Chapter Text
He doesn’t remember what day it was when he first noticed Michael Mell.
He doesn’t remember the date, or the time, or what class, or what period. He knows it was in school, that much he knows, but he honestly can’t remember anything except how Michael looked that day. How Michael made him feel.
He knows it was around the same time he got his SQUIP. He remembers it’s cold voice directing his every move. Stand straight, Richard, sit up, Richard, calm down, Richard, Richard, Richard.
And then someone laughed, and that was enough to draw his attention away from the commanding voice in his head. Which sounds odd, but it’s true. Rich doubts it would’ve happened for any other laugh but, well – Michael’s was special. It was like sunshine and honey and all that Shakespeare crap that never made sense to him until then.
His gaze flicked over the class until it finally landed on him. Rich knew him, but he didn’t know him. They weren’t friends. They’d shared a few nods and smiles as fellow losers, but Rich doubted he recognised him now. Rich recognised him, though. How could he not, with that bright red hoodie, covered in cheap iron-patches, that he wore every single day? He always had headphones on, either slung around his neck or secured on his head, constantly blasting a heavy stream of music – reggae, maybe? It sounded like reggae. He seemed like a reggae person.
And that other boy – he was always with that other boy – Jared? – like they were joined at the hip or something. He was with him then, talking animatedly about something, Rich can’t remember what – he only remembers what Michael looked like. An easy smile on his face, eyes shining, hands waving and gesturing like a cartoon, dimples – jesus christ, those fucking dimples, what the hell? – and although Rich couldn’t remember what he was saying, he knows he would sometimes stumble over his words, having to backtrack and repeat himself sometimes because of how excited he was.
And then he remembers the burn like lightning up his spine, his brain freezing and prickling as the SQUIP growls ‘absolutely not’ in his ear, and Rich quickly looks away because no, that’s not allowed, sure, Michael’s objectively pretty but he’s not pretty like pretty pretty, because Rich doesn’t find guys pretty, that’s not allowed.
But maybe he could talk to him-
No.
Just once, maybe he could get a SQUIP too-
Not at all.
Maybe they could be friends, they could talk, he could see that smile again-
Do you really think he’d choose you?
And then Rich looks again, sees how Michael stares at that other boy – Jason? – like he hung the goddamn stars, like he’s the sun and Michael’s a planet orbiting him, and Rich is barely even in their solar system, just a lonely meteorite floating around on the outside.
Well, he doesn’t care. They’re nerds, losers. He’s not like that anymore, he’s bigger, better. That other guy – Jeremy! - could be Michael’s sun if that’s what they wanted – they could have their own system, their own universe, and Rich would have his own and they’d just stay like that, a million lightyears away from each other.
He definitely doesn’t wish someone would look at him like that.
He definitely doesn’t wonder what it would be like if that person was Michael.
oOo
He doesn’t stay away.
He can’t be with them. The SQUIP would never let him go back to the way he was. So he settles for yelling taunts in the corridors, making snide comments in the classrooms, shoving, snarling, intimidating. It’s a sort of compromise, between him and the SQUIP – this way he increases his status, but… He can also be near Michael. Not that he wants to be around Michael, not like that, Michael was just… Interesting. And although he keeps feeling pangs of guilt in his stomach, stings of regret in the back of his head, it’s worth it to catch a glimpse of that sunshine smile as Michael pulls Jeremy to his feet and tells him to brush it off, who cares what popular people think? They’re all dumb and elitist and probably won’t amount to anything after high school anyways.
Sometimes, Rich will find himself agreeing. Then the SQUIP shocks him, reminds him of what’s important, and he’ll float away from their system and back to his.
He’ll always look back, though – just in time to see Michael look at Jeremy in that special way, the way that shines so much that it lights up everything around him, even Rich’s dark little corner of the universe.
He tries to ignore the tightening in his chest, like vines wrapping around his lungs. It’s not important. The only thing that’s important is getting to the top, and leaving losers like Michael at the bottom.
oOo
The flowers come at around the end of junior year.
He’s walking with Jake – his parents are out of town (he won’t say why), and Rich would rather lick the floors of the school bathrooms than go back to his own home, so they’re going to Jake’s to get drunk and watch movies. Well – Jake will get drunk. Rich will pretend to sip his beer and then dump it into a plant pot when Jake isn’t looking. The SQUIP doesn’t like him getting drunk. They round a corner and then Jeremy and Michael are there, Jeremy talking about… something, Rich didn’t really care, and Michael hanging on his every word.
He looks so happy like that. In his own universe, quietly orbiting his sun, not a care in the world. Rich doesn’t want to ruin that for him. Not today. So he tenses his muscles and keeps his arms close to his sides, ignoring the SQUIP urging him to push him, punch him, put him in his place, and keeps on walking.
The corridor isn’t wide enough for four. As they walk past each other, Rich and Michael’s hands inevitably brush.
The touch spreads like fire, coursing up his veins, scratching at his skin, and then it settles in his lungs and it burns.
“Rich?”
He can’t breathe.
“Dude, are you okay?”
He can’t breathe and it burns.
“Rich, what’s wrong?! You’re freaking me out, man!”
Oh, he stopped walking. That happened. Oh, and now the SQUIP’s yelling at him to get a grip. That’s nice.
He’s going to be sick.
He looks back, again, despite the SQUIP screaming at him not to. He catches Michael’s eye – he’s looking at Rich with concern, like he actually cares, ha – and then he’s running to the bathrooms, lungs tight and painful and burning.
He flings open a stall, collapses over the toilet seat and heaves. His throat scratches and burns as he coughs up globs of spit and phlegm (ugh) but then something soft and wet catches in his throat. He gags, coughing it up into his palm. It’s a flower petal. It’s small and red and Rich doesn’t know enough about flowers to actually identify it, but he knows it’s supposed to be pretty.
Supposed to be.
“Rich? Dude, you just straight up bolted out there, you okay? Not sick, are ya, or-“
Jake suddenly stops talking and it’s about then that Rich realises he forgot to lock the stall door.
He whirls around, eyes wide and muscles tense like a caged animal. Jake gapes at him with concern, eyes zeroing in on the petal in his hand.
Finally, he whispers, “I’m so sorry.”
oOo
Hanaki Disease: A disease where a persons feelings of unrequited love causes them to sprout flowers in their lungs. These flowers will spread throughout the lungs and ribcage until the person suffocates and dies, unless their feelings are requited or they stop feeling love for the object of their affections. A Hanaki could also choose to have surgery to remove these flowers, but doing so would also remove the feeling of love as well.
That’s what the SQUIP tells him, anyways. It must’ve pulled it up from some half-assed Wikipedia page or something.
“Is that it?” Rich asks. The SQUIP shrugs.
It’s all I could find. There’s not much information on the disease itself.
“You’re a super computer, is that really all you can find?” Rich huffs. The SQUIPs eyes narrow.
Watch your tone, Richard.
Rich growls and bites his lip. So what if he’s a bit testy today, he’s literally dying because of his own stupid feelings, surely that gave him some kind of free pass to be a massive bitch!
The door opens and Rich quickly rearranges himself to look somewhat normal.
“Hey, man.” Jake smiles gently. “I got Sbarros! That always cheers me up!”
He makes it sound like Rich had just lost a sports game rather than found out he was being slowly suffocated by his unrequited whining.
“Not really in the mood for pizza, Jake.” Rich says shortly. He notices Jake flinch at the edge in his voice and that makes him feel like a huge fucking douche, because yeah, Jake can be a little oblivious sometimes, but he was literally a human puppy dog, and what kind of heartless monster would hurt a human puppy dog?
“Is, um…” Jake shuffles awkwardly. Jake’s never awkward. Jake is high school awesomeness personified, why would he be awkward? “Is there anything I can do?”
Rich shrugs.
“C’mon, man.” Jake sighs, taking a seat next to him. “You’re my best bro, I wanna help you!”
Rich shrugs again.
“Rich, come on.” Jake says firmly, grabbing his shoulder and forcing Rich to look at him. “You’re my best friend. Talk to me.”
Rich kind of wants to scream at him, because they’re not best friends, are they? Jake only knows the SQUIPed Rich Goranski, with the tousled hair and the creepy tank tops who seems to take joy in ruining peoples lives. He doesn’t know the real him, the gross, lispy Rich Goranski with the ugly snort laugh who had completed Pokemon Red, like, seven times on his crappy Nintendo DS Lite with the scratched up screen and the top half coming loose.
(the SQUIP had made him burn it with his Pokemon Red game cartridge inside. Rich’d cried a lot more than he was proud to admit over that)
“I’m dying, Jake.” He says after another few moments of silence. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Jake winces, staring at the floor helplessly. Rich knows that Jake hates being helpless.
“Can I, uh… Can I ask who it is? If you’re, uh – comfortable with that?”
He wants to. He wants to so fucking badly.
The SQUIP glares at him from beside the TV.
“… No.” Rich sighs. “Sorry, I just – I can’t-“
“It’s okay.” Jake smiles gently. “Just – if you ever are comfortable to tell me, then you can, okay?”
No, you can’t. The SQUIP snarls. You never can. He’ll hate you. He’ll leave you. You’ll be back at square one. He’ll hate you.
“I know.” Rich mumbles, staring the SQUIP dead in the eye. Or – the simulation of its eye? He didn’t fucking know.
“I’m here for you, buddy.”
No, you’re not.
He’s not sure if the SQUIP is the one telling him that, or if he’s actually thinking it himself.
oOo
It’s sophomore year, the vines in his chest are spreading, and he honestly kind of hates Jeremy Heere.
He knows it’s petty, to hate him just because he’s one of the reasons he can’t have Michael, will never have Michael, but he just does.
Because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he doesn’t notice how Michael’s there for him, how he cares so much more about the opinions of others than the opinion of his best friend, how whenever Michael looks at him like he’s the sun, he’s giving that same look to that drama girl Jake’s set his sights on.
And it’s not fair how Michael’s light dies a little every time Jeremy looks at her instead of him.
Rich goes for him more than Michael. He knows it’s wrong, and every time he sees that look of fear on Jeremy’s face he kind of wants to punch himself because it’s not fair, this shouldn’t be happening, Rich is the one who made his choice, why are they the ones who have to pay for it? But the SQUIP doesn’t give him a choice, and he feels like Michael was one punch away from losing his light completely.
Michael burns a little brighter whenever Jeremy gets knocked down, though. His light shines fiercely with his desire to protect his friend. It hurts that the burning is directed at Rich, but at least it keeps him shining.
oOo
When he walks into the bathroom, Jeremy’s there, and the SQUIP perks up like a hound that’s picked up a preys scent.
Make him pay, make him pay, make him pay.
Does he really have to?
Do it now, do it now, do it now.
He’s so tired…
NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!
Ugh.
“I told you not to wash that off.” He growls, ripping Jeremy’s ruined backpack from his hands.
“Uh – I-I was just looking for my homework-!”
(Maybe they could’ve been friends)
“Shut up, tallass!” He roars, tossing the bag aside and slamming his fist against the wall beside Jeremy’s head. Jeremy squeaks pitifully. Rich just wants to go home.
(Maybe if he’d waited before getting the SQUIP)
“W-Why do you even call me that?” Jeremy mumbles. “I’m not even that tall…”
(Maybe they could’ve been more than just losers, maybe he could’ve joined him and Michael, talked to them, been their friend, maybe he wouldn’t be cool but being cool was so tiring he just wanted to rest-)
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!
His head’s pounding. Make it stop, please just stop…
Finish with him. Then it’ll stop.
Jeremy honestly looks like he’s about to cry.
Rich just wants it to stop.
He plays along.
It’s not as bad as his usual stuff. He pounds on the door when Jeremy scurries into a stall, mocks his posture, calls him a girl (honestly a pretty weak insult, but hey, the SQUIP says emasculating’s cool, who’s he do disagree?). He’s pretty sure he rolls his hips at some point, which earns him a small sting from the SQUIP, and then he says something about confidence (ha fucking ha) and then-
Stop!
Rich gasps, his brain bursting with new information.
Make him an offer. He won’t refuse it.
Rich really wants to punch something.
How can Jeremy Heere want a SQUIP? What more can he want? He has a friend, a real friend, who likes him, loves him for who he really is, he isn’t terrible to look at, he gets okay grades, he’s surviving just fucking fine!
But, a small voice in the back of his head whispers, so was he. Before he got the SQUIP, he was doing alright. Not great, but manageable. Sure, he hadn’t had any real friends, the loneliness killed him every day and his father – Christ, his father.
Still, he probably could’ve scraped his way out of highschool, if he’d really tried.
But he’d wanted to do more than just survive.
He makes the offer. And he knows there’s no way Jeremy can refuse it.
oOo
He coughs up another flower. It’s so red he almost doesn’t notice the blood.
Stage two Hanahaki. Coughing up blood along with flowers is a clear sign of the second stage of Hanahaki disease. The flowers are now digging into your organs, rupturing your blood vessels and causing you to cough up blood.
“So you could find more.”
Watch your tone, Richard.
“Fuck you.”
Lightning runs up his spine and he stops talking.
This will all be so much easier if you just get the surgery.
“That is so not happening.”
I can transfer money to your bank account, you won’t even have to tell your father.
“I’m not doing it.”
The feelings will go, you can finally put this Michael business to rest and we can start making progress again! Get the surgery, Richard.
“I won’t. And you can’t make me.”
The SQUIP flickered with anger.
We’ll see about that.
oOo
It’s about three days after Jeremy gets his SQUIP and, honestly, Rich is kind of impressed.
The change is clearly noticeable – Rich almost didn’t recognise him when he walked in, clad in an Eminem shirt and a grey hoodie that was just a little too big, slipping over his shoulders effortlessly. His hair’s glistening with a small amount of product, and his eyes glint with power.
It makes Rich shudder.
They’re not exactly friends. More like partners. And their job was… Being cool, Rich supposed. Their SQUIPs were synched now, which makes Rich a little uncomfortable, especially when he feels Jeremy’s own SQUIP digging around his mind. It lands on memories of his father, and his SQUIP must be in a good mood today, because it immediately pushes Jeremy’s SQUIP out of his mind and away from the big black box he keeps hidden in the back of his brain.
The bell rings and they go their separate ways – or, they’re supposed to. But then the back of Rich’s neck prickles and he can’t help himself, he looks back again.
Michael’s bounding up the corridor, clearly thrown off by Jeremy’s new look, but it doesn’t look like it’s put a dent in his never ending optimism (Rich doubts anything could). He raises his hand for their stupid(ly cute) handshake, that sunshine smile lighting up his features.
“Jeremy, my buddy, how’s it-?”
Jeremy walks right past him, as if he never even saw him.
Michael stands there for a moment, paused in time, like a buffering computer program. Rich can hear the warning systems in his brain go off, does not compute, does not compute. His hand falls, and he stares at the space where Jeremy was moments ago. His smile drops, and the world is all darkness and shadows again.
For the rest of the day, Michael is staring longingly at Jeremy, who doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, and Rich feels a familiar burning in his chest. It’s not fair, not fair, not fair.
He coughs up more flowers at lunch, hunched over the toilet seat, tears streaking down his face because of how much it hurts.
He wipes his mouth, cleans his face and walks out the door as if nothing had happened.
Jake is waiting for him on the other side, and suddenly he’s crying again.
He goes back to Jake’s house, and drinks properly, despite the SQUIP telling him not to. He hasn’t actually drank before, unless you count the time he snuck a beer can from his dad’s stash to see how it tasted, had one sip, threw up and then had to deal with his dad in rage mode for two days. It doesn’t matter, though. One gulp and the SQUIP is nothing but glitchy gibberish with some random Japanese thrown in. Once he reaches the bottom of the bottle, he can barely even hear it.
They watch Sharknado and Jake lets Rich cry and cuddle into his side, and Rich wishes Jake was the one he fell for instead.
oOo
“It goes away if you fall in love with someone else, right?”
Rich frowns over his maths textbook.
“Uh. Not really? Like, only if that person loves you back, I think.”
Question 3 is 8.5.
He copies what the SQUIP tells him, first the working out and then the final answer. Jake gapes at him in awe.
“I will never understand how you get this shit.” He whispers in mock-admiration. Rich rolls his eyes and lets him copy his answers.
“Why’d you ask?” Rich asks, not really paying attention.
4 is 12 over 16. Simplify it to 3 over 4.
“Well…” Jake mumbles uncharacteristically. “What if, uh… What if we dated?”
Rich’s pen tears into his paper.
“Sorry.” Jake says quickly, avoiding his gaze. “That was-“
“Yeah.” Rich growls. Wait, no, not him – the SQUIP. He’s having trouble telling them both apart these days. “Why did – why - what?”
“I just thought…” Jake says quietly. “Like, I-I don’t like you. No offense, you are awesome, I just… Don’t. But - I dunno. Maybe I could. And maybe if we dated, I’d like you and you’d like me and this would all go away.”
No no no that’s wrong, that’s WRONG!
“We’re not doing that.” Rich snaps. Jake visibly flinches.
“Sorry.” He whispers. Rich feels his anger – or was it the SQUIPs? He can’t tell – flood away.
“No, Jake, I didn’t – I…” He sighs, flopping down on Jake’s desk. “I can’t – I can’t do that to you, man, like… That’s not fair to you.”
“I could like you.” Jake repeats. “I could – I could try.”
Rich groans in frustration.
“It’s not something you try to do, Jake, it’s just something you just do!” He tries to explain. “And – and even if you did, it’s not like it would work. I’m not gay.”
He’s not. He knows he’s not. He’s been attracted to girls before, definitely. He’s not gay.
(But choking up flowers because of some boy isn’t entirely straight, either)
“I think I’m bi.”
Rich’s pen stabs into Jake’s desk. How many more bombshells is this guy going to drop on him tonight?
“Or – I dunno, something like that. Pan?” Jake frowns. “That’s a thing, right? I think I heard Christine talk about it.”
That’s wrong, that’s wrong, that’s wrong!
That’s the guy who let Rich into his home just so he could get away from his own. That’s the guy who comforted him when he coughed up flowers in a bathroom stall at the end of junior year. That’s the guy who just offered to try and fall in love with him, just to help Rich out. That’s his best friend, so shut the fuck up.
“That’s okay, Jake.” Rich says quietly. “But – But I’m not. Not anything like that, so. It wouldn’t work. And even if I did, it still wouldn’t work, it just... It wouldn’t work, Jake.”
They slip into silence. Jake’s staring hard at the surface of his desk, his brow furrowed and jaw set, like when people ask him about his parents. The SQUIP seethes quietly in the back of Rich’s mind.
“I don’t want you to die, Rich.”
That makes one of them.
oOo
It’s five days after Jeremy first got his SQUIP and, wait. Did Rich miss something? Wasn’t Jeremy staring at Christine like she was a goddess just a few days ago? Why was he suddenly holding hands with Brooke Lohst? Rich doesn’t have anything against the girl, she was sweet, kind, a bit of a pushover, but altogether a pretty decent person. Probably the most decent of the populars. It just… Didn’t make sense.
He’s making progress. The SQUIP shrugs. Why do you care? It’s not affecting us.
No, but it’s affecting him.
Again and again Jeremy walks past Michael like he doesn’t even notice him. Like they’ve never even met. It’s honest to god spooky. And it hurts watching Michaels light die a little every time Jeremy looks right through him.
“Why can’t he see him?” He asks. The SQUIP rolls its eyes.
It’s called optic nerve blocking. His SQUIP must be blocking Michael from his field of vision.
“But why?” Rich frowns. Why would anyone want to block out Michael? The SQUIP glitches with frustration.
Obviously, Jeremy’s life is better without Michael there to drag him down. Just look at him.
It’s true, Jeremy does have a better look now. The populars are hanging off of him. He walks with an easy swagger. He seems more confident. But still, Rich can’t see how anyone would benefit from not having Michael in their life.
Maybe you should try it.
Rich scoffs and rolls his eyes, but then his eyeballs itch and he knows something’s wrong. He turns around to Michael’s desk.
Michael’s gone.
“Off.” He orders. “Cancel. Undo. Optic nerve blocking: off.”
Michael flickers back into his view. He narrows his eyes, frowning at Rich questioningly and mouthing, what?
Rich shakes his head quickly, as if to shake away his panic, and turns back around, sighing in relief.
“Don’t mess with my head again.” He growls. The SQUIP raises an eyebrow. It doesn’t say anything, but Rich understands.
That damn hivemind’s been messing with his head since the start.
oOo
He tries to get through the rest of the day normally.
Sure, it hurts watching Michael gaze at Jeremy with want and confusion. It hurts watching Jeremy glance around the room, as searching for Michael, even though he’s right there.
It hurts knowing what exactly what was going on yet not being able to say anything.
He keeps looking back at Michael. The SQUIP tries that optic nerve blocking trick a few more times, but Rich always notices. He can’t not notice Michael. Eventually, it gives up trying.
He just wants to make it to the end of the day. He just wants to go home and rest. Maybe his dad’s already knocked out by now. Maybe he can just sneak past him and sleep, grab whatever few hours of rest he can before his dad wakes up and it starts all over again.
And then Brooke kisses Jeremy.
It’s right in the middle of the corridor, square on the mouth, too. Jeremy clearly wasn’t expecting it. But he smiles politely – not his regular smile, Rich notes – and pulls her back in for another kiss.
Somehow, Rich’s gaze lands on Michael (because it always does, come on, it’s hardly a surprise at this point) and his chest doesn’t burn, but it aches.
The other boy gapes at his friend and his girlfriend. Rich can see where his heart shatters.
But then Michael jolts, doubling over, one hand over his mouth, the other clutching his chest, and Rich knows.
Christine – had she been there the whole time? – touches his arm gently and murmurs something to him, probably asking what’s wrong. Before she can finish, Michael’s already sprinting to the bathroom.
Rich is following him before his brain can even process everything that just happened.
He bursts into the bathroom, and for a moment, there’s nothing. He wonders if he was wrong. After all, what where the chances?
But then he hears choking and gagging from the furthest stall, and a small hiccupping sob after each coughing fit.
He ignores the SQUIP screaming in his head, strides to the door and pulls it open. Michael whirls around, a small drop of blood smearing the corner of his mouth. Dark blue petals spill over the toilet seat.
He looks so scared.
Get away get away do not go near him this is wrong he’s wrong stay away from him get away NOW!
He will. Just let him help him, just this once.
WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!!
He knows. He knows it’s wrong. But just let him help, just this once, and he’ll never go near Michael again.
The SQUIP goes quiet, and Rich thinks he’s won. Sort of. Maybe.
“Uh…” Michael says quietly, voice cracking painfully and making him wince. “Wh-What are you, um…”
Rich steps into the stall and quietly shuts the door behind him.
“Is this – are you seriously going to give me a swirly?” Michael gapes, strained humour trying to mask his fear. “I mean, that just seems a little cliché, don’t you think? C’mon, man, originality, it’s-“
He cuts himself off with a coughing fit. He hacks and gags, and spits a cluster of blue petals into the toilet, all clumped together with blood. It’s gross, yeah, but Michael’s more important. Rich sits down beside him and carefully, cautiously, places his hand on Michaels back. Michael flinches, and Rich almost moves away, but he seems to move into the touch, just slightly. He must be touch starved, what with Jeremy not being around anymore. Rich knows the feeling.
He keeps rubbing Michaels back until he’s stopped coughing, and then digs around in his backpack, Michael peering at him with confusion.
”Here.” Rich mutters, handing him a bottle full of cloudy, questionable water. Michael raises an eyebrow. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s like – honey and lemon and shit. Jake made it ‘cause Christine told him it was good for sore throats, and now he makes me drink it whenever I have a bad fit.”
Michael gapes at him, eyes wide in shock.
“You…” He murmurs. “You have-?”
“You can’t tell anyone.” Rich says quickly. “And if you do, I’ll-“
He doesn’t finish. There’s nothing he can do to Michael.
Michael narrows his eyes, examining him carefully, and slowly takes the bottle, like it might bite him if he moves too fast. He takes a cautious sip.
“It’s…” He frowns, looking at the bottle carefully. “Good?”
“Don’t need to sound so surprised. Jake’s actually pretty good at making drinks.” Rich says offhandedly. Is this what conversing is? He’s had the SQUIP taking the reigns for so long he kind of forgot what it was like to talk by himself.
Michael scoffs. “Yeah, like that’s a surprise.”
“Hey.” Rich says sharply. “Look, Jake may act like an ass sometimes but it’s ‘cause he’s oblivious, not ‘cause he’s a bad guy. Give him a little credit.”
“Sure I will, when he deserves it.”
Rich bites the inside of his cheek, but he doesn’t say anything. A dumb argument won’t help them here.
“It’s tallass, isn’t it?”
“He really isn’t that tall, y’know.” Michael rolls his eyes. “I mean, I’m taller than him.”
“Not hearing a no, headphones.”
Michael goes silent. Rich takes that as a yes.
“It’s your fault, y’know.”
Rich frowns. “What’sat supposed to mean?”
Michael glares at the red and blue mess in front of him. “It means it’s your fault. You’re the one who told him about that fucking – super powered tic-tac or whatever! And now he won’t even talk to me, not since…”
Rich bites his lip and draws blood. He took Jeremy from Michael and messed him up, made him like Rich. He took Michael’s sun and turned him into a red giant about to explode. He ruined everything for Michael.
He ruins everything, period.
“Mountain Dew Red.”
Michael frowns. “What?”
“Mountain Dew Red.” Rich repeats. He can feel the SQUIP pulling on his muscles and nerves, tugging him like a puppet. “You – you like that retro shit, right? Look it up, it was – was cancelled in the nineties or whatever but-“
The SQUIP tugs hard, and Rich feels his jaw clamp shut against his will. He stands up suddenly, his movements robotic, and shoves his way out of the stall, marching to the door.
“Hey, wait!” Michael cries, grabbing him by the wrist. The touch is enough to ignite the fire in his chest again, and it burns so painfully that it draws his attention away from the SQUIPs control.
He gasps, practically collapsing into Michael’s chest.
“What – What are you-?!”
“Please!” He says suddenly, except he doesn’t, he says ‘pleathe’, with a lisp, like how he did before the SQUIP became his puppet master. He has no strings now. He’s gone rogue. “Just – just look it up. I-I promise. It’ll help.” He holds Michael’s gaze. “Trust me.”
Michael’s eyes widen, confusion evident in those galaxies of brown, but before either of them can say anything, the SQUIP lets out an ear-piercing shriek that makes Rich scream and clutch Michael’s arms before he’s suddenly pushing him away.
“Stay the fuck away from me, freak.” The SQUIP snarls, storming Rich’s body out of the bathroom, into the hall, down the stairs, to the janitors closet. Classes have already started. He didn’t see any teachers. No one’ll know he’s there.
No one’ll come to get him.
We talked about this, Richard. The SQUIP chastises, its voice warped and distorted. For this to work, you must obey.
“I did.” Rich whispers, fear crawling up from his chest to his throat. “I – I said I’d help him, just that once, and then I’d leave him alone, you let me-“
He’s lisping again. Why is he lisping? Why isn’t the SQUIP helping him?
You told him. He knows now. You deliberately tried to undo everything I’ve done for you.
“I just wanted to see him smile again... I thought-”
Thought what? The SQUIP growls. That if you tried hard enough, he’d choose you over Jeremy? He loves him. He only ever talked to you because of him.
“But…” Rich croaks. “M-Maybe if I could just talk to him, maybe he could come with us-“
He’s distracting you, Rich. The more attention you give him, the more you suffer for it. Why do you insist on undoing everything I worked so hard for you to get?
“I-I didn’t-“
This is what you wanted, Richard.
The SQUIP’s voice floods his brain. It’s everywhere, he can’t get away from it, he just wants it to stop, please-!
Why are you being so ungrateful?
“I’m not, I just-!”
It’s so loud, so loud, please just go away-!
Do you really think he would’ve chosen you?
His chest burns.
Who’d love someone like you? You are nothing without me, Richard. Do you really think anyone would’ve given you a second look when you were just another loser? Do you think Michael would’ve?
He feels flowers crawl up his throat.
“No.” He whispers, after a moment of silence, the tears finally spilling. The SQUIP smiles. It looks wrong.
Very good, Richard.
He doesn’t feel good.
Let’s go home. Jake’s Halloween party is coming up. It’s crucial you attend. Maybe we can undo all the damage you did to our objective.
Rich nods. The movements feel slow, and heavy, like he’s underwater.
Good. And stop crying – anyone could see you like this, and your reputation is already suffering.
He can’t stop. It’s a mess. It gets so bad the SQUIP gets tired and just blocks his tear ducts instead. He can’t let it out now, so his emotions sit like a ball of lead in his stomach.
In the back of his mind, he remembers something about lead being poisonous. Too much of it can kill you.
He’s far too tired to make some dry, pessimistic joke about that. He just goes home instead.
oOo
It’s too loud.
Of course it’s loud, it’s a party. The SQUIP snaps. It’s extra snappy today.
Rich knows it’s supposed to be loud. Parties were loud. Music, dancing, drunk teenagers – it was kind of obvious. That doesn’t mean he has to like it.
Yes, it does. The SQUIP snarls. Parties are cool. You are cool. Therefore, you like parties.
Rich doesn’t really think it works like that.
It does, you’re just being difficult, why do you have to be such a brat?!
And now he has a headache. Brilliant.
He tries his best to ignore the SQUIP and scans Jakes party instead. He can make out Jeremy, in his dumb cyborg costume (did his SQUIP really think that was a good idea?), dancing with Brooke, dressed as a sexy dog (oh boy) and Chloe, dressed as a sexy baby (oh boy). He can’t find Jenna anywhere (she’s probably off live tweeting all the drama going down), but he spots Christine in a full princess gown, which she’s actually kind of pulling off. She had definitely put in more effort than the rest of them. Jake is Prince, which is pretty cool, Rich supposes. Jake is cool. He doesn’t even need a SQUIP. It’s effortless. Why couldn’t he be like Jake?
Then he remembers how Jake’s parents abandoned him, how much Jake struggled to keep up with all his extracurriculars, how he was certain something was wrong with him because there were so many great people at their school and he couldn’t even try to date any of them without getting bored and moving on to something new the very next day.
God, Rich is a dick.
He shakes his head. Just focus on the dancing.
Jake’s in the middle, engaging in some kind of dance off with Jeremy. Then there’s Chloe, then Brooke, close but trying to get closer. Christine, sitting on a couch smiling and chatting with the other party goers. And then Jenna, on the sidelines, glued to her phone and snapping photos of the action.
Jake’s the sun of this system. He’s the biggest, the brightest of the group – they all orbit him. Jeremy’s Mercury; he’s small, doesn’t really look like much, but he’s still closer to the sun than anyone else in the system. Hell, Rich wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up taking Jake’s place as the centre of the system. It would be easy, with his SQUIP and all.
Chloe. Venus. A ball of heat and lava and gas, encased in one solid shape. Beautiful, but she burns those who get too close. Like Brooke; the Earth. She started out lush and green and fresh but now she’s heading downhill. She’s burning up. She’s tense. Maybe it’s from having to keep up with the rest of the planets. Maybe she just wants to rest, too.
And then Jenna. Rich labels her as a moon, because she follows Chloe and Brooke in their orbits around Jake, but she orbits them, too. He wonders if it’s tiring for her, all those orbits, trying so desperately to be a part of the solar system and yet she’s just a big space rock following behind them.
Hm. That’s probably not Rich’s best analogy. He’ll have to try harder next time.
Christine didn’t even need to be part of the system. She just… Didn’t mind. Everything bounced off of her. If anything, it made her shine brighter. Like a star. Yeah. Christine’s a star. That’s a better analogy.
Michael-
Michael wasn’t part of this system. So Rich had no reason to be thinking about him. None whatsoever.
That just leaves Rich. What’s he? Where does he fit on the system? Is he Saturn, surrounded by jagged rings of rock and ice? Is he Pluto, barely even considered a planet? Or is he just a meteorite floating by on the outside, trying to get in close but burning up on impact?
The SQUIP screeches at him to shut up, shut up, shut up, and the music is pounding and the people are screaming and everything’s too loud, stop, stop, stop sTOP STOP
Jake has a car.
He keeps emergency jugs of gasoline in his garage. Just in case he runs out.
Rich is pretty sure he saw a lighter left on the kitchen table.
The SQUIP starts to scream again.
THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED I GAVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED I DID EVERYTHING WHY ARE THROWING IT ALL AWAY WHY WHY WHY
“Shut the fuck up.” He snarls. His movements are slow and his body burns, like he’s walking through lava, but he’s still moving. He grabs someone’s cup at some point and chugs it, and the SQUIP screams and glitches and jabbers in random Japanese but eventually it’s just a dull throb in the back of his mind.
Somehow he finds himself in Jake’s attic. He can’t remember how he got there. He’s holding a can of gasoline he can’t remember getting. In his pocket, a lighter rests against his thigh. He can’t remember how that got there, either.
Alcohol was wild.
He grabs the can and starts dousing every inch of the attic in oil. It reeks. Makes him gag. He gives the lighter a few experimental flicks. On the last flick, he holds it, looking at the flickering flame in front of him. And then he realises.
He’s not a sun, or a planet, or a meteorite. He’s a black hole, and he’s about to destroy everything in his sight.
He tosses the lighter onto the petrol. The flames burst and throw him backwards.
Everything stops.