Be More Chill (And A Few Dear Evan Hansen) One Shots!

Poor Bebé Niño- BoyfRiends

T.W: None.

BoyfRiends

*Jeremy's P.O.V.*

I am sick. So horribly sick. I have this terrible cold, and it seriously feels like my throat is trying to murder itself. I can barely talk, and I can't even breathe through my nose. I've missed a dose of medicine, since it literally pains me to get up. My dad is at work, and my boyfriend Michael is...- I looked at my alarm clock- just getting out of school. Thank god.

I texted him that I was sick, and he told me he would take care of me after school. I scroll through my phone, waiting for Michael to get here. We started dating about a month ago, a few weeks after I broke up with Christine, her deciding to take a break from relationships, and me deciding to finally pursue Michael. Thing is, we were already pretty close, so now we're just all lovey-dovey and kiss. That's literally the only difference. But I've always loved it when Michael takes care of me.

Then I heard the front door open.

"Jer-bear? Are you up in your room?"

I was going to try to call him up, but then I remembered my throat is basically dead. I throw my tissue box onto the floor, trying to make some sort of noise to get him up here. I hear him giggle lightly, and he runs up the stairs. He walks into my room with a small smile on his face.

"Micha~. Help," I whine raspily.
He frowns, and walks towards me.

"Poor bebé niño."

I smile, and grab his hand. I love it when he calls me that, or basically says anything in another language. Espacially Spanish or Fillipino. He gets this cute, low accent whenever he speaks in those languages.

"Do you need medicine?"

I nod my head, and he kisses my hair. He heads back downstairs. He came up after about five minutes, not only bringing up medicine, but also some chicken noodle soup.

"It's homemade~, I brought it from home and just heated it up."
I shot up, and he set down the bowl on my nightstand and chuckled.

"I get it, you like my cooking."

I don't just like it, I love it. It makes my heart flutter when he cooks for me, and he's also really good at it. I took the medicine, swallowing it quickly, followed by a swig of water. I leaned my back against my headboard, and took the bowl, scarfing it down.

"Jesus Jer, take it easy."

It was so good though! I shook my head, and he raised an arched brow.

"I'm taking it away if you don't slow down."

I eyed him, and this time slowly put the spoon up to my mouth. He laughed and ruffled my hair.

"You dork."

He sat down on the bed next to me, waiting for me to finish, and occasionally telling me to slow down. When I finished, I put the bowl back on the nightstand, but me leaning over caused a coughing fit. Michael rubbed my back, and when I was done, he handed me a water bottle and my tissue box. I took them, and blew my nose, and he watched while frowning.

"Pobrecito."

I smiled a little bit, and took a swig from my water bottle. Not even caring anymore, I fell back into the bed, and wrapped myself in the blankets. Michael gets under the covers with me, and pulled me to his chest.

"Micha. You're gonna get sick."

He just pulls me closer, and starts playing with my hair.

"Then we can just cuddle and take care of eachother!"

I laugh, but then, surprise surprise, I start coughing. I quickly turn away from Michael, and cover my mouth with my right arm.

"Awww, my poor wittle Player Dalawa," he coo's.

Since I was facing away from him, he wraps his arms around me, and starts spooning me. I feel my face heat up, and he starts brushing my hair away from my forehead.

"Woah, do you have a fever? You're burning up Miah," he worries well peering over at me.
All the sudden he starts laughing.

"Whaaaaaat?" I ask.

"Oh my god-" w h e e z e "-you seriously look like a tomato!"
I turn around to face him, and smack him lightly across the chest.

"I'm sorry I get embarassed when my boyfriend spoons me!" I whisper yell, afraid if I raise my voice any higher it will literally die.

"Yeah, well, I'm still gonna do it," he says well spooning me again.

"Fine," I mumble.

"You're so adorable mi amor. I love you so much."

I hum against his chest, and entangle my fingers inbetween his sweatshirt.

"I love you too," I whispser.

I drift to sleep as he whispers sweet Filipino and Spanish nothings in my ear. How did I end up so lucky?

Hey guys! I just needed a break from 'I'll Protect You,' idk why, its just... the whole idea of taking advantage of people scares me (espacially sexually). So I gave you guys a bit of fluff! I'm also pretty much just as sick as Jeremy, so I get some extra time to write from school and get to write well coughing my lungs out. But don't you hate it when your throat is basically dead, but your listening to a good song (espacially from a musical) and you start subconsciously singing along, but then your throats like 'what the hell? You're not supposed to sing when I'm literally dying.' And then you end up not being able to talk for an hour? That's happened to me five times in the past two days.😂 I'll update soon! Love you guys!
Bi my queers!
Your flaming, awkward, not-so-straight writer,
-Cecy

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