A.N. – I seem to be on a drabble kick lately, though this one clocks in at over 1,000 words.  This one was all started by a quote a while back from Carth that went something along the lines of, “I always thought Jeremie was a closet bi.”  So I ran with it.  Poor, confused Jeremie.  Anyway, a disclaimer:  I do not own Code Lyoko, nor do I profit monetarily from this little fic.  Also, the title of this fic comes from a Bloc Party song (which I couldn’t get out of my head while writing this); I do not own that, either.

Like Eating Glass


Jeremie awoke one morning not quite feeling like the boy genius he was widely considered to be around campus. His brain was not yet working at full steam, and the pre-eminent thought in his still sleep-fogged mind was, 'I’m lucky to have a single room.'

He felt pity he felt for Odd and Ulrich and their having to share a dorm room. ‘What made him so special as to have his own room?’ he drowsily wondered. After all, if they cohabitate with each other, why shouldn't he have to go through the same experience?

Of course, the same thing could be said of Aelita as well, but she had a good reason for having her own room — she had arrived later in the term than the other students, and so she took what was available. Jeremie, however, could come up with no such reason that morning. None that he would admit publicly, anyway.

This reason, he mused, was something he had trouble admitting even to himself.

Lying under the covers of his bed (far preferable to a keyboard-imprinted face), the sunbeams streamed through the drawn curtains and played across his pensive face. He didn't really feel like getting up, but if he wanted breakfast, he had to at least be presentable to go down to the cafeteria. For the moment, he burrowed deeper - into the bedding, and into his unsettled thoughts.

One day, long in the future, maybe then he'd give everyone an answer. When he himself had a good grasp of that answer and all its repercussions. But right now, there were only the vaguest forms of ideas, none concrete enough to support much of anything. And that was the problem.

Jeremie had, at the start of the last term, put in a request for a single room. He'd put down "office space" as his reason on the form he'd handed to the secretary, but that'd been a lie. But it hadn't been, not really, at the time. But in hindsight, Jeremie had been correct to choose his accommodations the way he did. He willingly isolated himself when social interaction was not necessary. He wanted to this morning as well, but knew he couldn’t. Jeremie shoved his hesitance (and his covers) aside and rose to greet the new day.

There weren't very many people up this early, Jeremie noted as he walked down the hall. This was his preferred situation - there was less hassle in the bathroom that way. There was no line when he reached the facilities, and upon opening the door, he only heard the hiss of one showerhead. Sighing to himself, he set his bag down on the nearest sink and got out his toothbrush. He was just about to squirt some paste on it when he heard some soggy footsteps behind him.

"Hey Einstein, how you doing this morning?"

Jeremie looked up into the mirror and saw Odd, a purple towel circling his waist and his trademark hair falling gently down his back. He pushed down on the toothpaste tube a bit too hard, and made a mess on the sink. Odd trotted over to the sink next to Jeremie's, mindful of the goo slowly sliding to the already-damp floor.

All thoughts of brushing his teeth forgotten, Jeremie turned around to beat a hasty retreat to the showers now that Odd was finished. If Odd was up as early as he was, that could only portend a nuisance in his future. Jeremie hurriedly brushed by Odd, who looked ready to say something more, but as Jeremie passed by Odd's mouth stopped moving. There was a sodden plop as something hit the floor.

Thinking he had dropped his shampoo, and wondering why Odd had cut himself off mid-sentence, Jeremie pivoted around. One look back at Odd answered his question. Jeremie stood quite still, not sure what to do. The polite thing would've been to pick up the towel that lay at Odd's feet and hand it to him, but Jeremie really wasn't sure he could do that at the moment.

Odd wasn't exactly acting modest, either. He had leaned against the sink and had an eyebrow quirked, taking it all in stride. He made no motions to retrieve his fallen towel. Jeremie felt his face heat up, while Odd’s eyes looked like they shone with silent laughter. He felt it'd be easier to take if Odd were angry with him, if Odd were the one feeling embarrassed. But instead Odd was taking this little slip like it was, at best, a source of amusement.

Jeremie snapped himself out of his reverie and managed to incline his head slightly in an apologetic bow before scrambling off to the steamy shelter of the shower block. He stripped quickly and turned the water on, drawing the shower curtain tightly behind him as he stepped in. He let the near-scalding water pound his head; it did not erase his thoughts, nor ease the tension he felt. He looked down, ashamed at what he saw.

Odd's voice suddenly sounded from the other side of the curtain. "See you at breakfast, Jeremie?"

"Yeah, sure," was Jeremie's less-than-enthusiastic reply, a definite contrast to Odd's tone. Jeremie shivered despite the temperature of the water. Resignedly, he grabbed his shampoo and soaped himself up.

He stepped out of the bathroom 10 minutes later, clean but not feeling so. He went back to his room in a rush, anxious to retreat to a place of comfort — the communal bathroom was decidedly not in that category. Jeremie threw on his clothes hurriedly and glanced at the clock, his stomach rumbling. As much as he was not looking forward to it, he needed to get down to breakfast. Without so much as running a comb through his hair, he exited his room.

Aelita was waiting outside. She had just woken up, if the knee-length pink T-shirt with the 'A' on it was any indication. Jeremie felt his mouth slacken as he eyed her. Odd and the bathroom incident suddenly faded to the periphery, replaced with visions of the girl standing before him, looking cheery.

"Morning, Jeremie," Aelita said. "Glad you’re up. I'll catch you at breakfast." She favored Jeremie with a wide smile, then turned and made her way back to the stairs to the girls floor. He couldn't help but watch the hem of her shirt sway as she ascended the stairs. It was not quite the show Odd had inadvertently given him, but it was alluring just the same. Jeremie swallowed thickly.

Deep down, he felt he at least strongly liked Aelita. She was hard not to like. She had looks, a great personality, and could even outdo him in the academic arena at times. So why, then, did he react to Odd almost exactly the same not half an hour ago? He liked him as a friend, sure, but going on the morning’s events, why didn’t Ulrich and Yumi and even William make him feel all tingly and disoriented inside?

Jeremie leaned against his doorway, lost in thought. Images went pell-mell through his head - Ulrich coming off the pitch after a soccer match, Yumi dressed up for a school dance, William the first time he saw him - and they all swam together, blurred. Jeremie suddenly didn't feel so hungry anymore; it felt like his stomach was tied in knots and had dropped out of his torso entirely.

He took a few shallow breaths, trying to compose himself. Was it this way every day and he just hadn't taken the time to notice up till now, or were the events of the morning a catalyst to a higher understanding that somehow only led to confusion? He slumped further into his doorframe. No, breakfast definitely wasn't an option anymore, Jeremie mused. Not today, at least. The food, the conversation, the company - it'd all be too much like eating glass.