Jeremy's POV

Michael. This is the boy I've been best friends with since second grade. This is the boy I know better than I know my family. This is the boy that loves me back.

Michael and I recently became an item, even if my father doesn't completely agree with it. Dad's getting used to it though. He's really trying.

Michael and I can often be found sitting on the couch watching Netflix. We aren't like those couples that go out to dinner every weekend. Our anxiety keeps us from doing that. We'd much rather prefer staying inside and watching movies while my dad yells at us for changing his channel until we move to Michael's house. Tonight is one of those nights.

We're both skipping down the sidewalk—Michael going backwards in front of me—and laughing at how stupid we probably look. We don't care though. Michael's face is bright with joy. He's having fun and that's all that matters.

We quickly approach his house, but not before Michael skips backwards into a telephone pole. I double over in laughter as his hisses in pain and grabs his head and back.

"You, sir, are a jerk Mr. Heere," he mumbles.

"You, sir, are adorable Mr. Mell," I reply after skipping up to him. I lean down and peck him on the cheek. He pouts at me nonetheless and grabs my hand. I pull him up and drag him the rest of they way to his house.

We push Michael's moms off the couch and plop on it. (It's a headcannon that Michael had two moms. Deal with it.) They look slightly made but soften their glares when I cuddle up to Michael.

After a few hours, we begin to drift off. I take in Michael's warmth graciously. Said boy that Im stealing warmth from leans down and pecks my lips. I'm slow to return it in my tired state.

"Love you Jere-Bear."

"Love you too WaterMellon."

He chuckles at the random nickname I came up with off the top of my head before pulling the blanket on the back of the couch around us. After a short while, we both fall into a peaceful slumber.

Like Two Hours Later? I don't know, I just work here.

I'm awoken by the absence of heat. Michael moved. Rude. Then it dawns on me. Michael's a somnambulist. I sit up and frown at the empty space next to me. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I get up and begin wandering the house looking for Michael. It takes me a while to find him after looking in both the bathrooms, the kitchen, the upstairs bedrooms, the dining room, and the backyard. Turns out, he was in the basement the whole time. How'd he get down the stairs? I push the thought aside and rush over to him. I gently begin moving him to the couch down here, careful not to wake him. What's that myth about waking a sleep walker? He could have a stroke or heart attack or something? Whatever, I'm not taking any chances.

Once he's finally safe and secure on the couch in a comfortable looking position, I plop down next to him. I snuggle into him, stealing his warmth once again as i wrap the blanket around us. By now it must be an instinct to wrap his arm around me when I snuggle into him because almost instantly his arm draps over my shoulders. I smile and hum to myself as I fall back to sleep.

Word Count: 591

A/n

Short, I know but it was sweet right? I think it was sweet. Anyway, I HAVE AN ART BOOK IF YOU WANT TO SEE MY SCRIBBLES. Okay I'm done yelling now.

Somnambulist-a person that walks about in his or her sleep