If anyone knew Jeremiah Fisher, they knew him enough to say he wasn’t one to settle down.

He was a wild card; desperately trying to find a connection everywhere he went, never wanting to stop and calm down with one specific person, simply because he didn’t know how long that would last and after a while, he would get bored. He was afraid he would get bored of someone loving him enough to keep him around and that made him have a new boy in his bed every week.

That was just how he was. Jeremiah was handcrafted that way. Crafted by a God that wanted to torment him for having some type of inconsolable hunger inside of him that constantly craved more than he was being given.

It wasn’t something he would wish on anyone, and after a while, the new boy every single week had gotten tiring. Especially when he entered college, because after spending his high school years finding something new, searching for something to satiate the pit inside of him, he came to a realization — he was not able to keep the pit full, and no boy would fix that.

Or so he thought.

He met you. At first, he thought it was the same thing; meet, become close, get shit-faced drunk at a party one night, have a big cloud hang over his eyes that blocked everything he did for a few hours, and then wake up in your bed. That’s what he expected. Nothing more, nothing less.

But you didn’t want him for that. No, in fact, you wanted everything he had to offer, and he didn’t know how to accept the fact that someone loved him for him and not his body or how he was the most desired boy in every class. You just wanted him, flesh and all, the pit and all, and he soon realized that dating you, had so kindly filled the hole inside of him right the fuck up.

Like it never existed.

So, here he was, his fingertips brushing over the fabric of his button up, fixing and smoothing it out after lounging in your awfully comfortable bed for the past hour to relax once you two were finished with . . things, running a hand through his bed-ridden curls, watching as you sat up, telling him he should probably get ready and leave and —

“You know, from what I remember,” he started, leaning his head a touch closer to yours, “you were the one who called me to take care of business.” The corners of his lips curled upwards.