a/n: yay more angst! i might just have to spam some fluff after this cause wow this is hard to write and that's why i don't do it as much as other people (*glares intently at someone*)(i'm just kidding i love you)
I look over at Jeremy and Christine, who are chatting excitedly about the next play, and sigh softly. I love when he gets animated like this, waving his hands in random gestures that make no sense if you can't hear the conversation. He used to do it all the time when we talked, but he's started to pull back.
He gets up and starts towards me, and I stand too, ready to go.
He's silent in the car, and I pretend not to notice him move his hand away when I reach to hold it. My mind goes to the worst-case scenario, but it always does. It doesn't mean that I'm not imagining these things.
We walk down to my basement in silence, and not the companionable silence we slip into from time to time, cold, chilly, hard silence.
"Do you wanna play ATD?" I ask finally, trying to break the uncomfortable rut we're in.
"Nah."
This is my boyfriend? The Jeremy I fell in love with? The one I've been dating for almost a year?
I did something wrong, I had to have done something wrong. Jeremy loves video games, he loves apocalypse.
Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he never did. I mean. I did think he loved me, and god knows I was wrong on that count.
Unless he did, and now he's realised his mistake.
I should've known it was too good to last, I should've known our days together were numbered, I should've never let him give me hope.
Michael, why'd you let a stupid boy give you hope?
I can't keep my mind in this limbo, did I imagine our entire relationship? The dates, the talks at three am, the laughing and joking.
"Jere?" He looks up from his phone, his features unreadable.
"Yeah?"
"Is there- did I- what- did I do something wrong?"
"What?"
"You know, you've been all weird and distant lately, and I dunno, I was just worried I did something. I probably messed up somehow. Unless I've just misread everything since we got together-"
"What do you mean, 'since we got together'?"
Whoomp, there it is.
"I mean, you know, homecoming? We-"
"Ohhhh that's why you've been so weird."
"What?"
"Listen, Micha, I'm not into you, I'm sorry you thought I was."
"What? I-"
"Sorry bro, you're just not my type."
"I mean, I get that but," I look at my hands, willing the words to come, because I'm afraid of what I know will be his answer, "I thought you loved me, I thought-"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"I just mean," I exhale so forcefully my body withers, and I fold into myself, waving my hands erratically, "yeah, maybe you weren't the most into us, but I'm always putting more in, so I never really questioned it, plus I figured you were still kinda getting over Christine and-"
"There never /was/ an /us,/ Micha. Michael."
"Oh. Um." I ball my hands into fists, clenching them as hard as I can, "Maybe, um, maybe you should go, I- this- I don't like this right now, I think we've-"
"Michael, you have to deal with this, this isn't some video game level you can just pause and restart when you mess up!"
I take a deep breath in, shakily, "You don't think I know that?"
I look up at him, hot tears burning in my eyes, "You don't think I know that the stakes here were higher than a video game? You think I don't know that this is different than that? You don't think that I /know/ that?" My breath catches in my throat, "You don't know what I'm feeling, Jeremy, you don't know, so don't tell me what I have to do, because this is /different/ than whatever you think is going on here."
He doesn't say anything for a moment. I breathe shallowly, my chest feeling like it's closing up, tightening, collapsing in on itself.
"Michael-"
"Please, just go."
"I-"
"Please."
And without further debate, he does.
