Be More Chill Oneshots

It's useless anyway- Michael/Jeremy (Part 2)

Yeah: I'm just warning you people now that this is a total House/Be More Chill crossover. If you've never watched House, it doesn't really matter and you don't have to watch the show, but if you have watched it, good on you. This is a Hilson fic as well then.

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Jeremy's p.o.v

I watch in horror as Michael falls backwards almost in slow motion. His beautiful brown eyes are closed, and his usually tan skin is a sickly white. I lunge for him, but I'm too late and he cracks his head on the laminate flooring. Great.

The receptionist is frozen in fear. I don't think she's ever had anyone collapse in her lobby before. Despite wanting to scream forever, I jump into action and put Michael in the recovery position, giving him a quick kiss whilst I still can. He tastes of vomit but I don't care.

The doctors swarm in, one of them taking me by the shoulder and leading me to the side as I watch them bundle Michael up on a stretcher and whisk him up some hallway or other.

I look back up at the doctor. He has thick chestnut hair that falls in waves on his forehead and kind brown eyes. They're very similar to Michael's, and I think that's why I start crying.

"He'll be fine," the doctor said kindly, smiling at little at me. His voice is so comforting that I can't help but smile back.

"Wilson!" a crabby voice comes from down the hallway. I can't see who the voice comes from, but he (it sounds like a man) sounds pissed. "We didn't come here so you could chit-chat, so get your hot ass back here!"

"Yeah, I'm coming!" the doctor- Wilson- calls back angrily, but the lovesick expression in his eyes says otherwise. He turns back to me. "I'm really not supposed to, and this is highly illegal, but do you want to come up to the operation room's viewing balcony? You seem worried about this kid."

"Worried is an understatement," I reply as we make our way down the hallway. The crabby man is nowhere in sight; in fact, the hallway is practically empty. I wipe my eyes. "Who was that guy calling you earlier?"

"Oh, him?" Wilson laughs. "Don't worry about him. He's here to review some bizarre case, and I'm here to keep him out of trouble."

Just then, his phone buzzes and we stop so he can answer it. I busy myself with the vending machine as he leans against the wall.

"Yes... yes... I know... alright, I get it!... Look, just give me 5, 10 more minutes... yeah, okay." He looks sheepishly to the floor before saying in a quiet voice, "I love you too, now go save some lives."

A Snickers drops out of the vending machine.

"You don't have to be so closeted around me," I say as we move off. He gives me an incredulous look, but his face is heating up. "I'm bi and Michael- the kid who we're going to see- is my boyfriend."

He smiles at me.

Just as we turn the corner, a man appears. He walks lopsidedly with a cane, has a thickly stubbled jawline and battered clothes,  and at first I think he's just some homeless guy who wandered in off the streets but then he limps to Wilson and squeezes his ass, so I assume this is the crabby doctor.

"House! Not in public!" Wilson hisses. House smirks. "We talked about this!"

"Sorry, honey," House replies in the least genuine way possible before turning his attention to me. "Hey. Kid. What's your name?"

"Jere-Jeremy Heere, m-sir," I reply, my voice trembling. The way the man talks reminds me of how my mother used to talk to me. I nearly say ma'am instead of sir. House seems to notice this and his stiff exterior just disappears.

"Hey, kid, don't sound so scared," he says gruffly as we move off. I notice that he grunts softly every time he puts his left foot down. I also notice how Wilson's hand twitches towards House's every few seconds, but he never works up the courage to actually hold his hand. I think he's very, very, very closeted. House isn't as closeted. I look anxiously from side-to-side, trying to find the room that Michael's in. My chest tightens, but I keep looking for Michael. The first priority is Michael.

"It's just in here," Wilson says, looking around conspirically before ushering me inside. "Head straight up those stairs." Then he turns to House. "You go with him and make sure he doesn't get into any trouble- you know what, he'll probably keep you out of trouble. Just try not to get either of you killed or found. This is highly, highly illegal."

House smirks again and nods, kissing Wilson right on the lips before leading me up the stairs.

"So which of your bastard parents abused you, then?" House asks as we slowly make our way up the stairs. I pause for a second.

"Wh- oh, whatever, my mother," I reply, nearly not telling him but changing my mind at the last second. "She used to just hit me if I stepped a toe out of line. She left when I was 14 because I came out as bi."

"There's your boyfriend," House replies as we reach the top of the stairs. I look over to see a large window looking down at the operating theatre. Michael is lying there, pale and drawn with millions of tubes coming out of him. His eyes are closed, but his stomach is cut open. "No time to do pinhole," House explains. "They'll be a huge scar."

I nod dumbly, my eyes fixed on Michael. There seems to be a heck ton of blood and a lot of doctors rushing around. 

"Will he be okay?"

House simply shrugs.

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Michael isn't out of surgery for another 4 hours.

He didn't get into surgery until 6, an hour after it all began, so it is 10 p.m before he gets out. I'm sitting in the waiting room, my knees drawn up to my chest and really half-lying with my head on the armrest. I'm half asleep when Wilson approaches me.

"Hey," he says, gently shaking me awake. I jerk upwards, blinking sleep out of my eyes. "You can see him now. Ward 21, Room 12. There's paperwork to be done: do you know where his parents are?"

"I need Michael's phone," I reply, getting up and stretching. I hear my joints pop. "I think they're in Kansas at the moment."

He nods, leading me to Michael's room.

When I walk in, it strikes me how peaceful he looks. All worry and stress is eradicated from his face and he's just at ease. I collapse in a chair next to his bed, grasping his hand in mine. His phone is on the side, and I grab it with my free hand, calling the contact entitled Mom❤.

"Mikey!" Mrs Mell squeals, picking up on the first ring. "So glad you called, baby! How-"

"It's Jeremy," I say quietly. She stops talking. "I-I think you'd better come back to New Jersey."

"What happens?" she asks, her tone subdued.

"Michael's in hospital. He had appendicitis and he's just had his appendix removed."

I hear her gasp, and there is a long pause.

"The next flight leaves in 3 hours, so we won't be there until... about 4 a.m New Jersey time," she replies. I nod, then realise I'm talking over the phone and hum a little.

"We'll be at Metuchun General Ward 21, Room 12," I say. We exchange goodbyes and I put the phone down.

Then I turn my attention to Michael and try not to freak out.

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Part 3 coming soon! Peace out, my dudes!