Whatever oneshots •Boyf riends•

Michaels mistake [Trans Jeremy, Angst]

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Is how I feel writing this
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~Jeremy's pov~

Running for my life, fearing every little move I make will get myself killed. The SQUIP is off, and Jakes coming after my ass. He's yelling which doesn't help, whenever people yell, I think they're going to bash me. Which is uh, not to far from what's going to happen to me any moment now.

I head downstairs, almost tripping in a panic as I throw my pac-man hoodie back on. It's my only comfort now, as I run past drunken teenagers and head for the bathroom.

I open the door, thanking the lord that it's not locked or preoccupied, and slam it shut once I'm in. I lock it, with my trembling and shaking fingers.

I catch my breath, knees too weak too stand anymore. I fall to my ass, shuffling back in fear until my back hits the bathtub. I catch my breath, staring at the door just in case Jake bursts in magically.

Silence settles on my shoulders, and I take a shaky breath. Pulling my knees to my chest and hugging myself, 'T-Ta-take deep bre-breaths, Jeremy-y, take d-deep breaths.' I murmur to myself, rocking back and forth to calm myself.

I feel a hand slam on my head, and a scream immediately emits from my throat. I panic, and fling my arms in the air. Trying to sway away the hand, or whatever it is, off my head. Still screaming, I shuffle forward and turn. Panting heavily as tears spark my eyes.

'Sup.' It's Michael.

Oh, so Michaels the one trying to kill me.

First, it's Chloe Valentine trying to freaking sexually assault me. Then it's Jake Dillinger trying to rip my nonexistent balls off! And now, my best friend, Michael Mell. Well, guess what?! He's trying to kill me! What else is out for me tonight.

Michael stands up, he hasn't noticed my tears yet. Well, good. I guess I don't want to seem weak, though, my stammers and voice cracks say otherwise.

'M-Michael?! I . . .' I take another breath, clutching my chest, and gulping. 'I didn't know you were invited t-to this party . . .' I gulp. Michael looks to me, almost glaring. 'I wasn't.' He scoffed.

He stepped out of the tub, 'Which is why I wore this,' he grunted, taking off monster-mix-up costume thing. He looked to me again, 'clever disguise!' He huffed, gesturing to the now off costume. Which, he threw in the bathtub.

I stare to him, taking in his appearance again. I miss him, I miss him so much that I cry over it every night. Then get zapped and scolded for doing so, well SQUIP, I apologise for being so goddamn emotional! It's not my fault that I can't help but miss the only person who really knows me . . . I feel tears fall down my cheeks, well fuck.

Michael did notice my tears, his face softening for a moment. He caught himself in his sympathy and quickly stopped himself from any comfort he would give me, crossing his arms. He glared, 'You're speechless.'

Michael growled, 'SQUIP got your tongue?'

I blink and realise I'm crying, I whimper and sniffle. Gee, I'm pathetic.

I wipe the tears out of my eyes, and when I'm done. I see Michaels hand out for me, I take it and he helps me to my feet. I sniffle, holding onto his hand because I want to cling to him as cry and tell him everything that's happened. And just, vent.

I sniffle a pathetic, 'It's off. .'

Michael notices how upset I am, and holds onto my hand as a small sigh of comfort. He glared at me though, I guess he has his own stuff to vent about. 'That would explain why you're talking to me.' He growled, his face grim and mad.