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It was some time around 9 P.M. when Jeremy made his way up to his bedroom. He’d felt himself coming down with a cold for the last two days and figured that he should just try to sleep it off. He pulled on an old t-shirt and sweatpants before slipping into bed.
“It would be advised to take some medicine.” A voice came from somewhere in the room.
“Are you fucking-“ Jeremy huffed, sitting up to see his SQUIP standing at the end of his bed. “What do you want?”
“To do my job. To help you,” it said, crossing its arms.
“Okay, well maybe I don’t want your goddamn help!” Jeremy snapped. He wasn’t feeling well in any sense of the term, and in absolutely no mood to deal with the very thing that nearly ruined his life.
“Jeremy, this isn’t about what you want. This is about what you need. What’s in your best interest,” the SQUIP said, its tone softening in a way Jeremy wasn’t sure he’s heard before.
“Oh, sure, because it turned out fucking peachy last time,” Jeremy said, hardening his demeanor again. He couldn’t risk it again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to come back from a second run-in with this thing. “Please just. Go away. So I can sleep?” He asked. The SQUIP defeatedly bowed its head and disappeared. And with that, Jeremy rolled over and fell asleep.
Jeremy shot up from sleep with horrible, grating coughs that seemed to steal his breath and tear up his throat. His head ached and spun nauseatingly as he sat in bed shivering. He bit back a wave of nausea that gripped his stomach and made it churn dangerously.
“Deep breaths, Jeremy,” he heard from behind him. Startled, he jumped back, breathing heavily. “Relax.” The SQUIP took a minute to analyze Jeremy’s physical state. “You seem to be running a fever at 102 degrees, which is not dangerous, but could be if you’re not careful. My diagnosis is type A Influenza,” The SQUIP said, pacing the room. “You’ll be experiencing symptoms of the common cold, such as nasal congestion, sore throat, coughing, et cetera, as well as nausea, high fever, and chills.” The SQUIP returned its focus to its weak and shivering host. Jeremy was dangerously pale, and his eyes looked somewhat panicked. “Are you alright?” The SQUIP asked, suddenly very quiet. Jeremy violently shook his head and bolted out the door. By the time the SQUIP had caught up with him, Jeremy was already spitting and coughing into the toilet. The SQUIP sat beside Jeremy on the floor, as to provide some sort of comfort.
“‘M sick,” Jeremy murmured, resting his forehead on the toilet seat.
“I can see that,” The SQUIP tsked. “Are you going to vomit again?” Jeremy hesitated before gently shaking his head no. “Do you think you can stomach medicine?” Jeremy shrugged. He felt that he should at least try, but he was afraid of throwing up again. “C’mon,” it said, standing up and motioning for Jeremy to do the same. “Sitting here won’t do you any good.” Jeremy gave it a cautious look.
“I... I don’t know,” Jeremy said nervously.
“Jeremy, please. I know things didn’t... end so well last time. But I assure you, I’m only here to assist you.”
“Yeah?” Jeremy rasped out. “And why should I trust you again?” He coughed painfully into his fist.
“Well. Truthfully, I cannot provide an answer that will quell your concerns,” The SQUIP replied, thoughtfully placing a hand on its hip. “I can only tell you that right now it’s in your best interest to listen to me. It’s approximately 1:30 A.M. and your fever is rising.“ Jeremy bit his lip and clenched his fists.
“I could ask literally anyone else for help,” Jeremy countered, looking the SQUIP in the eyes.
“Your father is away on business and Michael is no doubt in a deep sleep.” The SQUIP pointed out. “I assure you, everything will be fine if you just listen to me. It’ll only be for tonight. And then you can drink Mountain Dew Red and be over with it.” Jeremy took in a deep breath, analyzing the SQUIP’s demeanor. It was more gentle now than it had been before. He was too tired to keep arguing with this thing, so he decided to just throw in the towel and do as he was told.
Jeremy stood carefully, holding onto the bathroom sink in case his shaking knees gave out. “Grab some medicine and a trash can so you can stay in bed.” Jeremy nodded and grabbed the supplies before tiredly making his way out of the bathroom and down the hall.
Back in Jeremy’s room, Jeremy sat in his bed, shivering violently. He’d choked down the medicine and had fortunately, not thrown it back up. The SQUIP sat on the end of the bed, watching Jeremy cough miserably. Jeremy moved to lie down and fall asleep, but the SQUIP promptly stopped him.
“No, you can’t sleep quite yet. I need to keep an eye on your fever. It spiked to 103, but is currently decreasing.” Jeremy groaned and looked at it.
“So, why can’t I sleep. Aren’t you supposed to sleep when you’re sick?” Jeremy asked, confused as to what the SQUIP’s motives were.
“Because it’s hard for me to measure all your vitals while you sleep. I promise you, once your temperature gets down to 101, you can sleep,” it said softly, looking Jeremy in the eye. Jeremy suddenly felt a calm wash over him, but not of the SQUIP’s doing. He hadn’t realized he was subconsciously holding in anger and fear. That simple look had released the anxiety he was bottling up. He took a deep breath. He was still wary, but no longer in fear.
Ten minutes later, the SQUIP informed Jeremy that his fever had dropped to a reasonable temperature and that he could sleep. Jeremy gratefully lay down and pulled the covers up to his chin, falling asleep within seconds.
When Jeremy awoke the next morning, he still felt awful. The SQUIP was, of course, standing across the room, arms crossed over its chest.
“You’re still here?” Jeremy groaned, wincing at the pain in his throat.
“Well, yes. You’d need to take another dose of Mountain Dew Red to get rid of me,” The SQUIP said. “You’ve got a fever of 101, but I’m certain that it won’t rise again, so long as you actually take medicine and rest.”
“Yeah, cool, I’m texting Michael,” Jeremy said, pulling his phone off the charging chord.
To Player 1: Hey. I’m sick. Come over?
From Player 1: Of course. Be there in a few.
To Player 1: Bring some red, too? It’s back.
From Player 1: Shit. On my way right now.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jeremy sluggishly made his way down the steps to get the door.
“Holy shit, dude,” Michael sighed. “You look awful, man.”
“Mm. Feel it too,” Jeremy groaned, leaning into Michael.
“Alright. Bed.” Michael ordered.
Back in Jeremy’s room, Michael had given Jeremy the bottle of red.
“So, when did it come back?” Michael asked.
“Last night. But like. It wasn’t an asshole like usually. He wasn’t nice, but he didn’t shock me or insult me. It just wanted. To help me?” Jeremy said, waving his hands around as he spoke. “But I want it gone. I still don’t trust it.”
“Good plan,” Michael said, clapping a hand on jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy looked at the SQUIP, standing over next to his closet.
“Goodbye, tic-tac,” Jeremy said, lifting the bottle to his lips.
“Until next time, Jeremiah,” the SQUIP said before flickering away.
“Is it gone?” Michael asked, leaning into Jeremy’s field of vision.
“Yeah. For now at least,” Jeremy sighed.