Chapter Text
The aftermath of a hospital stay is always difficult; once you return from the bustling routine, it's hard to get back to normal.
Especially for Jeremy Heere.
Recovery from the hospital is hard enough, but when you add the SQUIP into this mess? It tends to make things....more complicated.
"We're home, Jeremy." Jeremy blinks away the fogginess of his thoughts, looking around his surroundings. His dad was right, they were home. Huh. He thought the drive would take longer.
"I'll help you walk up the stairs, I know you're still weak. Give me a second." Jeremy was faintly aware of the click of the seatbelt, and the opening of the car door. Small sounds, but ones he can clearly hear due to his hearing being restored to what it originally was. Apparently, the squip had blocked all unnecessary noises so he could "focus on the task at hand." Same with his sight, for that matter. Now that it's gone, his senses seem heightened. Everything hurts.
The car door swings open, and he undoes the seatbelt and clambers out of his seat. It's surprising, how much his body seemed to rely on that pill.
"Come on, I'll help you to your room. Do you want me to make you anything? Microwave Mac and cheese? A sandwich?" His dad shuts the car door, before helping him walk to the front porch.
"I'm good. Thanks, dad." He smiled, trying to hide the fact that he honestly just wants to sleep. His head hurts.
"Alright...Don't hesitate to tell me if you need anything, okay? I'm going to be a better dad now. It's what you deserve." Mr. Heere opened the front door, and Jeremy sighed as he stepped back into the familiarity of his home. He's missed it.
"I will." He kicked his shoes off, before starting the walk down the hallway.
"Seriously, Jeremy. Just call me if you need me, I'll make dinner soon." He stated, as Jeremy gave him a thumbs up.
"Okay. Love you, dad." He opened his door, sliding into his room.
"Get some sleep, bud." Mr. Heere called, and Jeremy nodded before shutting the door.
As soon as it's shut behind him, he falls to his knees and tries not to cry. Things are SO different and he doesn't know what to do. After relying on a computer to control his body systems and to remind him to do things, his body is still struggling to cope again with having to function on his own. He doesn't know if he could sleep, even if he wants to.
Not to mention the hearing thing again. The fish tank in his room is bubbling, and he can't think straight with the noise. He knows there's no fish in there either, considering both his dad and Michael seemed to forget about them while he was in his coma and they died. Yeah, that's another fun thing to think about.
He was in a coma.
The dark, endless void of slow sounds and muted memories that he can barely remember.
The smell is the one thing that stuck with him: hospital anesthetic. Strong, cold, and he's unable to place what it actually smells like. All he knows is that it seemed to cloud his head, keeping him out cold even though he KNEW it was his own body's decision to shut down. He'd consider it a miracle that he's even alive, at this point.
Speaking of miracles, he really doesn't know how he's NOT dead. According to the neurologist, the amount of shock that was sent to his brain should've killed him. Divine interference is the only thing he can think of.
Clasping his hands together, he exhaled softly and looked around his room.
"Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel l'chayavim tovim she-g'malani kol tuv..." he murmured, thankful that he still knows the Birkat HaGomel by heart. He's had too much on his mind lately to actually do his prayers, and he can't help but feel guilty about it. This is a situation where he's just thankful to be alive. He won't forget his prayers again.
He's finally back to as normal as he can be, and he won't just leave everything behind again.
Standing to his feet, he shakily walked to his bed and pulled the covers back. His room seems unfamiliar but normal, at the same time. It's probably because it was cleaned while he was in the hospital, so he's not used to actually seeing it so spotless. The SQUIP didn't care about the state of his room- he never invited anyone over, so why should it matter, right? That was the SQUIP's logic, and it seemed to work.
Flopping down, he tried to dispel the now barely audible buzzing from his mind. Things are strange- and it'll only be worse when he goes back to school. He's not going to think about it. Right now, he just needs to take a break and let himself recover. Stressing can be something he does later.
Right as he lays down, the sharp ping of his message notification pierces the room. Groaning, he picked the phone up and squinted at the message.
Mikey: ur dad told me ur home?? Can I come over
Jeremy: *your, you're. And yeah, I'm home. Come over if you want
Mikey: glad to see your still correcting my choice of words. I'll be over in 10
Jeremy: *YOU'RE
He threw his phone to the side, shifting on the bed as his head continued to ache. He probably should've taken some Tylenol, but hey. Suffering seems like the better option. He can't help but think that this is his karma for taking the squip, regardless.
The 10 minutes are insufferably long, and he doesn't even lift his head off the pillow when Michael walks in.
"Hey, Player 2. How are you feeling?" He asked, walking around to the other side of the bed and jumping on it. Jeremy grimaced as the bed shifted, and pouted slightly.
"Like death. Not surprising, considering I almost died." He laughed lightly, resting the back of his hand against his eyes. Michael didn't laugh, giving a glance at Jeremy.
"Don't joke around like that, you almost did die." His voice was quieter, as he started to fidget with his jacket.
"Sorry." Jeremy muttered, opening his eyes slightly and looking up at Michael.
"Do you want me to get you anything? I still have my shoes on, so...a 7/11 trip is cool if you want that." Michael nervously played around with his headphones, and Jeremy gasped in mock horror.
"You're wearing shoes on MY BED? Friendship cancelled." He teased, and froze when he saw Michael go rigid.
"Fuck. Fuck, Michael, I didn't mean that. I'm only joking." He sat up, resting his hand on Michael's arm lightly.
"Y-Yeah. I know. No big deal." Michael looked at him, giving him a tight-lipped smile and ruffling his hair lightly.
"I'm gonna go grab some chips. You wanna watch a movie or is your head hurting too much for that?"
"I...I'm actually really tired. Soon, I promise." Jeremy answered, biting his lip as he waited for Michael's reaction.
"...I'll just head home, then. I hope you feel better, Jeremy. We need to beat level nine, so...come over, you know, if you want. I won't be doing anything, anyway. You know me, just a stoner in my basement." He attempted a laugh, but it sounded fake. Jeremy knew that right off the bat.
Michael got up and walked out of the room, giving a small wave to Jeremy before shutting the door.
Awkward doesn't even begin to describe that encounter. He's never been that awkward around Michael- he's never had to even think of anything to say. Now? He has to go through multiple processes of thought before he can even get the nerve to talk to his best friend. He knows he hurt Michael at the party- and frankly? He doesn't know why he's even here now.
He sure as hell doesn't deserve Michael, and he now knows that he's always going to have to be careful around what he says. What he said in the bathroom that night ruined his friendship. He's willing to do anything to get it back to normal, if he can ever find normal again. What he did is unforgivable in his eyes- he doesn't even know why Michael even bothered to save his ass at the play. He certainly didn't deserve it, with the way he treated him.
Enough deep thoughts. His mind is racing, thoughts of what he needs to do to fix things with Michael and how he's going to go back to school are racing through his head and he just needs it to stop. The stupid fish tank won't stop making noise, and he just feels like shit.
The SQUIP is gone, but there will always be lasting effects, won't there? He can't escape from it entirely.
He doesn't deserve to, anyway. Suffering is what he deserves. After all, he almost doomed human civilization due to his desperate pleading to just be noticed. He knows his place now- he's not going to make the same mistake twice.
"Jeremy? You need anything?" His dad lightly knocked on the door, before inching it open slightly.
"Just some Tylenol and tissues." He answered, running his fingers on the pillowcase absentmindedly.
“Okay." Mr. Heere shut the door, and Jeremy was unaware of the frown etched on his face. He knows he's a mess, and what he did isn't something worth redemption. He can't help but wish he could fix things automatically- he hurt a lot of people. That guilt is threatening to swallow him up, along with everything else going on right now.
He hurt Brooke. He hurt Michael. Christine won't ever want to be near him again- and at this point, he doesn't care. Everything just feels like it's being sucked into a black hole, dragging Jeremy with it.
There's just so much he has to fix, so many relationships he needs to talk out, so many bridges he needs to rebuild. He just doesn't know if he can do it.