy figures it’s probably best to just let Michael believe this whole ambidextrous thing instead of telling him the Squip is back and has taken to spontaneously writing notes of advice with his nondominant hand.
“Not a big deal?!” Michael cries, “Are you serious? Only two percent of humanity is ambidextrous, you happen to be one of them, and you’re telling me that it’s not a big deal? It’s freaking AWESOME!”
“If you’re about to say we should celebrate this by getting stoned in your basement, I’m gonna have to pass.” Jeremy deadpans as he gently removes his hand from Michael’s. Have his hands always been this soft?
“GASP!” Swooning dramatically, Michael clutches his chest and falls back into the chair “I AM HURT.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.” Jeremy says with a laugh. Even if the Squip were right about him liking Michael, he decides it wouldn’t be worth risking their friendship. The pain of losing moments like these greatly outweighs the possible benefits of confessing— BUT there’s nothing to confess so it doesn’t matter anyway! He glances toward Michael, who has gone back to his study guide and is doing that cute lip biting thing again…
… Okay so maybe there’s a little that could possibly be confessed.
Michael gestures towards the note currently covered by Jeremy’s Squip-writing hand. “So what were you writing anyway? With that hand, I mean.”
Jeremy freezes. Just when he thought he was in the clear too.
“How do you even take two sets of notes at once?” Michael muses, “That’d have to involve some serious parallel processing capacity on your part.”
Shit-shit-shit-shit-SHIT. Jeremy lifts his hand slightly so he can see the note. Maybe it’s nothing he’d have to worry about Michael seeing? Yeah, he can probably just write it off as a note to himself for later on. It’s probably nothi—
I R E A L L Y L I K E Y O U M I C H A E L.
“Uh— it’s nothing,” Jeremy says a little too quickly. He’s sweating bullets.
“Oh?” Michael raises an eyebrow, “Well if it’s nothing, then I’m sure you won’t mind if I just—” he moves to snatch the note but Jeremy slaps his hand back over it.
“I-It’s just a memo,” he stutters unconvincingly as his face turns bright red. Is the Squip seriously trying to set them up?
“Just a memo?” Michael grins wickedly and slaps his hand over Jeremy’s own to wrestle for the note, “Gee, you’re awfully cagey about it for being something that’s ‘just a memo’.”
“AUGH— Come on man!” Try as he might, it’s a losing battle. Jeremy’s left hand seems to be actively betraying him as he struggles to keep the note away from Michael. Goddamn Squip is probably laughing it up right now. They grapple a few more seconds before Michael emerges victorious with the note. Jeremy’s face falls and he can feel a pit forming in his stomach. There’s only seconds until their friendship is ruined.
“AHA!” Michael raises it high in the air like a victory trophy. “Time to see what dark secrets—” his triumph turns to shock, and his lips part in an ‘o’ shape as he stares at the note. “…Oh…”
“I-It’s not what you think!” Jeremy laughs nervously, knowing full well there’s no way out of this. He’s awaiting Michael’s response like a prisoner waiting for execution.
“You sure about that?” Michael begins, blushing hard, “Because, I mean, this seems pretty…” he searches carefully for his next words, “…straight-forward.”
Jeremy’s sure there’s nothing he could do to make this any worse. But naturally he finds a way. “…Pun intended?” He buries his face in his hands as he realizes what he just said.
Michael just stares at him for a moment. His expression is unreadable. Then he starts to laugh softly, in that way Jeremy always thought was so cute but now couldn’t be more worrying to hear. “Oh my god… Jeremy.” He sighs as though he’s been holding his breath for a long time, “You big dork.” He says as his face breaks into a smile.
Jeremy looks up. His heart is racing a million miles an hour it’s pounding so loudly he’s sure Michael can hear it. “Wait, you’re not…” he trails off. Mad? Straight? Interested? He’s not sure what he’d prefer at this point. It feels like he’s floating, ready to drop into freefall or soar into the sky at any moment.
Michael grins, “I really like you too.”
His heart soars.
“I have for a while now.” Michael admits sheepishly, “I just thought you didn’t, uh, swing that way.”
Jeremy melts right then and there. He’s pretty sure he would’ve passed out if he hadn’t been sitting down. God, how didn’t he see it before? He can hear a faint “I told you so.” in the back of his mind but he doesn’t care. Michael likes him too and that’s all that matters. Jeremy gathers his courage and straightens up, a look of intense determination on his face, “D-Do you wanna maybe finish studying back at my place?”
Michael takes his hand. “I’d like that.”