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My Store-Bought Brain Isn't Smart Enough To Comprehend These Feelings Send Help

  hey lads I'm in an absolutely awful mood so I want to write nothing but fluff to cheer myself up so the next few chapters are going to be pure unadulterated tooth-rotting fluff prepare yourself y'all

  When I woke up, I was well aware of the fact that I definitely was not on the couch anymore. I was on some kind of bed, which threw me for a loop, considering I definitely did not fall asleep on a bed. I also definitely do not remember falling asleep next to Jeremy.

  Wait.

  I almost have seven fucking panic attacks at once because holy shit holy shit holy shit—Jeremy has his head stuffed in my chest, I have my face buried in his hair, and his legs were wrapped around my torso, and I suddenly get the overwhelming feeling to screech at approximately ninety-seven decibels—what the fuck, how the fuck, how did this happen—

  I force myself to calm down. Okay, breathe. Okay.

  Problem #1: I have awoken in an area I have no recollection of falling sleep in.

  Rational explanation: The only reason I'm here is because of Jeremy or Christine probably thinking that the couch would be too uncomfortable and they just decided on moving me to the bed. That's nothing to worry about.

  Problem #2: If I move, Jeremy will wake up, and that will make me feel guilty for the rest of my life.

  Rational solution: I can move to a more comfortable position fairly easily without waking him up.

  I suck the air through my teeth and very gently lifted my arm so that it was above and over the blanket, which made the overwhelming humidity of Jeremy's room way more bearable.

  When I did this, however, I felt Jeremy cuddle up closer to me, and I instantly want to scream, but that'd wake him up, and I'd rather go to prison for thirty years than do that.

  Another problem arises.

  Problem #3: I want to get up and get some food, but if I were to do so, I'd abruptly wake Jeremy up, and I don't know a lot about his sleeping patterns, but after having a handful of sleepovers with him and Christine, I know that the only rest he gets is when his eyes close when he sneezes.

  Rational solution: If I wake him up very carefully, then maybe he'll have an easier time falling back asleep afterwards.

  "Hey... Hey, buddy?" I whisper softly, "Can you wake up for a second?"

  I hear nothing from him. Damn. He's out.

  "Jeremy," I say a bit louder, shaking his shoulders as carefully as humanly possible, "Hey Jere."

I hear a sigh, and then after a few seconds his eyes flutter open, he looks me in the eyes for a few seconds before getting a dopey smile on his face, "Michael?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, buddy."

  He lifts his head from the pillow and rubs his temple with his fingers. He pulls his knees to his chest and reaches out for my hand, holding it for a moment, "...C-Can we go back to sleep please?"

  I can't help but smile as I hold his hand to my chest, "You can, but I want to go get some food, is that okay?"

  "Oh... yeah..." Jeremy looks kind of out of it, and lays back down and lets out an exhale, "Sure."

  I nod and climb out of the bed, making my way to the door, when suddenly—

  "Uh... a-are you coming back?"

  I turn around to face him, and he looks like the human embodiment of sleepiness. He has one of those shirts on that your parents usually give you that is ten times too big, but you feel too bad to not wear it, so you just end up wearing it to bed or some shit like that. His everyday hair already kinda looks like stereotypical bedhead, but right now his hair was a whole different kind of level of bedhead.