GAME OVER: a Be More Chill fic

Level 2

The drive to the mall was a quiet one; Jeremy didn't seem to want to talk, and Michael didn't want to be pushy.

Jeremy actually very much wanted to talk, especially to Michael, but he feared that if he opened his mouth he'd burst into tears or something else equally embarrassing. Michael could sense that in the way Jeremy laced and unlaced his fingers on his lap and occasionally sighed as though he was looking for the right words. But he also knew better than to start the conversation himself, so he instead casually suggested that Jeremy pick the music.

Jeremy smiled gratefully and fumbled around in the glovebox. He found a Bob Marley CD within the diverse stack, which featured music from Metallica to Marley to the soundtrack of Mulan. Popping in the Marley CD, he skipped right to track four and cranked up the volume.

"Hell yeah!" Michael cried, breaking into a grin. "This is our song!" He sang along with reckless abandon, in some form of comic relief, as Jeremy smiled weakly and tapped his foot from the passenger seat. He nudged Jeremy with his elbow at the chorus.

"Don't woooorry... about a thing... 'cause every little thing... is gonna be alriiiiiight..." He gave a pointed look to his Player 2.

Jeremy nodded. He was used to Michael saying through music what he couldn't in his own words. He was almost always listening to music, usually through one earbud (while talking to someone) or his noise-cancelling headphones (when his anxiety was acting up). The boys would share earbuds all the time, and sometimes, while listening together, Michael would pause the music just to repeat a particularly profound or relatable line out loud. Jeremy loved it, though he was never very good at returning the favor. He preferred using his own words, no matter how hard he stumbled over them. Michael didn't seem to mind.

Jeremy was pulled out of his thoughts by the mall's appearance in the windshield. The dread that had subsided filled him once more as they pulled into the parking lot.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, they found a spot fairly easily. They parked at the exact moment Three Little Birds ended for the third time, prompting a smile from Michael.

"Love when that happens," he said softly, then shook his head and looked over at Jeremy. "You okay, Jer?"

"I -- not really, but... I'll be fine, I think," he stuttered.

Michael reached over to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry about a thing, Heere. I'll walk you in if you want."

Jeremy agreed and they walked through the parking lot, Michael's arm draped around Jeremy's shoulders as Jeremy struggled to keep it together. He knew he was being ridiculous -- he and Christine had only been together three weeks -- but that didn't stop him from burying his face in the taller boy's hoodie as he fought off tears.

Suddenly, the warm air and fluorescent lights were washing over him, and Michael was pulling away gently.

"I'll meet you at Spencer's?" he suggested.

Jeremy nodded, still afraid to speak, and Michael pulled him into a quick hug before leaving hesitantly.

He took a deep breath and started towards the frozen yogurt place. The Yogurt City sign came into view, hanging over his head like an anvil in a cartoon. Christine sat alone in the back corner at a table for two.

Jeremy remembered their first date: lunch, just the two of them. They went to Christine's favorite little Italian place for pizza. He brought her a rose, and she smiled widely, blushing. When they left, she forgot it on the table.

A few days later, he brought her a chocolate Shakespeare figurine he'd found on the internet. The first time he tried, it had melted in his pocket, but this time he was more careful. She had accepted it graciously with a bear hug and a peck on the cheek. He glimpsed Brooke eating it later at lunch.

Jeremy didn't like the pattern he was seeing.

Christine smiled and waved him over. He sat down across from her, taking her hand shakily. She placed her other hand on top of his, in a seemingly comforting gesture, but he knew (from some psychology documentary Michael told him about) that it was subconsciously an effort to establish dominance in this conversation. Jeremy tried to counter that by speaking first.

"Christine, I... I like you a lot, a-and I'm so sorry if I did anything to -- "

"No, no no no! No, Jeremy, you didn't do anything wrong, you don't have to apologize. This is all me. I'm the one who should be sorry. Just... let me explain?" She looked as if she might cry, too. "Please?" Jeremy took a deep breath and nodded.

"Do you remember what I told you before? About finding myself?" she began. He nodded again, slowly. "Well... that never just disappeared. It's not that I didn't want to date you, I didn't want to date anyone, because I needed to love myself before I loved somebody else."

She paused, and closed her eyes briefly like she was trying to remember something, then continued. "You're amazing, Jeremy. You're going to be an incredible boyfriend to somebody soon, but not to me, not right now. We just want -- need -- different things. I think you need somebody to hold and kiss and bring roses and chocolates to, and I need somebody to push me to my limits and make me a better person."

She looked into his eyes, and Jeremy realized it was the first time she'd done that since he arrived.

"I need to grow. You need to plant roots. I get that, I promise, and maybe someday we'll need the same thing, and we can work something out. But right now -- " Tears suddenly spilled onto her cheeks. Jeremy reached up and wiped them away gently.

"Right now... I'm lost, Jeremy. And you... you're amazing, but... you're not a map." She bowed her head, the way she always did when finishing a monologue. Knowing Christine, she'd rehearsed this more than a few times, anyway.

Jeremy pulled his hand out of hers. "I... don't know what to say."

"Jeremy, please don't be mad. I really wanted this to work, but... there's not much of, like, a connection, like I thought there was, and I like you, a lot, but -- I...I'm sorry." She seemed to have run out of scripted words.

"I wanted it to work too. But there's a difference between wanting it to work and making it work. I actually tried, Christine. I brought you flowers and chocolates and I tried to make you feel the way you make me feel, and you threw that away. You're throwing that away." Jeremy stood up. Christine grabbed his hand.

"Jeremy, don't leave, please, don't be mad, I --"

"You made me happy, Christine. That's all I wanted for you, but I guess I wasn't enough. I guess you preferred me when I was an asshole." He jerked his hand away as hot tears began to fall. Christine was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. He was already out the door.