I want to thank my friend HolyRabbit for helping me with the translation. Without her, I would not have achieved it.
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Teenage life is not as good as adults tell you, at least if they asked him.

He had heard it hundreds of times from celebrity mouths, even teachers or family members. Always the same phrase "It's the best stage of your life where you don't have the responsibilities of an adult but you have more freedom than a child." In addition to selling those clichés of films with school plot—Like High School Musical—where all students are friends without exception, they smile, go to parties and sing about the fun of going to lock yourself eight damn hours in a school establishment to support the teachers, the tasks, the jobs. But of course! None of that matters-not to mention that they don't even take it into account or exist-as long as you have your group of friends to have that happy and glistening smile of toothpaste commercial twenty-four hours a day.

Well, fuck that shitty lie.

He may have believed in that as a child, but they couldn't hide the harsh reality for so long, at some point he would be a teenager and he would see how "good" that stage would be.

And what could I say until now? Adolescence can be great, but not for everyone, not for him.

Because to begin with: the school is not full of friendly people who welcome you with open arms or worry to be good people, no. It is full of beautiful girls but haughty and gossiping, silly but athletic and attractive boys, nerds interested in the life of the microorganisms that live in a moldy chicken sandwich, the normal ones that pass unnoticed or maybe not, teachers who are bitter without the most minimal trace of interest beyond reaching the end of the month and finally those who were like him.

And what was he like? Well... A loser, to catalog easily.

Jeremy Heere was no more than an average geek. The typical guy who prefers to spend time at home playing video games and eating junk food instead of doing something more interesting or good for his life like socializing with others, studying to at least approve scraping, or worrying to be noticed, because those last options were fatal.

High school is hell, adolescence is hell, everything at that age is hell.

"The stage of changes" Why? Why should things change if they are right as they are? Why are the boys who were kind becoming empty-heads who only talk about sports or about the girl they had sex with over the weekend—Or even more, no one is really sure—and only set their sights at guys like him just to bother them without an apparent reason? Why do gentile and tender girls become bitches who take advantage of their beauty, speak badly of their friends behind their backs and betray them when they can?

Is it that the change was mandatory to be accepted? It seemed to be like that, because he had not done it, and it wasn't like he was in good status for it.

As if changing your body and bear the hormones wasn't enough, you must change the interior. Something like changing the case to your cell phone to make it look better, and then realize that it doesn't look good with that brand, you throw the phone and you get a new one. A complete replacement, basically.

He hated the changes, at the same time he longed for them. He hated them for not having them.

He hated still being himself.He hated to remain himself.

"C-c-c c'mon c-c-c- c'mon, go, go! Stupid computer."

He cursed for the thousandth time his slow internet, and also the innocent bar that was filling with blue showing the message of "Downloading" and the percentage frozen in 34% for half an hour in which it should have already reached 100%. If his artery or brain didn't burst caused by the rage that gave him this situation, it would be a miracle.

He snorted, running his hand through his hair and checking the time; 6:55 a.m.

He grunted, hating the internet that didn't deign to download his morning porn and also the need that drove him to download it in the first place.

Stupid hormones.

"Can you go any slower or what?" He restrained himself from doing any violent, irrational and stupid act towards the computer. That, instead of magically solve his problems with the network, probably would only damage the computer.

He looked at the time again, giving a complaining sigh. As much as he needs to alleviate the consequences of the wet dream that woke him earlier than usual, it wasn't convenient for him to be late to school because he missed the bus. He didn't marvel at the idea of going like in a sardine can with his companions or being an easy victim of some trick, but less tempting was running to be on time and arrive sweating, stinking, bleeding from the nose and half dead, not to mention it wasn't very comfortable for him to have to walk with the problem under his pants still in force.

Definitely, it's a good day to be a hormonal teenager.

Well, hopefully, the daily routine would bore him so much that it would make him forget for a few moments the mental images of the previous night and it would be fine. He closed the laptop, convinced of it, sitting on the bed to put on pants and change his shirt before entering the bathroom to enlist.

He wasn't even more than two minutes in the bathroom alone, and what was bothering him now was already happening: his father in underwear went into the bathroom looking for who-knows-what.

"Dad! Geez! Haven't you heard of privacy?!" Seriously. What the hell with his habit of appearing into shorts in every place of the house for some reason or another? He could say with all the security of the world that after years living with him he had no concrete explanation yet.

"We're all men in this house. Pretend we're in the army." He just answered with a carefree tone returning to what he was doing before, searching through the objects in the bathroom, while Jeremy preferred to walk away with great discomfort but not before taking the toothbrush and toothpaste. Pfff, like if he needed the mirror to brush in the morning.

"Just... When I get home... Please have pants on. Okay?"

"Ten-hut!" And as quickly as he had appeared, he went out the door for Jeremy's fortune.

His father, Paul Heere, is not that he didn't love him as such, simply... What was the right word to describe what he felt when people found out that that bald guy who doesn't wear pants is his father? Embarrassed, yes, that was the word he was looking for. Further, they could judge him for feeling sorry to be related to him, but if others were in his situation they would understand.

Paul was divorced, his wife had left them when Jeremy was around five or six years old and he never heard from her again when she left home. She didn't put the effort to visit him, to make calls to congratulate him on his birthday... Not even a silly cheap card of good wishes.

Basically, it was as if the woman had vanished in the air without a trace.

Did it hurt him? Not really, because the only thing he remembered about her was the complaints towards his father, the fights, and of course his exhausted face, light blue eyes like the sky, blond hair, straight and short, and his silhouette always close to the phone while smiling by talking to the man who would take her away from her family. In short, what hurt him wasn't having a mother like all the other young people of his age. But did he miss her in particular? Not much, almost nothing.

In fact, I could even say that he hated her. His farewell left a father who almost didn't care about him beyond keeping him and having short and uncomfortable talks where he tried to be the dedicated father he definitely wasn't, and a confused boy who never understood why his mother didn't return from work and that he didn't have the support of his other father figure to overcome the altercations of his life properly.

His father knew almost nothing about his day-to-day life, probably believed that he had more than one friend, he had a great time at school, and everything for him was peaches and cream. And although he could say that it was partly his fault for not taking the initiative and talking about it, he honestly didn't expect any useful advice or a solution from Paul.

He didn't want to be like him, and in spite of everything, he seemed, just younger and in a totally different atmosphere to the home.

I shouldn't even show up at school today.

If the house wasn't the best, the school was less. However, he had a little sense of responsibility yet.

He hurriedly prepared, finishing with the cleaning basics, putting on his shoes, a blue Cárdigan and quickly checking if he had all his notes and school supplies before leaving. Classes had started about a month ago but he was still distracted and on more than one occasion he ended up forgetting something important.

He thought he heard his father say goodbye, but he didn't have time to answer because he had already crossed the door, doing what he couldn't do in the house a few meters away; stretch comfortably releasing a long and sleepy yawn.

Wel... Good morning! Time to start the day!

The bus stopped at its stop a few minutes later, and as usual, he chose an empty seat in front. Most preferred to go the back of the bus to make more fuss and not being noticed by the driver who, by the way, couldn't care less how much shouting and throwing things can do those uncontrolled teenagers. As long as no one broke a window, everything would be fine and they could even fuck.

Just as expected, at some point every other popular or bully wouldn'tice his light, curly and undulating brown hair that stood out among the passengers in front. He didn't hear what kind of insult was thrown out at him, although he did feel the light hit of a paper ball in his head.

He looked away to the window trying not to give importance to that. He had everything she needed to cope with any mockery or comment from others: his very well-feigned indifference and a white paper folded in the pocket of his pants that he ended up taking out secretly, careful not to be seen by anyone, not even the driver.

With this done, he checked until he found the subtitles "Snotty comment" and "Laugh", marking a tilde in each one after the many others in the other categories.

Jeremy Heere wasn't a boy of good habits, among them his mania for noting in each category all kinds of small or big humiliation towards his person made by his classmates and even by people outside his school. It didn't matter where, who or when, if he thought it necessary, there would be another tilde more on the list. And for him, it was always necessary.

That's right, Jeremy was a masochist in a certain way.

At first, that started as trifle at thirteen years after one of his classmates pulled his pants down in gym class, fervently believing that it would only be something he would burn one day before another school year to say "Never mind, new year, new opportunities. Like a blank sheet." And yes it was, another blank sheet to fill per year. Currently, he didn't even burn the sheets, he accumulated them in a drawer with no objective in mind. Maybe he just wanted to remind himself of the reason why it was convenient for him to become invisible.

The bus stopped and with it came the maddened horde of teenagers. Jeremy followed them but from a distance. Many spoke in groups about what they would do after school, homework, couples, they even talked about the optional classes they had presented last week.

He didn't pay much attention to that and looked for his locker until he found it and those who were chatting in front.

Chloe Valentine headed the talk, she was the most popular and sexy girl according to the statistics of his classmates. And the truth is that he doesn't deny it, Chloe was pretty, with brown and wavy hair until more under the shoulders, dark eyes and a chic and cool style. She was pretty, but nobody can ignore how annoying it was that she was always talking about one of the girls from another class called Madeline. It was as if Chloe lived alone to criticize her.

Beside her was the second most beautiful girl in the institute, —Or class, God knows what others relied on to make the imaginary list—Brooke Lohst. A girl shorter than Chloe, with bright blond hair, brown eyes and gesture less intimidating or hostile than her best friend. She spoke less than Chloe, but she was still her friend so he didn't expect her to be different to her.

"So Jenna Rolan said Madeline was all, "I'll only have sex with you if you beat me at pool." And then she lost at pool. Deliberately!" She spoke with notorious indignation, while her best friend nodded with manny attention.

"That is so awesome." Brooke said, getting reprimanded.

"Brooke!"

"I mean slutty!"

Jeremy tried to be patient and make his feet crawl more slowly on the way to his locker. He didn't want to meet anyone with "high status" all morning long, because he felt that the chances of going unnoticed were going down. What did he think? Just being close to someone was enough. But the popular ones are a particular case, they make that next to them one feels an insignificant insect that feels sorry to only be breathing the same oxygen from their surroundings.

He noticed that Jenna Rolan stopped beside them in a friendly way. She wasn't one of the prettiest girls according to others just because she was a little overweight, but at his judgment, she wasn't ugly. Jenna Rolan was pretty, in a slightly more innocent way. She had long straight brown hair with a tuft of pink hair, light blue eyes, and was always dressed in an extravagant and striking way, painting her nails and wearing colored bracelets, always carrying her cell phone as an extension of her arm.

Jenna wasn't so cruel, at least he wanted to believe it, but she was only popular for her style and for being "the fastest in far New Jersey" to spread gossip all over the school with just typing on her cell phone or telling it to a person. She was much more efficient than a newspaper, but it is true that as everyone does, she only mattered to it to make the news stand out and to do so, she would remove some details or add false ones. It is true that many people had a hard time when she was divulging about their lives, but in the end, with or without her, that would happen.

"And then Madeline was all—"

Before saying anything else, Jenna backed up in fright at how Chloe slammed the door of her locker, giving her an angry glare.

"I'm telling the story, Jenna!"

Jeremy sweated cold, realizing he couldn't encourage his walk any longer to avoid asking the girls to step out of the front of the locker. And yes, when you feel dread of asking for something so simple to the popular people is because you have a social anxiety disorder, or in the case of Heere; being invisible to them is important.

"Eh... Excuse me, Cannot you...?" He had retaken all the courage in the world to speak nervously pointing to the locker in a vague and imprecise way, only for them to see him with an expression of displeasure, and Chloe to turn to her friends with a whisper that was meant to be only for them, but that he ended up listening.

"Oh my god, he was like, getting off on that..."

Jeremy resigned himself to opening his locker to keep some books while Chloe and Brooke left by their side and Jenna by the other.

Another one to the list of snotty comments.

Mental note for all of you, young teenagers. If a pretty girl whispers something offensive about you to her friends in a tone that you can hear, it's not because she mind don't hurting your ego, but she can't control the volume of the voice, it's because she want you to know that you are being a nuisance without telling you directly and she know you will not dare to defend yourself.

He sighed, writing another tick quickly on the page before saving it, closing his locker and heading to the classroom. He wanted to avoid more uncomfortable moments like that for today, but apparently the universe still enjoyed the show and decided that it would be more entertaining if he collided with Rich Goranski.

And guess what? He was another popular kid. A boy of his age of short stature but robust build with muscles that give fear and a huge force for a skinny taller than him. Rich stood out for his rude attitude and being quite loud, but if they referred to his appearance, he wasn't left behind either, because despite his common brown eyes he had his unmistakable red stripe in the middle of his brown hair.

Jeremy very often compared him to a rooster because of this, and because Rich was loud. And although it sounded funny, it wasn't convenient to tell Rich, much less at that moment that he was looking at him furiously for having interfered with his path.

"Yo, don't touch me, tall-ass!"

Jeremy backed away, intimidated until he touched the lockers with his backpack, making a nervous smile that at least could give a little sympathy for think "This guy is pitty, it's not worth grinding him to death."

"Sorry, I was just... trying to get to my..."

He didn't get hit, but his excuse was cut short when Rich made him turn around and stamped his face against the lockers.

"Don't move."

Jeremy didn't move an inch waiting for a blow, but instead Rich just laughed softly and by the time he did it he flipped Jeremy over and grabbed him by the neck of his shirt.

"You wash that off, you're dead!" After that and a smirk, he released him and shoved him away from his position. And as if it was a bad joke, just then Jake Dillinger was passing by.

Jake was the perfect stereotype of a popular boy. He had well-groomed brown hair, blue eyes, tall and well-formed, handsome, charming for girls, sportsman, wearing the red coat of the school to show some commitment to that, etc. He was the guy who can flirt with anyone, is victorious in everything that is proposed, and that many guys admire even though he was an idiot.

Rich approached him with a friendly air and Jake let himself be hugged by the shoulder. Both were very good friends since Rich arrived in the second year. And how could he not? Popular go with popular.

"Jakey D! What's the story with Madeline?"

"I shouldn't say. But..." Jake made a mysterious gesture before smiling slyly at Rich. "It's a good thing I rock at pool." They continued laughing until they were far enough away.

And yes, gentlemen, that's what Jeremy mean when he say that school is hell, you have to deal with that type of aggressors and see before you the guys that you will never surpass in anything.

Of course that wasn't the worst part of the day, no. If there was something that he hated more than drawing the attention of the most powerful of the institute, it was walking in the corridors.

Jeremy Heere didn't think there was anything more stressful than walking down the aisle of the school, it's not like being on the bus because everyone is sitting there and accumulated in a place far away from him, and it is almost unlikely to be disturbed unless they like it. In contrast, the corridor was different, the percentage of probabilities to be humiliated doubled.

Nobody was focused on anything else, he felt everyone was watching him. Each step, each movement, each gesture, the posture. It was as if from being the geek that no one noticed he transformed to a candidate for a buffoon from whom everyone expected some mistake for mock it. The center of attention of malicious looks.

He hated that, not only because sometimes it was hard for him to keep his breathing regular, but he also had a defect, and when he got nervous he blushed easily. Ridiculous, simply ridiculous.

He kept his eyes fixed on the poster at the end of the hall so as not to see anyone in the eye, he was only pretending to want be close enough to read what he said and dissimulate, but it was inevitable that the printed images would end up calling his attention

Sign-up for the after school play.

His eyes lit with excitement just by reading it, containing a scream that wanted to escape his throat and the desire to make small jumps in its place. They will already be guessing, Jeremy loved the theater, maybe not so much as to wish to become an actor in the future, but it was among his few favorite things. Why? Because on stage you don't have to be yourself, you have a role to play, and mistakes or actions are only part of the script. No one will judge you but the character, and the best part is that even being the villain of the story... What you get at the end are applause, impressed looks and approval.

You receive acceptance.

But that mental bubble that had formed at that moment had to burst.

He bit her lip indecisively about whether or not to sign his name. No matter how much he liked the idea of signing up, deep down he knew that he wasn't made for that and that he would ruin it until he was a background character or a tree, and not only that, these days his classmates—and almost all of society, in fact—they believed that being part of the world of performing art was like sticking yourself a poster with little lights and neon colors that says: "LOOK AT ME, I'M GAY AS FUCK".

He wanted to be invisible, not be recognized as the effeminate gay of school. Well, that meant that this would be another thing that made him happy discarded.

If he was lucky, maybe he would get a little relevant role and nobody would remember him after the play.

Maybe I can sign when everyone leaves.

He nodded to himself, turning around for the hallway on the way to his classroom. He had planned to pay attention in classes this year to avoid doing things at the last minute, much more in history that terribly bored him even if they started talking about Alexander Hamilton and the story of his life—Which was already known thanks to the blessed musical and a few hours of research out of sheer curiosity—because his teacher didn't want him very much and seemed to be sleepy in each class.

But we are talking about Jeremy Heere, something had to happen to prevent him from fulfilling his goodwill with studying, even if it wasn't with more classmates throwing paper balls or something unpleasant, on the contrary. As soon as he turned down the other corridor and his eyes planned to do a quick scan to find his classroom, his whole world went upside down.

If there is something that you can not save in adolescence, it is the inevitable attraction to the opposite sex. Nobody was saved from being awestruck by the most beautiful girl in the room, or by some known to which you daren't speak to her, even a friend.

But no, Jeremy didn't enter among them, not because he didn't go through it, but rather because that person who made him sweat from the nerves and blush between runaway heartbeats and intense dizziness in the stomach was no one else or anyone less than his best and only friend.

Michael...

Michael Mell was the only person in the establishment who knew about his existence but didn't see it as a nuisance, it was his most trusted best friend. He and Jeremy had known each other for twelve years when they went to kindergarten and in their solitary recreation on the swings, the dark-skinned boy approached him to start a conversation and liven up his day. From that moment they were best friends for life.

Oh, Michael Mell... It was because of him that high school wasn't a hell in its entirety. Jeremy could always count on him for whatever he needed, he was always there for him, giving him good advice, encouraging him, and never judging him for anything. No, Jeremy at his side felt comfortable, safe, totally open like a book. He had the freedom to be himself, with flaws and everything, and even so, Michael was accepting him with open arms.

Yes, of course, one will think that he only likes him because being friends Michael was the only human being who didn't saw him as an embarrassment, but the truth is that it wasn't so like that either.

He knew him too well, and Michael was a great person. He was lively, funny, entertaining, even sweet and kind. He didn't treat him like the other boys in his school did between them, there was no rudeness or they pressed each other to see who was more man. If Jeremy was sad Michael wouldn't offer to go out to get drunk or get free sex, he would hug him but let him cry on his shoulder without saying "That's fag" and he would do whatever it takes to cheer him up. If Jeremy was sick he would visit him and prevent him from feeling bored, if they got into trouble they would sink together like a team.

Michael...

Michael was the person he could always trust, it didn't matter if he had to face the whole school or make a fool of himself, Jeremy could count on him being at his side.

What does he get with lying? Young Mell was attractive. Maybe many wouldn't consider it that way, but he didn't give a damn while there was no competition. If Jeremy says he's attractive, it's because he's attractive. Michael wasn't responsible and the protagonist of his indecent dreams just because yes.

He was naturally dark-skinned, with dark eyes, brown hair tossed back and disorderly and features somewhat curved. Maybe he was a little shorter than him, that he wore glasses or maybe, at first sight, he looked like a little overweight –Jeremy always told himself that he was only robust because he had seen it on his own on many occasions that he walked without his sweatshirt–but those details didn't make him any less cute.

Michael...

Michael was completely different from him in some ways. For Jeremy was paler, on the other hand, full of freckles on his face and other parts of his body, he had light blue eyes, wavy and brown-blond hair, he was skinny even for his height, and to top it off... While he had a list of humiliations and the paranoia of everyone judging him every moment, Michael walked casually down the hall with his headphones on as if no one else existed, totally ignorant and disinterested if they looked at him. Jeremy wanted to be like him.

Michael...

The moment Jeremy could see him go to his class his heart jumped and the world ran in slow motion. Jeremy could no longer concentrate on anything else, only on Michael Mell and the way he hummed softly whatever song he was listening to while staring straight ahead.

Normally, anyone who sees their lifelong friend pass nearby, they greet him instantly, but in this case, Jeremy sometimes preferred to take advantage of those moments when Michael didn't know he was present to watch him completely idiotic as he sighed his name under his breath.

Michael Mell...

Yes, it sounded weird to not agree to sign up for theater registrations because he didn't want to be called gay while internally melting when he saw his best friend pass, but in his defense; the idea is that they don't call him gay because many take it as a joke and no, it wasn't funny at all, besides he wasn't gay. He was bisexual! Something totally different for any LGBT defender that you can find.

Well, to the point. Jeremy Heere was disconnected from the world while looking at his crush, he was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't realize that by continuing to look at him he walked backward, sighing his name again.

"Michael Mell..."

"Excuse me?"

The female voice calling him got his feets back on the ground so abruptly that he could have broken into millions of pieces during the fall.

When he turned around he found Christine Canigula watching him with curiosity and he almost had a heart attack when he asked himself if she had seen him behave like a stupid stereotyped schoolgirl.

Christine was short, with short black hair set with buckles, dark eyes and Asian features. She wasn't popular, rather she was a normal girl in the good sense of the word, she didn't stand out that much but she was known and nice to others, including him who had seen her perform in many school plays and admired her for her commitment to it. She was pretty, maybe not exuberant, but she had adorable beauty.

Know this, you guys. That the person you admire sees you making a fool of yourself makes you want the earth to swallow you, but the earth wouldn't be in Jeremy's favor so he just prayed for his salvation while muttering nervously.

"Yeah?"

"I think someone wrote "BOYF" on your backpack?" It was the only thing she said, relieving him a little and at the same time startling him as much as to try to prove it.

"I... Uh." Sure enough, in the front pocket of his backpack was written with a black marker and in capital letters the word "BOYF" The person in charge of that trick of bad taste who was? Of course, the stupid Rich. He wanted to say something to excuse himself and his behavior a few seconds ago, but Christine's stunned look only made him even more nervous until he reached his limit and fled down the hall to his classroom.

Once in class, he completely ignored every word of his boring teacher, just like the rest. But unlike them he didn't do it because he was more interested in using the cell phone or whispering with a partner, he was reviewing everything bad that had happened that same day while scribbling on a blank page.

Could it be that he couldn't be invisible for once? Was it so hard for the world to stop making his life in high school so disastrous? He didn't ask to be a hero or some shit like that, or like Rob DeNiro, he just wanted to be like... Like Christine, someone normal who doesn't stand out that much but who still doesn't get teased or ignored, someone like Joe Pesci, maybe.

He didn't want to be like the popular ones and have a tight schedule, girls at his disposal or muscles and zero brains like the "cool" guys. He didn't want to be special for the rest of the people in the school, just... Something more than just survive.

He sighed trying to dispel the bad thoughts as he glanced at what had been scribbling, a heart crossed by an arrow with the initials J and M joined with the positive sign, the occasional caricature of Michael surrounded by hearts. Heere didn't tend to show much, but you could call him a sentimental or a faithful lover.

Maybe nobody was going to consider him a winner or someone to admire, but that didn't matter, enduring all those humiliations didn't matter, having a father who didn't attend him didn't matter, writing a tick every day didn't matter. Why? Because he had Michael Mell, his support, his favorite person, his player number one, his everything. Michael was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that drove him to go to jail for students, the reason why he felt so bad when the rest saw him as an insignificant and pathetic geek.

He just... He was a coward, you didn't have to have the common sense to realize it. He didn't have the balls to tell Michael what he liked him, and he was surprised they had not disappeared because he was so scared. He had planned to declare his love on more than one occasion, but no matter how much he planned or what, from letters, exits, cloying monologues, and even gifts, all that went to waste when the key moment appeared.

He was determined to make his masterful move and seconds later when young Mell's eyes crossed with his own, all his will fell to the ground, inventing some excuse and ending up like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The same things always crossed his mind when that happened, among them the terrifying idea of losing their valuable friendship and the unique and excellent relationship between the two. He was afraid that Michael would look at him with discomfort or disgust if he did. And it had nothing to do with being two guys, as it happened that Michael was the adopted son of a lesbian couple so he had grown up seeing that kind of thing as normal.

It was something different, it was... Something that was related to being Jeremy Heere, the failure of the high school.

But he was sure of something, it didn't matter if in the future Michael invited him to his wedding with the beautiful and sweet girl that someone as wonderful as he deserved, he would be there... Smiling and supporting him as he always did... And why not? Dying virgin for being so him.

Oh, fuck off. I've already imagined the future in ten years when I don't know what I'll do over the weekend.

He had his advantage with being friends twelve years ago, and he knew how to act perfectly naturally as he always did, even with his feelings surfacing. And not only that, he could receive a hug, a caress on the cheek, sleep with him in the same bed, spend hours at his side, until he saw him come out of the shower, and it wasn't strange at all. He could be close to him without suspicion.

After ringing the doorbell, Jeremy left his last class in the morning as soon as he was finished, looking sideways at his teacher who indicated which pages of the book to read for next week. It was already lunch time and that meant getting back to glances, but strangely that was less annoying than the bus or the hallway. While everyone was aware of their food or catching up with their friends at different tables their ass would be safe.

He hurriedly took his lunch, thanking for arriving when the line wasn't so long and choosing an empty table near the wall and away from the crowd. From there he could eat and watch everyone gathering in groups; popular, nerds, intermediates, etc. No matter what group or status, they talked to each other animatedly, laughed, looked happy. He envied them for it, he was sure they would all be pretty well alone at lunch, not like him, waiting impatiently for Michael to show up.

For his luck, he didn't have to wait as long as he believed. About five or ten minutes later Michael appeared with a red slushie, his white headphones, and wearing his characteristic red sweatshirt full of patches that he had accumulated over the years. For the products he brought, he supposed that Michael had left school early and escaped for a few minutes at 7/11.

"Michael!"

The guy aforementioned was quick to respond to the call with a smile, walking at a faster pace towards Jeremy, who had risen from his seat with intentions to say hello. Michael looked cheerful and euphoric, with a radiant smile and a flashing look, just what Jeremy needed for that day to improve.

Act natural, Jeremy. Act natural and... JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO CUTE, MICHAEL?!

"Jeremy, my buddy, how's it hanging? Lunch is banging! Had my sushi, got my slushy and more!" Jeremy suppressed a giggle, it was incredibly adorable when Michael brought his helmets to the music because he used to dance improvisately without caring for attention and finding a way to get his phrases into the melody. Once they were close, they both continued to make their special greeting of best friends, perhaps it was something very used, but it was a noble custom. "The roll was negimaki and I'm feeling pretty cocky cuz the girl at sev elev gave me a generous pour!"

"You're listening to Bob Marley again, aren't you?" He smiled sideways without expecting that Michael would give him a shout in his ear, but then he hugged him on the shoulder. A few decibels more and he would have been deaf but as you know, your crush is always forgiven, much more when that crush is a cinnamon roll like Michael.

"OH! I'm listening to Marley, and the groove is hella gnarly and we're almost at the end of the song!"

The young Heere let himself be carried to the seats, smiling like a fool while, oblivious to everything, Mell kept moving with the music, until finally they sat down and he lowered his helmets.

"Yeah, that was the end! Now tell me, friend. How was class? You look like ass! What's wrong?"

Normally he would smile, yes, that Michael was the light in the darkness of his life and all the emo and gothic shit that came to mind, but nothing erased the fact that that question reminded him of all the bad things that happened that day, starting with the silly trick that made the admired Christine Canigula call her attention in the corridor.

He reluctantly lifted his backpack, placing it on the table for Michael to observe.

"BOYF", what does that even mean?"

Jeremy mumbled between annoyed and confused. Would understand if Rich wrote something like "Asshole", "Tall-ass" or "Sissy" in his backpack But what the hell was this? Had Rich run out of ideas to annoy him? He wanted to believe that he did, but from Michael's eyes, he assumed that he was processing something while he looked at his own backpack and finally arranged it next to him.

At first, he didn't understand until he read that in Michael's backpack they had written "RIENDS", revealing the true message.

Boyf...riends... Boyfriends?! Like... Lovers?! THAT "BOYFRIENDS"?!

He only glanced at Michael to see what his reaction was, but he just smiled nervously raising his shoulders with a slight blush. And Jeremy? Well, a little more and the red of his face made his freckles disappear from the face of the earth.

"I hate this school." He mumbled under his breath, receiving a pat on the back as he drank his boxed juice to at least cool inside.

Rich was becoming cleverer every day with the mockery. A part of him felt eager that this was real, in fact now he was excited by the idea of ​​walking hand in hand with young Mell while their backpacks were gathered behind and made it clear that they were much more than friends, and on the other hand he panicked just thinking... Was he really obvious? Did anyone notice it? Has anyone seen him look a lot at Michael? And what if they already knew all and planned to reveal it? Could Michael teach him to be calmer with that instead of over-analyzing that nonsense so much?

He took a breath trying to forget the subject and all his paranoia around him. He had to remember that Rich was one of those braggarts who doesn't notice you if it's not to fuck your life, it would be impossible for him to deduce his feelings for Michael.

Oh, and talking about Michael. Today began his daily routine with him to send hints with the marksmanship of a one-armed, blind man, who has a short time before the dynamite cartridge attached to the arrow explodes, which to top it off is pointing to the wrong target... A target to his back.

"Hey! I wrote a letter with all my feelings."

"A letter to Christine?"

Did you see that? It was the indirect arrow of Jeremy exploding meters from the target.

But he had to admit that it was his fault. A long time ago, maybe two or more years ago, Jeremy tried to confess using the method of speaking in the third person. One thing came to the other, Michael never guessed, Jeremy never agreed to tell him directly, and when they attended a school play days later and the young Heere was amazed by the performance of Christine... Michael quickly assumed that she was the girl from whom he was in love.

He could have denied it, it's true, but he didn't have the courage to do it knowing that then he would have to be honest. Michael was so excited for him that time... He didn't think that telling him would have been a good idea.

Christine was very beautiful at her judgment, many said she was adorable and sweet. But for his part, he couldn't feel more than pure admiration and desire to get close just for friendship or some theater tips. He didn't really know her, so even if she attracted him, he couldn't say that I was totally in love.

He had already learned from a Disney princess that there was no need to marry strangers.

"O-Oh, yeah... To Christine."

"That's progress!"

"Yeah! And I tore it up and flushed it." Seeing Michael make a disillusioned gesture, he looked away with discomfort as his hand slipped into the pocket of his blue cardigan and squeezed the piece of paper that was saved from the fateful fate of ending up in the sewers. I wasn't lying this time. He supposed that a letter would be ideal if he didn't have the courage to tell Michael everything he felt in his face, but his cowardice showed once again that he put himself before everything and ended up repenting the night before.

He had only kept a piece that had Michael's name as a small reminder.

Could transform me into a mouse and there would be no difference in my behavior.

"That's still progress." He mumbled, to which his partner made a quick gesture of not giving it much importance.

Come on, Jeremy. You know about the letter to the right and the other way around, you can tell him now! You can give him a sign. Think about something!

"It's all good. I saw, on Discovery, that humanity has stopped evolving!"

Jeremy cocked his head, squinting. To be honest, it's not that he was surprised by that news, you just had to be aware of the world itself to draw the conclusion that the human race was fucked, but Michael said it in a way that made him think he was happy about it. And he was, that broad smile and excited brightness in his eyes couldn't be faked. So cute and unique... He even wanted to take his hand while talking.

Shit, Jeremy. Your friend explains something to you, stop losing yourself in your pink sea.

"That's good?"

"Evolution's survival of the fittest, right? But now, because of technology... You don't have to be strong to survive!"

The guy with the headphones wasn't even aware that while he lost his gaze in the nothingness giving his amazing new explanation, his friend nervously and stupidly approached his hand to his. Because Heere couldn't think of a better way to use the index finger and middle finger to a failed dissimulate, because Michael turned back to him causing him to abruptly withdraw his hand without even noticing.

Jeremy Heere, the best guy dissimulating and throwing indirect, gentlemen.

"Which means there's never been a better time in history to be a loser!"

Jeremy nodded, he had listened carefully to each word although it didn't seem so, and now that he was thinking about it, with his head resting on his hand and his elbow on the table while Michael was still talking about it as the greatest discovery of humanity, the focus on Jeremy's head was blinking until it turned on.

The reason why Jeremy wasn't yet declared to Michael was simple; he didn't feel great enough for him, so there was no high probability that he would correspond him. Jeremy had to get his attention in a different way, he wanted him to Michael admire him in something, that when he saw him he would think of "WOW" not only in "Jeremy, my sensitive friend who can not stand a single joke from his companions".

He had to do something so incredible that it would bring Michael's jaw to the ground, something that he was good. Video games didn't count in this, but some activity occurred to him in special that not only guaranteed him the glances of all, but also that of his friend.

"So own it! Why try to be cool when you can be—"

"Signing up for the play!"

He exclaimed suddenly, striking the table with the palms of his hand, so convinced of his idea that he didn't notice Michael raising an eyebrow with a strange expression.

"I was gonna say getting stoned in my basement."

"No! I mean... Look who's signing up this year in the play!"

He hastened to say, pointing in the distance to the young woman with dark hair approaching the poster with the intention of scoring. Jeremy felt saved. It may have been foolish of him to use Christine as an excuse, but Michael wouldn't believe "Maybe everyone thinks I'm more than a failed geek" because they already agreed that he would achieve the opposite.

It might sound very stupid and a poor strategy, but Jeremy had to analyze all the options carefully and consider the pros and cons. On the one hand it was possible that they made fun of him by signing up for such a gay activity, besides that he had not participated in school plays apart from when he was twelve years old and was a little afraid of confusing his lines or forgetting them, and he was even afraid of something similar to happen to the first time he signed up, but seeing the positive side he could spend time with the fantastic Christine Canigula and watch her work behind the scenes in what stood out so much, and of course... Michael...

"Oh, yes..." Without the young Heere noticing him for being in the clouds, Michael rolled his eyes, totally annoyed as he looked to where Canigula was located. "Christine."

"Yes, Christine..." But Jeremy was just thinking:

Michael... Michael Mell...

It was Jeremy's golden opportunity to impress Michael in a way he wouldn't forget. Totally perfect, right? He could already taste the moment when he bowed on the stage and he applauded him next to the audience. Then when the curtain closed I would see him in the locker room to talk, Michael would tell him how well he had acted, how passionate, fabulous and elegant he was, and Jeremy would nod "humbly". Then they would take each other's hands inevitably, they would be lost for eternal seconds in each other's eyes, their faces would come closer and then... Then...

Then...

"Jeremy? What are you doing?"

And then... He was kissing his sandwich.

"A-Ah... I just was..."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air, in which Michael continued to stare at him in astonishment, wondering if he was inventing a new way of eating or simply his friend had been smoking Mary Jane in the morning without him. Jeremy cursed how when he fantasized so much nonsense he lost his contact with reality and managed to take a bite of the sandwich to dissimulate.

He had to control himself, the next time he could kiss some moron who was near and couldn't get out of that biting his face.

"You are a little weird sometimes, dude" Mell commented with a funny smile, turning his gaze to the poster. "Will you sign up then? I thought you didn't want to get everyone's attention."

Jeremy was silent for a moment. "I-It doesn't matter." He smiled softly, getting up from his seat to address the inscription paper. "I don't care if people think I'm lame, Michael."

Michael...

He took a deep breath, analyzing the leaf with his eyes. So far only the name of Christine, Brooke, Jenna, and Chloe were there written, no other boy had signed. The pen, tied to a thread at the end to keep from the poster, trembled on his fingers.

I... One moment, would I really have to do this?

He went back to reviewing his options carefully. Is this convenient for him? Wouldn't Michael think the same as the others about him if he did?... But what was he thinking?

Maybe the homosexual images that went through his head won't come true soon, or maybe never because it was very Disney even for someone like him, but he still believed that he needed to take a big step before saying "I like you". He wouldn't be popular or recognized, but after that personal challenge, he would feel different. If he could act in front of the whole school, the girl she admired, and his crush, then maybe... And just maybe... He would feel less cowardly.

Thinking about it, he signed his name on the poster. It was just a few seconds since he separated the pen from the paper, just a few seconds and...

"The tall-ass joined the theater! HAH! GAAAAAAAAAAY!"

He turned quickly and there were Rich and the others dying of laughter as they pointed at him as if it were a circus phenomenon.

All... They all stared at him. Everyone was looking at him, those looks that make you want to disappear completely.

Jeremy just frowned, trying to feel deep disinterest for every mockery, but even if he himself had said a few minutes ago that he didn't really care what they would think of him... It was always easier said than done, and every laugh only made his hands tremble and his throats will close in a mute of inner desire to cry of frustration.

"I like gay people" It was the last thing he heard from them before they dissipated and they left him standing in front of the poster like a complete idiot, on the verge of leaving the dining room and fleeing to the bathrooms. He didn't need to break in front of everyone and act like a fag to give them more to laugh about.

Another one... To the list.

"Hey... Jeremy. Don't listen to them, okay?" Michael put his hand gently on her shoulder, worrying as he felt him tremble and try not to see his face. That was like a silent alarm for the young Mell, who didn't think twice before dragging his friend with him to the corridors, far away from the cafeteria and the people.

Heere didn't even bother to resist or crossword as soon as they were alone, because by then he had hugged Michael tightly, swallowing his tears in a desperate attempt to save some of her trampled dignity.

Michael didn't object to anything and returned the hug, patting his back and waiting for his to calm down.

Jeremy might not believe him, but far from thinking he was being an exaggerator to break himself for such foolishness, Michael was hating the whole school for having that cruel need to mock anything that others did.

It was that that made Jeremy Heere doubt about his actions, control his steps and words, wanting to become invisible. Because it didn't matter what he did to stand out in a good way or show that it was something more than a nobody or a joke, there would always be a mistake to point out, always something to laugh at. They would never be satisfied.

They would always cower him forever because surely something more awaited him just because he was breathing. They would always take away the trust and courage he was looking for.

Always...

They would always remind him that Jeremy would never be more than just himself.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
First chapter at last ~

I'm satisfied with the result. I did not want to do anything too long or too short, just as I wanted to make it look like the musical and you can imagine everything ~

As you may notice, I wanted to add certain things that I read in the first chapters of the original book, such as that Jeremy likes theater and has a list of his daily humiliations.

It was easy for me, I'm sure many of us have once felt like Jeremy being teenagers.

Please let me know if I missed any spelling or grammar mistakes. I'm getting help to translate this fic into English but we are not professionals with the language. I hope to get to translate the other chapters quickly, because in the Spanish version I've already reached "A guy that I'd kinda be into". I appreciate your patience.

I like to make animatics of the scenes of my fics, especially of this one, so in case you are interested I will leave you the one I made some time ago in this chapter:

https://youtu.be/qk_QICJ1eaY

I hope you liked how you are doing so far. Kisses.
Y gracias de nuevo a mi amiga HolyRabbit por su ayuda <3