boyf riends one - shots!

requited love

UM

, hi

i died recently, aka for like a year, bUT EY, it's 5am and i am bored, soo

why not entertain y'all with boyf riends

happy corona virus, stay inside bros!!!!!!!!!

I NEVER GOT TO THE 100K SMUT SHOT OOPS ??? MY BAD ????

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it was september! aka the month that hell comes back, or as adults like to call it, high school. their senior year. everybody's final year until they're off to jobs and getting married and college — well, college/university probably comes first. 

michael and jeremy's plans haven't changed since junior year. 

go to the same college, become cool ( or rad, michael calls it rad ), get a dorm room together, work at an arcade together.. yeah, pretty much everything together. jeremy made a promise to never leave ever since the.. incident, that also went down in junior year. 

but they don't talk about that anymore. 

but alas! we won't talk about the future, for now, let's focus on senior year. the last year that popularity actually matters in your life — what the hell are you supposed to do with popularity after high school??  —  along with looks & reputation. 

jeremy heere anxiously walks into the crowded school, sweaty hands dug into the pockets of his oversized cardigan. yes, he still wore the classic striped t-shirt, dirty converse, cardigan, and cuffed jeans. he's like another version of charlie brown. did everyone have a glow-up except him?? looks like it. jeremy still looks as pale as a ghost, meanwhile jake was over there looking like he just came back from the bahamas. wait, did he actually—

"yo, heere!" a familiar voice calls out from behind, before feeling an unbelievably strong — yet short — arm wrap around his neck, and yank him downwards. ah, rich goranski. his fellow squipped freak, as people liked to call it last year. "h-hey, rich," jeremy chuckles nervously, standing up and straightening out his back as the shorter let him go. 

"what'th up, man! you thure haven't changed much." rich teases, a toothy grin spread wide over his freckled face — his fire scars were there, just faded now. jeremy hated that party. "yeah, um, no i haven't." he awkwardly agrees, adjusting his backpack. "but you're into flannel now, huh? and are you copying michael's bandanas?" he snickers, raising an eyebrow. 

rich rolls his eyes, flipping him off at the copying michael part. "firtht of all, michael introduthed me to bandanas over thummer break, and flannel is for bisexualth now, bro! tho i'm owning it, you know?" he slicked back his hair with a smooth wiggle of his eyebrows.

"i'm thurpithed you aren't rocking thome flannel right now." rich glances him up and down, jeremy's eyes widening. "wh— what's that supposed to mean! are you saying— oh my god, no! i mean, i don't know but— THAT'S NOT THE POINT! fuck you." jeremy groans, burying his face into his hands out of frustration. rich laughs, nudging him and shrugging.

"in your dreamth, heere! see ya later!" rich does finger guns as he spins around on his heel to walk away towards jake, them doing their classic handshake, as always. jeremy groans, adjusting his cardigan and wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.