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Michael was a touchy person. Not as in he got upset easily- that rarely happened -but as in he, unknowingly, touched Jeremy. A lot. For example: when he laughs, he’ll put a hand on Jeremy’s arm or wrist. Or when he’s concerned and checking in, he has a hand on his best friend’s knee. While they do homework together, Michael is always close enough that some parts of their legs are pressed against each other. When Michael wants to get his attention, he’ll put a hand on Jer’s shoulder or nudge him with the side of his body. If they’re talking to someone, one of Michael’s hands will often drift to Jeremy’s back or interlace with Jeremy’s cold hands.
These soft touches weren’t significant, really, but enough that Jeremy had come to expect it. Actually, scratch that- he came to depend entirely on them because it meant Michael wasn’t grossed out by him or something. And the touches were grounding too; they kept him aware while in a conversation and kept him engaged with the situations.
So you can imagine going from getting his Daily Dose of Michael ™ every single day of his life to going cold turkey while Michael spends time with his family in the Philippines. (Or was it Ecuador?) during summer break. Which, yeah okay, this was fucking embarrassing, but he missed it. He missed the warmth, the proximity, and the way Michael seemed to do it absently mindedly. He was touch starved and hated to admit it.
And right, it feels like his body is crawling with longing for his best friend.
***
Jeremy stares at the wall in front of him, laying sideways and hugging a human-sized Creeper pillow that Michael's moms got him for Christmas two years ago. It’s been almost a week since Michael and his warmth took their ass far away from him. To Jeremy, the distance was painfully, in the words of Star Wars, “a galaxy far, far away.” His comforter and several blankets feel heavy on his fragile body but they offer no relief.
He wishes that Michael was here. That weird feeling hasn’t left and it’s annoying. Michael would know what to do about it. He would know how to make the crawly feeling go away. Michael always knew what to do even if he’s never experienced this shit himself. The guy was a master of brief but deep internet searches on whatever he found interesting at the moment.
Geez, Jeremy is so used to having Michael around, he can't figure it out himself. He's lazy; Jeremy hasn’t tried anything yet. Although, he knows he isn’t going to google how to get rid of it because that would be pathetic. Almost lowest of the low, right above asking his dad for help. It's fine if Michael did it because it was a Michael thing. Not a Jeremy thing. Jeremy’s thing was sitting around and waiting for Michael to finish looking up the answer or just waiting until the problem passed.
He shivers but it’s not cold. Jeremy curls more into his blanket, hoping it would replace Michael for just a second. It doesn’t. So far, the only thing that has helped was the brief pat his dad gave him two days ago. Jeremy wishes that his dad would do that again. It felt like part of his skin was tingling with a good kind of energy when Dad had his hand on his shoulder. Like his skin had stopped crawling.
Jeremy puts a hand to his face and closes his eyes. Maybe that would stimulate Michael’s presence. He thinks of what it can be and lets his imagination run wild. Sometimes, when Michael thinks Jeremy is asleep, he'll do this and will whisper sweet things to him. Maybe that's what's happening right now. Or Nanay notices Jeremy has a high temperature and thinks he is sick, so she puts the back of her hand to his face to check and asks him how he's feeling. That sounds nice but Jeremy isn't sick and he hates taking advantage of the Mells' kindness. Or maybe it's nighttime and he's laying next to Michael when Ina leans in to kiss him and Michael goodnight. She likes to use her hand to steady them so that could be what the hand on his face is for.
You know, it's funny how all the people who stop this icky feeling are Michael’s family. People who, for some reason, are the kindest in the world. They always do the right thing. They've never in their lives raised their voice when talking to Jeremy or yelled at him. People who know Jeremy better than his own family. They know his birthday, which Mom and Dad tend to forget. He isn't bitter about it- he knows his parents are going through things and/or have their own lives -but it still hurts that they forgot the person who changed their lives.
They, unlike his parents, remember him. Mrs. and Mrs. Mell both know what kind of foods he likes. They all know what triggers him and what things they absolutely cannot do around him. Hell, Dad doesn't even know what causes Jeremy to have a panic attack. The Mells… love him better than his own family ever could. They are people who probably sense Jeremy is touch starved and give him human touch. It sounds stupid but he can’t help liking it when they do group hugs or when Ina or Michael hold his hand to cross the street. He can't stop the warmth that spreads in his chest every time he and Michael cuddle on their beds when going to sleep. He just… likes it.
He wished his blood relatives did this. Touch him without any sexual intent. Without expecting it in return. Without wanting to know his motives for being close. Without thinking he's up to something. Jeremy’s just a kid; it grows tiring to be expected to have a reason other than just wanting to feel loved. That's all he wants; to be wanted and loved, but that's not how the Heere family worked. Still works, even now. Mom was never that way. She didn't like hugs or cheek kisses or hand-holding. She was always paranoid about why Jeremy did these things. Dad isn't any better but at least he doesn't think his son is up to things when all he wants is a hug.
And Jeremy wonders why he's so touch-starved.
His hand has grown cold and he knows his thoughts have wandered too much. He shoves his pale hand under his Creeper pillow. He wonders if Michael left a sweater in Jeremy’s room recently. So then Jeremy would have something warm and smells like his best friend. He's sure that he would sound crazy if he ever tells anyone about that thought but it sounds like a good idea right now. Anything to stop feeling like spiders were crawling on his skin. He wants the feeling to just stop and give him a moment to breathe. He wants to be back in his best friend’s arms, taking in the smell of weed and 7-Eleven slushies however the fuck that smells.
Maybe it smells like sugar. Or Michael, since he's associated that smell with the guy for so long. The stench has always been stuck in Michael's hoodie, no matter how many times he's washed it. Or maybe it's just… home. Yeah, that sounds right. Weed and slushies smell like home. Possibly mixed in with lumpia because Nanay loves to make them. Ooo, and flan. That would smell like home, despite how fucking white he is. Michael can and will devour if any cups of flan are at hand so Ina secretly buys them. Jeremy gets to smell them in the kitchen all the time. They smell nice. Tastes good, too.
Not that he's ever going to tell anyone. God knows how Dad would react to knowing his son thinks of the Mells as more of a family than the broken one he's in. He knows Dad tries but… the years of neglect don't go away that easily. Michael, Ina, and Nanay were there for him when Dad wasn't. For so many years of his life, that's all he had. The only people who care about how much sleep he's getting, how his grades are, and how his mental health is doing. And now that family is in another country, leaving Jeremy touch starved and alone.
Well, he isn't alone, per se. Dad is in the house but God knows if the man managed to put on pants today. In his eyes, it's the same thing.
Jeremy whined quietly. He hates being without Michael. He kind of thinks he's forgetting his best friend’s voice. Which, in retrospect, is dramatic but he's a theater kid. Making everything sound much more complicated is what he does. Why do you think he's so good at musical theater? By being normal ? Normal's boring, and as Michael would say, give your culture to the musical theater geeks and watch the chaos ensue. See? Even Michael’s opinion on theater geeks was dramatic. There was no escaping the theatrics.
This brings him back to the second big problem at hand. (The first being his touch starvation from an extreme lack of a retro-loving best friend). He really misses Michael. He misses waking up in the morning to the smell of chorizo. He misses having his best friend’s arm around his waist and his stupid weed breath on his neck. He misses Nanay tiredly ruffling his and Michael's hair and then telling Michael, 'don't eat so fast, anak , you're going to get a stomach ache.' He misses the liveliness of the place. He misses being in a house that feels like home and being around other people in general.
It's just… he doesn't have anyone else to be with. Jeremy’s lonely and he hates it. He wants Michael back.
***
"Dude!" Michael says as he walks into Jeremy’s room. Jeremy is laying on the ground. This is today's attempt to get rid of the crawling feeling he's been having for over a week now. He had hoped that the cold would counter it but it's not working. Nothing has worked to get rid of it and he fiercely hates Michael for it. Well, okay that's a lie. Michael’s back and that's all that matters. "Jerm, are you okay?"
Jeremy watches Michael take a knee next to him. His cheek is cold against the hardwood floor of his bedroom. He doesn't feel like moving because he's way too used to the feeling now. It's too late to get up. He's hungry and tired and so fucking touch starved. He kind of wants a hug or to hold Michael’s hand. Hell, just a simple pat on the head would satisfy him. All he wants is to feel loved right now.
"Jeremy?" Michael asks softly. "What's wrong?" Jeremy stares helplessly at his best friend. His family. One of the only people who care enough about him to talk to him. Michael seems to have changed his method of talking to him. "I saw some really cool things on my trip. Took photos to show you and everything. Even brought you back some food that my cousin wanted to send you. She said that you might as well need real Filipino food with all the time you spend with me." He pauses. "My grandma wants you to come next time. Says that she missed you and hopes that school doesn't beat you up too much."
"Really?" Jeremy mumbles.
Michael smiles. "That's the Jeremy I know. Now, can I ask why the fuck you're laying on the ground when you have a perfectly good bed five feet away?" Michael reaches out a hand and tangles it through his best friend’s hair as he sits on the ground. Jeremy feels the urge to purr. It feels so good. He closes his eyes to take in the feeling. He's spent the entire previous week waiting for Michael to come back and give him affection. Thank fuck it's actually happening.
"I missed you," Jeremy whispers. Michael curls some of the longer pieces of hair around his finger. He imagines Michael rolling his eyes because he knows that he didn't answer his friend's question. Deciding to take mercy on Michael, he continued. "I felt really gross last week and this week so I've been trying to get rid of the feeling."
Michael hummed. "I'm sorry we weren't able to take you. I… we all really missed you. Nanay and Ina tried figuring out their shit but Nanay’s business hasn't done so well. And you know how it is when Ina gets stressed about money. It's bad enough they took me so… Wait, shit. I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."
"It's fine. I'm gonna forget that in a couple of minutes." Michael laughed quietly. "Can we, um…" Jeremy drags his body up, so he can sit. Michael’s hand slides out of his hair and he fights the urge to pout. He fumbles with their hands but manages to interlace their fingers. A warm feel seems to spread from his hand. “Sorry. Sorry, I just… I missed you.” He moves himself closer to Michael, settling next to the faintly blushing filipino. Jeremy leans close to his best friend and rests his head on Michael’s shoulder. The touch-starved boy yawns and uses his free hand to rub at his eye.
“Tired?” Michael asks. Jeremy nods. Michael’s hoodie is soft and he radiates warmth. He doesn’t smell like weed, which is a weird change. It makes sense that the smell would go away from all that time being spent not smoking. Jeremy isn’t sure whether or not he likes it. The crawling feeling is slowly going away so that's good. He nearly forgot what it was like to not have it. “Wanna take this up to the bed before you knock out?”
“Mm. But you’re so warm.” Michael laughs. Not a mocking one or a fake one. It makes Jeremy think that Michael missed him as much as he did Michael. Huh. He hasn’t thought about that before. Michael just sounds… fond. Like he doesn’t mind that Jeremy’s not moving. Like he doesn’t care that when Jeremy wakes up later, he’s going to freak out about being a sleepy idiot.
“C’mon. It’ll hurt tomorrow if you sleep sitting down.” Jeremy whines and Michael makes a ‘tsk’ noise at him. “Jerbear. Buddy. ‘Miah. Platonic love of my life. Bes . My player two. Jerm. Bestie. I’m gonna take you to your bed and you’re not allowed to protest it.” But it’s so comfy right here. Logically, he knows Michael is right but his sleep-addled brain loves to disagree with Michael. So here we are, with a tired Jeremy Heere not wanting to move from a human Mell Pillow.
As Michael stands up and pulls Jeremy with him, Jeremy says, “I hate you so much right now.” Michael just smiles sweetly at him. He probably knows that Jeremy doesn't mean it; that Jeremy can never hate the boy whose family practically raised him. A family that is still raising him as Dad falls apart in the absence of Mom. They don't have to say it but both boys know what goes unsaid.
Michael manages to drag his best friend over to the bed and under the many blankets. Michael goes as far as to tuck him in. He quickly presses a kiss to the crown of Jeremy’s forehead and brushes the hair out of his eyes. He leaves the hand on Jeremy's cheek. "Love you," Michael whispers. They're used to saying this type of stuff to each other. Michael knows how little love Jeremy gets at the Heere household and Jeremy’s grateful he remembers.
"Love you too." Jeremy moves his head ever so slightly, silently asking Michael to… Well, caressing his hair sounds weird but that's basically what he wants. Petting might be another not as odd word but he doesn't feel like being called a furry. Whatever. It doesn't matter because Michael’s doing exactly what he’s wanted since the guy went on his trip.
Before Jeremy falls asleep to the warmth of his best friend’s hand and the absence of metaphorical bugs walking on his skin, Michael whispers, "Good night, you touch-starved furry." Michael kisses his forehead again and it only slightly makes up for what the Filipino said. Jeremy pretends that he didn't hear what Michael said because he wants to have the illusion his friend thinks he isn't a goddamn furry. Which he isn't .
Jeremy makes a mental note to slap Michael in the face tomorrow. How dare he make his last thought before going to sleep be about defending himself from being called something he isn't. Fucking rude best friend.