Under Pressure

Part 1

Jeremy.

He was holding someone's hand. He couldn't see their face.

Hold on to me.

He could see a smile in the inky dark, familiar, sad. He wouldn't let go for anything in the world.

Don't be afraid.

He wasn't, not until his companion let him go. Jeremy reached out, to grab their hand, but they were too far away now, so far away, too far.

come back come back

.
.
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Jeremy was staring at the popcorn ceiling of his room, groggy and irritated. He didn't want to be up yet, it was too early, but he had things to do and putting them off would just inconvenience everyone else. He rolled over with an overdramatic groan and reached for his phone, unplugging it from the charger.

Five text messages from Michael.

"i know it's late. can't sleep. do we need a potato ricer?"

"what about a cassette player"

"i'm taking your lack of response as a yes"

"about the potato ricer"

"i'm bringing over McDonalds"

That last one was only from a half hour ago. Michael would probably be here any minute, and he'd need to be awake enough to help his dad transport heavy furniture out of his room down into the awaiting U-Haul. He was moving out today, officially, from his dad's place, the house he'd grown up in, and into a shitty apartment with Michael. It only had one bathroom and the online reviews said the place had a roach problem, but Jeremy was still excited about it. Progress. Another step forward.

It was hard to believe it'd already been over a year.

He still struggled sometimes, with the grief, but it was better. Easier. He didn't feel like he was missing an entire chunk of himself anymore; life had filled it in, with conversation and tiny accomplishments until he was a whole person again. Himself. Jeremy. He still missed Squip, though. A lot.

Well. Time to start the day.

Jeremy dragged himself out of bed and started throwing the last of his things into a box. Everything else was already packed, sealed, and ready to go, meaning they could head out as soon as they finished eating. Christine was supposed to meet them later to help them unpack once they moved everything into the apartment. He heard the doorbell ring and his dad call him from downstairs, but Jeremy wasn't ready to leave. Not just yet. The room looked disproportionately small now with everything stripped down to its bare essentials and stashed away.

He felt a little sad to see it like that.

"Yo, Jere, I bought you hot cakes! Hurry and wake the hell up."

"I'm up, I'm coming, chill out." Jeremy picked up the final box and finally stepped out of his now former bedroom, trudging carefully down the stairs, toward a new beginning.

"Jesus Christ, is that it?" Jeremy collapsed onto the couch, the box he'd been holding resting in his lap. Getting everything stuffed inside the U-Haul and then up two flights of stairs had taken much longer than he thought it would. Jeremy didn't even think he had that much stuff until it was all shoved into boxes, and combined with both his and Michael's furniture it'd become a chaotic frenzy to get everything into the bedroom between rain showers. Because, of course, with Jeremy's luck, the 20% chance of rain predicted for the day had skyrocketed to 100. He was tired, sore, and uncomfortably damp.