Be More Chill Oneshots

Please don't cry...?- Michael/Jeremy (Part 1)

Now I don't know how your whole school system works in America, but in England you choose your GCSE options in year 9. Please enjoy this thing I wrote!! Also the BMC book is awesome!!! READ IT. Potential trigger warning for anxiety, I suppose.

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Jeremy looked around anxiously, his eyes scanning the relatively small classroom. He wasn't stalking anyone. Promise! No, he wasn't being a creepy stalker. He was just looking for his best friend Michael. Michael Mell. You know, the one he had a super-gay crush on. But no homo, though.

The teacher was giving him a weird look, but he ignored her as he concluded that Michael was not, in fact, in the room at all. Which was weird. Michael was never late for... well, anything, unless his headphones were broken or something, but Jeremy had seen him earlier and he'd been listening to Bob Marley again. Again, the last he'd seen of Michael had been when the other boy had been pulled into a random teacher's office for something or other. A pretty regular occurrence. Usually for them to tell the music-loving boy to stop wearing his bulky headphones in class. Which he never did, of course.

It was stiflingly hot in the classroom, and Jeremy could feel sweat sliding down the back of his neck as he fanned himself with his textbook. The teacher gave him a dirty look and began taking the register.

"Valentine?"

"Here," Chloe said, chewing on some gum and whispering something to Brooke, who giggled.

"Lohst?"

"Here," called Brooke.

"Rolan?"

"Here," Jenna answered after a pause. She'd been on her phone. Typical.

"Goranski?"

"Yo!" Rich shouted.

"Dillinger?"

"Here," Jake answered lazily.

"Canigula?"

"Here," Christine said shyly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Jeremy's heart ached a little. Things hadn't exactly worked out between them, but they'd agreed to be friends. Friends. Was there anything worse?

"Heere?"

"Present," Jeremy mumbled, raising his hand as he slid down further in his seat. Everyone gave him sympathetic looks, especially Christine. That pitying look. It was the fucking worst.

"Mell?"

Dead silence.

The teacher looked up in surprise, not used to the silence after Michael's name.

"Michael Mell?"

Tumbleweeds.

The teacher turned to Jeremy, who sat up abruptly, his eyes still glued to the door.

"Jeremy? Did Michael go home ill or something?" the teacher asked.

"I don't know," Jeremy confessed, unable to keep the worry and anxiety out of his voice. He glanced momentarily at the empty chair next to him. "He got pulled into some office in the hallway."

All of a sudden, the door flew open. It had been pushed so hard that it slammed against the side wall. Jeremy, who hadn't been expecting it, jumped an inch out of his seat, his eyes automatically travelling to the source of the noise. There was stood the normally perfectly placid Michael Mell, his bag held loosely on one shoulder, his headphones strangely absent from his neck and looking as if he was about to fall apart at the seams.