I'd Pause My Game For You (Michael x Jeremy BMC)

Chapter 21: The Canigula's

T.W: Some Violence

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Jeremy's POV

     I had texted Christine over a million times, trying to find out what happened and if she knew about Mickie almost killing Michael. As I drove to her house, I received a call from Rich, asking where I was. "I'm driving to the store for some snacks for Michael," I lied. "Why do you ask?"

     "I'm at the hospital right now. Michael told me you just up and left."

     "Yeah, it's a surprise. But I'm in traffic right now, can I call you back?"

     "I-I mean, sure? You kn-"

     "KAY THANKS, BYE!" I yelled into the phone, abruptly hanging up. I hate that Michael's worried, which is making me worried, but I should be fine.

~^*^~

     I parked my car in her driveway, quickly running to her door. I must have rung it a bunch of times, because I heard Christine yelling, "Shut up! I'm coming, Jenna!" Her face grew from a smile when she opened the door, to a growl and frown. 'What do you want, Heere?"

     I froze. "Jenna?"

     She sighed, "Yes, stupid. I'm pansexual, remember? I forced you to come to the Gay-Straight Alliance meeting with me once?" Oh. Right. "Anyways, you obviously came here for a reason, Heere. Did you forget something after you broke my heart?" She smiled, obviously sarcastic.

     I looked away, trying not to look at her, crossing my arms. "I need to ask you a real question. No bullshit."

     I saw her straighten up a little. "Everything okay?" She asked, slight worry in her voice.

     I felt my tears well up, just thinking about Michael hurt in that hospital. "Michael was assaulted two days ago before first period in school. He was found in the guy's bathroom by Rich." Tears flew down my cheeks like a river, and it didn't take Christine a long time to understand.

     As I wiped my face, I saw Christine; mouth ajar, eyes wide, staring at me. She was basically repeating, "Are you kidding? That's horrible!" With her body language. She slowly walked toward me, hugging me tightly. Gradually, I returned the favor.

     "Th-that's terrible... I'm so s-sorry..."

     "That's not all," I breathed. "I have reason to suspect that your brother had something to do with it."

     Christine looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. "M-My brother?!"

     I nodded, "When I was talking to Michael, he described the person who assaulted him with dusty blonde hair, tall, with a red leather jacket. He has a group of goons with black leather jackets with him."

     She let go of me, slightly pushing my frail body out of the doorway. "How DARE you accuse my brother of assaulting your boyfriend? I understand you're angry, but you have to start thinking about other people's feelings."

     I glared at him. "I'm not accusing. Your brother beat up the man I love!"

     "You're crazy!" Christine pushed me and slammed the door shut in my face. I banged the door, nearly breaking it.

     Okay, so I didn't nearly break it.

     As I walked to my car in defeat, I saw a big van park into the driveway.

     And there they were.

     Mickie Canigula and his goons.

     When he notices me, I straighten up, glaring at him. He smirks and walks over to me, his bumbling daycare in greaser costumes, stumbling behind him.

     He stands in front of me, a silence for a few seconds. He looks me up and down. Soon, he smiles, pinching my cheeks. I slap him away from me as all his friends laugh at my expense. Mickie signals them, telling them to go into the house.

     When they are all gone into the Canigula house, Mickie's cocky smirk fades. "Listen, faggot. You hurt my sis pretty bad. So, I just returned the favor."

     My eyes went wide. I pushed him to the side of the house, hand around his throat. "I knew it was you!" I yelled.

     He punched me straight in the face, and I went down. Hard. He placed his foot on top of my torso, so hard I couldn't breathe. "You tell anyone, faggot, and I'll make sure you NEVER see your boyfriend again."

     With that, he walked into the house, graceful and innocent.

     I got up and quickly ran into my car, breathing heavily. I put a hand to my cheek, but as my fingers taped my skin, I shot away from the pain. I put down my rear-view mirror to see a bruise forming on my cheek.

     I couldn't go to Michael like this.