Squipped | Be More Chill

Jeremy's Sleep Mask

Michael

"Oh, my God. Don't read that."

I've just caught Jeremy holding open the notebook in which I wrote my little vent poem when Rich broke up with me in May. 

"Why are you writing angsty poetry?" he questions. 

"I'm not writing it right now. It was from, like, seven months ago." I grab the notebook, though it may seem rude, one of my most present fears was being outed against my will. Especially to Jeremy, for some strange reason that I fear I know. 

"Seven... like around graduation?" It's late December, so of course he made the connection immediately. "Wasn't that when we were sad about me and Christine?" 

I sigh. "Jer—"

"You wrote a poem for us? That's so sad and sweet. Can I read it?" Jeremy swipes at the notebook. 

I pull it away. "No... no, this wasn't about you two. It was... it was about me and Rich." 

"What about you and Rich?" He doesn't sound nosy anymore, just concerned. A little sad for me, even though he doesn't know what I went through. That's compassionate. Cute. 

So I tell him the story, from the beginning. Junior prom, nothing ever happening again—until August. The start of a beautiful, hidden, messy relationship. The heartbreak at the end. Some of the parts in the middle I leave out, but those parts can be private just for me. 

He's just staring when it's over. I fumble for a pencil, still holding my notebook, thinking I can maybe write an extra verse where I rhyme Jeremy with stare at me. 

"Oh, man," my best friend finally mutters after a quick process, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea..." 

"It's my fault you didn't," I say quickly. "I was going to tell you that one time I entered, but you told me about Christine first and I didn't want to make you double sad." 

He gets up to give me a hug, amid which I laugh, "I'm fine, Jer, it was ages ago!" 

"Not for me, it wasn't," Jeremy replies, still hugging. "I never knew you were ever in a relationship at all," he adds. 

I sigh. This is so different from the Jeremy I was in a screaming match with last night because, as usual, he wouldn't stop throwing "I love you" boomerangs at Christine. 

"Wait, so..." Jeremy continues talking, pulling away from his long hug, "if you don't mind me asking, are you gay?" 

That was blunt. "Yeah..." 

"Doesn't change a thing," he assures me. 

"Oh, nice. Chill." 

Jeremy

Maybe... maybe it changes something. 

But that's ridiculous. Michael and I are bros. 

Anyway, after getting up early Saturday morning to prepare for the flight, I notice that he's not taking his notebook. Damn, I thought he'd want to, and I'm his best friend. Well, I did think that before I knew what it was used for and that it was tied to... 

Oh, no. Rich. 

I decide to wake Michael up and not say a word to him until we're out of the dorms and in the car. 

Are we taking a cab, you ask? No. 

Who's driving us, you ask? 

"Hey, thanks again for doing this," I thank our friend as he's helping me load the trunk with my bags. "You're the only person here we know, so of course..." 

"Ah, no problem," Rich says assuringly. I slide into the passenger seat, since Michael and his carry-on already took the back. 

"Wait, you didn't tell me Rich was driving us," Michael pipes up from the backseat. I notice that he's done up the seatbelt for his carry-on. 

"Who else would be?" asks Rich, looking at him in the rear-view mirror. "Like Jeremy said—well, you didn't hear—I'm your only friend at this place." 

I always feel so honoured when someone quotes me. I'm not sure why. "I hope that's okay." 

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" The driver glances from me to Michael. 

"Surprise," Mike declares sarcastically. 

Rich doesn't bother lowering his voice. "Does he know about us?" 

"Yep. He found the angsty poem I wrote when—I mean, how long is it gonna take to get to the airport?" 

"About half an hour." 

"That's fair," I chime in, pulling a book from my own carry-on, which, contrary to Michael's, is at my feet on the dirty floor instead of tucked lovingly into a seat like it's a human. 

-

The plane ride is short and uneventful. Michael and I have seats together, but his carry-on is strapped into the middle. He has the window (lucky). I have the aisle. 

"Hey, so... I'm sorry I didn't tell you Rich was driving us," I mention when I know he's not watching a downloaded Netflix episode. 

"Jeremy, things between me and Rich aren't as awkward as you think they are. I'm over him." He turns to look me in the eye. "Way, way over him." 

I smile. "That's good to hear." 

He's about to place on his headphones when I interrupt. "But man, it's pretty cool that two of my friends were dating, though I didn't know a thing about it. I feel like I'm on Friends. Except, you know, I didn't catch you having sex in your apartment." 

He ignores the 90s reference (how rude). "Well, I know how that feels! You and Christine are both my friends, and you're dating." 

"Yeah, but... it doesn't count. She became your friend after I started dating her." 

"True." He puts the headphones on, and the rest of the flight is the short, uneventful part. I eventually get my sleep mask and put it on Michael's carry-on like the loving parent I am.