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On this particular Friday night, Jeremy could be caught on his bed, softly kissing his best friend. Boyfriend? It was all very confusing.

Michael's fingers delicately ran through his hair, and he responded by scooting closer, but the kiss did not deepen.

This continued for about another minute before they broke apart, just as gently as they had been kissing. Their eyes met momentarily before they cuddled close, pulled up some blankets, and proceeded to watch Parks & Rec on Netflix on Michael's phone. They laughed and made fun of the characters, sniggering and elbowing each other in a very non-romantic way. However, they did eventually fall asleep together there.

See, the problem was, neither of them had a clue what was going on in their relationship. Was it platonic? Or romantic? Jeremy frequently found himself going from kissing Michael's neck on Saturday morning to walking downtown together in the afternoon, talking about who they'd been crushing on lately and making “no homo” jokes. It also wasn't uncommon for him to catch himself daydreaming about Michael, usually when he was bored in class. Sneaking out of school with him, dropping by 7/11 for snacks and slushies, going on a drive through the rural outskirts of town, stopping at the river, dangling their bare feet in the water, talking, laughing, kissing— wait. What?

No, Jeremy was definitely... Actually, uh, scratch that. Nothing in his life was “definite” right now. He had no idea where he was going after high school; his best friend of 14 years was also kind of his boyfriend, and neither of them wanted to dive into that can of worms; he had been studying for the SATs, but hell if he felt at all prepared for them; his dad had been pushing him to reconnect with his mom, who could apparently help him with the whole “being actually sure about your major and picking a college” thing, but Jeremy was extremely reluctant to let her back into his life; all of his friends were going in different directions after graduation and he was terrified they would drift apart... Those were just a few of his worries.

So no, nothing was definite.

Except the fact that he enjoyed kissing Michael.

That was definite.

God, he was so fucked.