GAME OVER: a Be More Chill fic

Level 17

No... No... No... Nope...

"For God's sake, Jeremy, just pick a shirt!" the Squip snapped. "You're going to be wearing a coat over it anyway!" Jeremy had been sifting through his closet for the past hour, rejecting every outfit he came across for one reason or another. He dismissed the Squip's opinions on the matter.

"Yeah, but what if I get too warm and take off the coat? I have to look cute." Nothing was good enough, because he knew Michael would look perfect no matter what he wore.

"First of all, you wouldn't be too warm even if Michael set you on fire. You shake like a Chihuahua any time the temperature dips below eighty," the Squip huffed. "I know because I have to deal with it. Second of all, hasn't it occurred to you that Michael thinks the same thing about you? That you'll look perfect no matter what you wear?"

Jeremy waved a hand vaguely. "Still."

"Wear the blue one, then," the Squip sighed. "It'll bring out your eyes."

"Like, half of them are blue!" he whined.

"I meant the sweater with the cloud pattern," said the Squip. "Michael will positively melt when he sees you wearing it, after the big reveal."

Jeremy gasped. "I forgot I had that." He snatched it from the back of the closet and held it up in front of him, wagging his eyebrows. "Soooo?"

"Yes, that's the one." The Squip was clearly annoyed with being a fashion adviser, but Jeremy knew he made the right call.

He showered, dressed, combed his hair, put on a little cologne, and waited impatiently for Michael to pick him up, humming to himself the whole time. Jeremy wanted to look his absolute best for their first date, even more than he had with Christine.

He was clean and pretty and ready to go, but where was Michael? Shouldn't he be here? What time is it?

The Squip groaned at him. "Jeremy, relax. It's nine-thirty."

"Oh, shit," muttered Jeremy. The love-struck boy was so eager to go, he was ready three and a half hours too soon.

Well, better early than late, he supposed.

Jeremy watched a little TV with his dad, then spent the remaining time catching up on homework like a responsible student would, copying answers from the Squip like a responsible student wouldn't. Finally, one o'clock crept into view.

Michael was ten minutes early picking him up, of course, since he was equally as excited as Jeremy. He rang the bell like a gentleman.

Jeremy cried "I'll get it!"and ran to the foyer, nearly bowling over his father. He put on his winter coat before answering the door at the Squip's instruction. 

There stood Michael, smiling suavely. He had on his coat, too, and somehow made the puffy thing look good. The black coat contrasted sharply with the fresh snow that had fallen the night before, and with the handful of wildflowers Michael was holding out -- red Jersey lilies.

"Michael," breathed Jeremy, "they're beautiful!"

"Yeah, well, no homo but I knew they were your favorite color, so..." He laughed with a touch of dry humor at the parallel he'd created from when Jeremy tried to give him flowers.

Jeremy giggled. "You can't say no homo anymore, you're gay." Michael just shrugged sheepishly.

After setting up the flowers in a vase in the kitchen, Michael led Jeremy out to the driveway. The heating was broken in Michael's old car, so they had to keep their coats on the whole time.

"I told you there'd be a big reveal," the Squip chimed in from the backseat, then added, "I'll be elsewhere; if you need me, just call. I have a feeling you won't want me sticking around for long."

Jeremy glanced over at Michael, who was singing quietly along to some eighties pop song as he drove. He wouldn't notice the imaginary conversation. No shit. I'm still debating chugging that Mountain Dew the second I get home.

"You have every right to be skeptical, but trust me when I say that you will not regret this decision." And then he was gone.

The drive to the park was quiet besides the soft music; they were both pretty nervous. Jeremy tried to relax as they went along, driving through Starbucks for hot cocoa and arriving at the park soon after. Michael parked and the boys got out of the car. Their boots crunched through the snow as they walked side by side up to the gate and entered the park.

Jeremy stopped for a moment. "Wow," he muttered, "It's... a lot different from when we were kids."

Michael agreed. The playground had been completely replaced by a newer one, and the mulch under it was swapped for hard rubber. The dirt path they'd walked along and ridden bikes on was now a sidewalk. New trees had been planted, which was nice, but they were in an almost grid-like pattern and looked too artificial.

Nevertheless, the boys persisted. They joined hands and started walking the path, sipping their cocoa and making minimal small talk.

"I love the snow," Jeremy commented.

"Me too."

"It's so pretty."

"Yeah."

Talking was... difficult. There's not much to describe about the rest of the date, as they were nearly silent for most of it, walking together and struggling to keep a conversation going as their hands began to sweat from the hand-holding. It turned into a game of chicken; who would get irritated and let go first?

This went on for nearly an hour before Jeremy finally broke, covering up the action by shifting his hot cocoa into one hand and putting the other in his pocket. Problem solved. He smiled over at Michael. "This is fun."

Michael smiled back. "It is."

Neither of them had ever been so uncomfortable.

I can do this, thought Jeremy. I can get through one date with him. I mean, it's Michael, how bad could it be?

"Oh, look at that flower. It's really pretty," Jeremy tried, sounding a little too enthusiastic.

"Wow, it is pretty," grinned Michael, "but nothing compared to you, sweetie."

"Aw, stop it, Michael." Jeremy blushed at the sentiment but cringed at the "sweetie". What was wrong with them? Why couldn't they just have a normal date that wasn't painfully awkward?

Jeremy had no idea, but Michael was thinking exactly the same thing. All of the romance seemed too forced to them -- scripted, even. It was as if somebody was writing fanfiction and not bothering to keep them in character. Both of the boys wished they were somewhere else, anywhere else, and neither of them would admit it. It was another game of chicken.

Michael lost. He cleared his throat, interrupting Jeremy's thoughts. "So, uh, I'm getting really cold," he lied. "Do you wanna go back to my house?"

Jeremy had never said yes so quickly in his life.