A/N: He(e)re we are, half a month later. I'm trying to update more often, I swear! I'll work on it. Pinkie promise.

Jeremy's POV
"No, like...a do-over date!" I overhear Christine say excitedly from my spot behind my open locker.

"Oh! That sounds awesome!" Rich responds, finally understanding.

I peer through the slits, trying to comprehend their whispers.

"Hey, Jer!" My boyfriend shouts from behind me, startling me and causing me to fall forward.

I hit my head lightly on the metal, tumble downwards, and land on the ground. Rich and Christine stare at me, and Christine rolls her eyes.

"Really, Jer? Eavesdropping?"

Sheepishly, I gather my things with Michael's help. We both grab the same book, and stand up. Holding onto the cover, my eyes wander to Michael's. Overwhelmed by the moment, I begin to lean in for a quick kiss. My eyelids are almost shut when I spot Madeline over Michael's shoulder.

I pull back quickly, causing Michael to drop the book. Madeline passes by, clearly not paying any attention to us.

"What was that, Jeremy?" The boy standing across from me asks confusedly, awkwardly readjusting his hoodie.

"I...I saw Madeline, and I thought that if she saw us...you know...."

"Oh," Michael says, softening. "Gotcha."

A sad smile graces the boy's lips, and I can see that he understands.

"We have five minutes until first period," Christine reminds us, breaking the silence.

I zip up my backpack and take a deep breath. Off to English class with Michael.

"So, after school?" Rich asks.

"After school," Christine confirms confidently.

Even after listening to their whispers, I still have no idea what they're planning.

I quickly wave goodbye to Rich and Chris, rapidly heading down the hallway, Michael at my side. We dodge the students easily, just like the zombies in our favorite video game.

It's been a week, and I still haven't told anyone about my mom. Late at night, I can hear my dad crying softly in the room next to mine. It makes me cry too, sometimes. It's bad enough at home. Pity and awkward condolences at school are not what I need right now.

We reach Room 204 and head inside. Routinely and quietly, my boyfriend and I find our seats in the back corner, take out our notebooks, and direct our attention towards the front of the room. When I look up, however, I don't see the shiny bald head of Mr. Fagan, but a small, dark-skinned man, frantically fiddling with some papers.

He clears his throat and surveys the room, trying to break through the chaos of the class. The majority of the kids reluctantly settle down, other than a few talkative stragglers, who continue to laugh quietly.

"Uh, my name is Avery, and I'm your substitute teacher for the next few weeks. It's, uh...Mr. Kumar to you. I'll be here until the school can find a new teacher. Unfortunately, your old teacher...uh, Mr. Fagan has left for a teaching job in California," he mumbles, nervousness creeping into his voice.

The class groans in disappointment. I agree with them; Mr. Fagan was a great teacher, and an even better guy.

I refocus on Mr. Kumar, who pulls out a clipboard and begins to take attendance.

"Borle."

"Here."

"Canonico."

"Here."

"Diggs."

"Here."

I begin to zone out, until I hear him call 'Groff'. I know I'm next.

But Mr. Kumar pauses before he says my name, breaking the rhythm of the back and forth.

"I..." he mutters, seemingly shocked. "Heere." He whispers, barely audible over the class' yawning.

"Uh, present," I reply, confused.

The substitute looks up from his paper, and his eyes go directly me. His expression changes from shock to what seems to be...awe.

"Is...your father's name Paul?" He asks hesitantly.

"Wh-...yes. My dad's name is Paul...Uh, how-"

"See me after class," Mr. Kumar interrupts, a wistful half smile on his face.

He looks down at his paper and shakes his head, as if he's unable to comprehend what's happening.

"Hsu."

"Here."

"Jackson."

"Here."

The class makes its way through attendance without another incident. Michael looks at me a few times, and I look back. He's equally bewildered.

"Okay!" Mr. Kumar announces with a new energy. "I want to gauge where you all are at in your studies. And what better way then a review!"

The class doesn't respond, and the man in the front of the room looks slightly disappointed. Clearly it wasn't the response he was going for.

"With Kahoot!" He shouts, trying to regain our attention.

We erupt into cheers, and Mr. Kumar laughs.

"Never gets old," he chuckles. "Get into partners and take out your phones! The code is on the board."

Michael's POV

I slide my desk over to Jeremy's, staying seated. Jeremy and I are solid students, but when Kahoot comes around...we're basically gods.

"I want your real names!" Mr. Kumar shouts, and is met with a collective groan.

I check the board, and I read "Michelangelo and Jeremiah".

"Very funny, Jeremy," I say sarcastically to the boy next to me, a smile finding its way to my lips.

"Wait...your name isn't really Michelangelo?" He jokes, gasping with fake shock.

"And your name isn't really Hot-as-Hell-Heere?" I quip, trying to keep a straight face.

"Shhhh," he responds, bringing his voice to a whisper, "They don't need to know my real name."

"You're so dumb," I laugh, ruffling his hair.

He blushes, and I put my hand on his knee under the desks. This only makes his face redder.

The blush fades, though, when the first question appears. It's game time.

"They question's will start easy and get harder!" Mr. Kumar yells. He may be small, but damn, he is loud.

The first question appears on the screen. 'Name the type of figurative language used: The wind whistled as he walked by.'

"Personification," I whisper to Jer, who nods and positions his fingers over the screen, poised to attack.

—Time skip brought to you by Lin Manuel Miranda and Billy Porter being at the opening night of BMC—

"Let's go!" I shout, when the leaderboard finally pops up. "First place!"

Jeremy and I high five excitedly.

"Yeah!" He cheers.

"Good job, everyone! I'm impressed. The bell is about to ring, so why don't you all pack up! See you next class."

And as if on cue, the sound of the bell echoes through the room. The chatter increases as everyone makes their way to the door.

"Wait! Er, Jeremy," Mr. Kumar says as we pass by his desk.

The teacher looks around. Most of the students have left the classroom, leaving only Jeremy and me. Mr. Kumar looks directly at me, as if waiting for me to leave.

"I..." I start, "Should I go?"

"Uh, that's probably for the best, yeah," the man answers.

Jeremy's POV

Once Michael has left and closed the door behind him, Mr. Kumar speaks up.

"Do you know who I am?" He asks timidly, to which I shake my head. I've never seen him before.

"Figures. Your dad always liked to keep secrets," he smiles secretly, as if recalling some memory.

"I'm sorry...I...don't understand," I reply slowly.

"You know what? Why don't you tell your dad that Avery says hi," he says, changing the subject.

He pauses, studying me. "I can't believe....wow. You have his eyes, you know," he observes softly.

"I...yeah. I do, I guess. Can...I go now?"

"Yes, of course!" He brightens, his enthusiastic demeanor returning.

"I...okay," I reply, shaking my head in confusion as I leave the room.

Glancing backward one last time, I shut the door.

"What was that all about?" Michael asks immediately as I step out into the hallway.

"He...knew my dad, I think?"

"Oh, okay," Michael responds, disappointed.

"Why, what were you thinking?"

Michael turns his head slightly to the side in thought. "Uh, maybe that he was some secret agent, who worked with your dad, who was also a secret agent?"

"Michael," I ask, giggling, "did you watch Spy Kids again?"

"What? No, never. Spy Kids is for babies. I'm not a baby," he answers, suppressing a smile.

"Aw, but you're my baby," I respond, putting my arm around his waist.

Twirling out of my arms, Michael grabs my hand and chuckles. "That's gay, Jer Bear. And so what if Spy Kids is the third greatest movie series of all time?"

"It's definitely not."

But before I can ask him what movies take first and second place, the hallways begin to crowd. As more and more kids join the migration, I feel them all looking at us. I quickly release Michael's hand.

We walk in silence.

On the way to our lockers, Michael says, "We can't do this forever, you know. I'll wait for as long as you need, but we've got to come out sometime."

"I..I know."

We've only been together a little over a week, and I'm far from ready to face everyone. Every time I think about coming out, to anyone—no matter how accepting they are—I get so nervous that I can barely breathe. But with Michael by my side, I feel a little less vulnerable. I know I'll be able to do it. Just....not yet. It all feels like it's moving so quickly.

Sensing my worry, Michael takes a hand and places it comfortingly on my shoulder.

"Hey," he says, "it'll be alright, okay? We'll get through this."

I nod, and he brings me into a hug. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax for a second.

"Gayyy," someone whispers into my ear, their breath puffing against my neck in suppressed bursts of laughter.

"I..what?" I try to defend, turning around.

Oh. It's Rich.

"Piss off," Michael grins.

Rich gives us finger guns, and flashes a toothy grin.

"See you later, bros! I got business to attend to. With Jake. In the bathroom."

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh my God, that's gross!" Michael shouts as he walks away.

Rich only looks back and smirks, sashaying dramatically as he makes his way into the bathroom. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get out the mental picture that Rich had formed in my brain.

"See you after school!" He shouts over the crowd.

Word Count: 1736

A/N: I didn't really know how to end this chapter, lol. Also, thank you to my friend Ryan, who kept showing me Hamilton memes as I tried to write.

You guys are all so amazing. And so witty and funny. Your comments are a joy to read. X'D

(P.S. I couldn't remember who, but I promised someone a dirty joke. That Rich thing was for you, lmao. And someone wanted a 'brought to you by' time skip, because they said they made themsmile. That was for you. ^0^)