Getting Over Jeremy Heere | Expensive Headphones (Michael x Rich)

Seven

A/N Hallo it is me. Sorry that took so long I'm conditioning for cross country so yeah now i'm busy. Stuffs getting good. Hope you enjoy!

Rich's POV

My pencil slides over the paper easily. I can feel the sketch leaving my brain through the sharpened point. It's a subconscious act, but a welcome one. Drawing feels comfortable. I'm out of practice but I slide right back into the freedom of drawing the angles of one's face. Specifically, Michael's face. He's beautiful, and ever since I woke up I've been itching to draw him. One of the nurses brought me a pad of paper and some assorted pencils, and the project was started. I don't even need a reference, every time I close my eyes the image of that smile is imprinted on the backs of my eyelids. His image is only clearer when he's sitting right next to me in this damn hospital bed.

I'm lost humming to myself softly as the drawing becomes more and more recognizable. When I finally finish I old the paper out in front of me, judging my work. It's just not right. No artist, no matter the level of talent could capture the infectious grin, the slightly chubby cheeks, the way his eyes sparkle with all his emotions so deeply, you could get lost staring into his eyes.

I have gotten lost in those eyes.

I can't make anything even close to the real Michael Mell. And I shouldn't try. I barely deserve to be in the same room as the real Michael Mell. I crumple the paper up in frustration, tossing it (with my newly freed from cast arm) across the room into the trash can. (A/N it's me i'm the trash can)

I miss.

Damn.

I can't even get out of bed yet to pick it up and properly dispose of it. Oh well.

I've been drawing for hours and I'm exhausted. I sink into a fitful sleep.

And the nightmares come back.

Like they always do.

Michael's POV

I step into Rich's room and instantly trip on a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor.

"Ah! What the hell?" I pick up the paper and start to gently unfold it. I can see snippets of what looks like a pencil drawing, but then I hear Rich stirring in the bed. I quickly shove the paper in my backpack.

"Hey Rich what's up? Brought you something!" I dig around in my backpack, like I'm looking for something, instead of like I totally just stole Rich's property.

"Michael! Hi. Watcha got for me?" Rich rubs at his eyes sleepily. I remove a soft teddy bear from the bottom of my backpack and toss it at Rich. He catches it. With both hands.

"No cast?"
"No cath!"

"Awesome!" I give him a high five, and scooch into my normal spot on the bed.

"Thankth for the bear Micah. I love it." Rich looks at me at winks.

"Well. Uh. How do you know I bought it. It might be from uh. Brooke?"
"Oh right. Yeth. Brooke. For thure." He grins a toothy grin. I don't think he buys it.

"NEXT STEP!" I'm sweating nervously. I don't know why. Friends get other friends get well presents! Presents they spent over an hour about. And then the receiver of the present treats it like the best thing they've ever been given, tucking it gently under those really nice looking arms and...

"Have you ever seen To All the Boyth I've Loved Before?" Enough about Rich's arms Michael. Snap out of it!
"Uh. No."

"NO!?"

"No?" Rich sighs dramatically. I'm so confused.

"Well now we have to watch it or you won't underthand the next thep." Rich shrugs nonchalantly. "Open Netflix Mell, we're gonna Netflix and Chill." (A/N i'm double funny. If you get it you get it) I blush furiously.

"Shut up Goranski." I fumble with my laptop.

"What wath that?" Rich throws his arm around me. My heart almost beats it's way right out of my chest.

"Shut upppp."

I watch the whole movie under his arm, too comfortable... uh scared to move an inch.

Rich's POV

"Thooo. Watch think?" Michael is sobbing his eyes out.

"I love ittttt." He sniffles.

"There there. Don't cry. You have to write a letter juth like Lara Jean!" He's so cute. And still under my arm. I might pass out on the spot.

"Noah Centineo is just so cuteeeee." Michael whines as he finally disentangles himself from me to grab a notebook. That's not good. If Noah's his type then I'm screwed.

I wish I could draw Michael right now. Eyes puffy from crying, but somehow still smiling and gorgeous. I wait patiently as Michael writes out his "closure" letter to Jeremy, content to search for freckles on his skin, and contemplate how he still looks hot af while chewing on the pencil eraser.

"Done." He looks up from the letter. "What do I do now?" His fingers are long and nimble, folding up the paper.

"I'm taking it." What am I saying? It'll be torture to read this. Michael's eyes widen in panic.

"IF YOU SEND IT LIKE KITTY I WILL MURDER YOU."

"Calm down Micah! I pinky promith I won't do anything with it." I hold out my pinky.

The simple act of a pinky promise is somehow so intimate and raw, I want to confess my undying love right there on the spot, and then kiss Michael Mell into the next century. He yawns.

"Well. It's late. Bye Richie. See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." The moment he's out the door I'm tearing open the letter.

Dear Jeremy,

I've known you for forever. Pretty much my whole life. You've always been my player 2 and I've loved every one of our inside jokes, sleepovers, and endless gaming sessions. You know you're my favorite person. Sometime around seventh grade I knew. It was more than platonic best friend love. I love you, have loved you for years. Pining after someone who will never love you back is one of the hardest things ever. But you got a SQUIP. And I know you're sorry for that. Dude. I know. I saved your sorry ass after you dumped me in a bathroom alone with my tumbling feelings. But I know it wasn't you. Except at the time I thought I had lost you forever. And worse than loving someone who can never love you back is the way I felt when I thought my best friend was gone for good. I would do anything. Anything. To never feel like that. And something deep inside me knows that telling you about my real feelings would make you leave me for good. And I value our friendship more than I want to date you. So I'm writing you this letter that you'll never read, to prove to myself really, that I'm over you. Because I know, I've always known, that we aren't meant to be. And somehow. I'm okay with that now. There will be someone else for me. I might already have found someone actually... Anyways. I love you. But not like that anymore.

Sincerely,

Me

(A/N I couldn't help myself ok it was too good to pass up)

Michael's POV

I'm lying in my bed about to fall asleep when I remember the drawing in my backpack. I grab out the crushed piece of paper and open up.

It's a beautiful pencil drawing. Rich is really good.

And it's of me.