『 boyf riends oneshots 』

〈〈 school newspaper 〉〉

((tw: self-harm))

"Hey Jeremy, have you seen this?"

I walked over to Christine. "Seen what?"

"Some girl sent an anonymous letter to the help column asking about help confessing her love to someone."

"Let me see."

'Dear Newspaper Guys,

I have a crush on this guy. I've known him for about twelve years now and he's my best friend in the whole world. Actually one of my only close friends. I like him a lot, and I've liked him since eighth grade but he never seems interested in me. How do I get him to finally see how cool I think he is? It seems like he keeps dropping hints about it, calling me his "favorite person" and stuff like that, but how do I know for sure if he likes me back?'

I dropped the paper. It wasn't a girl who sent that in. It was Michael. We jokingly called them the "newspaper guys" because we never saw them, and he said they had to be a secret agency of news dudes who only did that.

"Hey, you good?"

"Christine. Where's Michael?"

"Haven't seen him," she said. "Why, what's up?"

"He's in the fourth floor bathrooms."

SQUIP?

"Go. Go. Don't question it, just go."

Last time I didn't question you, you tried to take over the school.

"Michael's crying in there."

I'm sprinting up the stairs, the newspaper flying out of my hand. He's crying in there, and it's my fault and I have to get there fast.

I slam open the door, seeing the bathroom... empty? Then I hear a muffled sob coming from the last stall.

"Michael?"

"You can't come in."

"I'm not trying to, I-"

"Just leave already, Jeremy!"

The sharp edge in his voice hurt me as I strode towards the stall. I could tell how distraught he was, he never let himself cry in public. Barely even in private either.

"Listen, Michael, I read the letter you sent in-"

The crying stopped for a moment, then started up again, louder than before. I knew I could probably slide under the door, but I wanted to respect his privacy.

"I ruined it. I ruined everything."

"No, you didn't ruin everything. It's fine. It's okay."

"No, look, I get it. I fucked up our friendship with my shitty crush. I just wish I had never even sent that letter in! I wish I'd just kept on repressing it like I have for the past six years!"

"Six years." It was less of a question, more of a statement. Six years he'd liked me and hid it. It had to have been for my sake. I just wanted to hug him and make sure he'd be okay.

"Jer?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." I paused. "Can you come out now? I mean- well, you- you kinda did that already but-"

The stall door slammed open. Michael was staring at the ground, his hood up and his glasses foggy. I put my hands on his shoulders, but he still didn't look up.