Touch

Part 26

"Hey. Hey!"

One moment Jeremy was acutely focused on a take-home quiz, Squip soothingly running its hands up and down his sides. The next, his chair was pulled away from the desk and turned, swiveled around to face whoever had been behind him. Before he could really comprehend who it was, he was hit in the face with a pillow. Twice. He practically fell out of his chair, the shock causing him to lean back and blink repeatedly at Michael. He looked upset, pillow raised and threatening to hit him again, lips pursed.

"I'm talking to you." Michael narrowed his eyes, and when Jeremy didn't respond, the pillow collided with his face again.

"Dude, what the fuck." He shoved the pillow away and pushed the chair back to get out of swinging distance until the back of the chair rolled up against the desk.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes."

"So you thought assaulting me with a pillow was the solution? I'm studying!" Michael barked a laugh and tossed the pillow back onto his bed.

"Is it active? The Squip?"

"Uh, yeah, why--"

"Turn it off."

"What? Why?"

"I want to talk to you. Privately." He crossed his arms, staring him in the face, and Jeremy shrunk back against the chair. He almost argued with him, but the look on his face was so serious. He swallowed and glanced at Squip, who said nothing. Jeremy nodded slowly.

"Okay. Fine. It's gone." Squip vanished and Jeremy scrubbed at his face, where the pillow had hit him. What did Michael have in that thing, comic books? Michael advanced on him, jabbing a finger aggressively into his chest.

"What's up with you? You've been super shady, you've been blowing me off. Half the time you look like a zombie." Jeremy pushed Michael's hand away from him.

"What's up with me? What's up with you?" It was a weak comeback and he knew it. Michael snorted.

"I need to know what's going on in your head. This is like high school all over again." He dropped his arms to his side, looking less angry and more tired. "We're still in this together. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that." Jeremy rubbed at his nose irritably, hot shame creeping up his neck. He wasn't wrong; he had been isolating himself recently. He hadn't had a real conversation with Michael in an unusually long time. On top of that, he'd been lying to him, keeping secrets, and Michael wasn't stupid. It was only a matter of time that Michael noticed something had changed, and it looked like that time was now.

Shit.

"Okay." Michael pulled the chair away from his desk and sat across from him. "Then spill."

Jeremy stared blankly, feeling hotter and hotter by the second. 'Oh, yeah, Michael, I've been fucking Squip in my sleep. It's been great. We're totally dating.' He couldn't say that. How could he say that? Fuck, shit, fuck. Michael was watching him, his every move, and he could feel himself start to sweat. Maybe Michael should be a cop, he was good at this interrogation thing.

"Uh, h-how much do you, um, know already?" Michael leaned forward, foot tapping.

"How much do you think I know?"

Jeremy's hands fidgeted in his lap, looking around nervously, trying to escape out from under Michael's gaze. It felt oppressive; he almost activated Squip just to feel better, but that would probably just piss him off more.

"Um. I-I.... You see, it's complicated, like..." Michael wasn't blinking. He'd always been good at staring contests. Jeremy squirmed. "I'm... sort of dating Squip?"