Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy! If I have to take over the entire student body to do it!"

Jeremy's phone clattered to the stage floor, his entire body seizing up as he followed it down. Shockwaves rippled through him like the worst case of pins and needles in the world as he tried to reach for his phone. He needed Michael, the only person that could drag him out of this mess. He knew Michael didn't have much reason to help him, but it was his only hope. His only chance at fixing what he'd so royally fucked up.

Jeremy's stiff limbs couldn't get him any further as he watched his phone screen go dark, the cropped New Year's selfie of him and Michael disappearing just like he’d disappeared from Michael's side. The darkness backstage started to swallow him until a piercing light flashed over him. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, but as quickly as it was gone, Jeremy felt the static start to clear from his heavy body and found he was being pulled up off the ground.

"Don't think you're supposed to be napping backstage, buddy." He felt his arm loop around something as he was hoisted to his feet. "Might miss your cue."

Jeremy blinked away the remaining static in his head and blearily looked up at his savior, eyes widening as recognition hit him like a stack of bricks. "Michael!"

He threw himself into a hug on sheer instinct, and any idea that Michael didn't want any part of him was quickly forgotten when he hugged back, squeezing him with just as much enthusiasm as ever. Jeremy would've stayed in that hug indefinitely if there weren't more pressing matters at hand.

"How did you- you actually came for- what made you-" He abandoned all questions he had and pulled away with an excited laugh he didn’t know he was capable of anymore. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Michael handed Jeremy’s phone back to him, wearing an easy smile that Jeremy had nearly forgotten. “I was just in the audience thinking, 'this is pretty good for a school play.' Then I was like,” he shook Jeremy’s shoulders for comical emphasis, “'this is way too good for a school play!' They've all been squipped, right?”

Jeremy blinked rapidly. "W-w-wait, you came to see me in The Play??" That tugged at his heart more than he expected it to. Even after blocking Michael out for so long, he still…

Michael reached into his hoodie pocket with a playful smirk. "Even brought my own refreshments." He pulled out a red soda and pointed it to the sky like it was an all powerful elixir. To Jeremy, it practically was.

"Is that-?!"

"Mountain Dew Red!" Michael poked Jeremy's arm with the top of the bottle. "Told you I did my research."

Jeremy had to remember to shower Michael with every ounce of praise in the world the moment there wasn’t a tyrannical computer meddling around inside his brain. "That's amazing! Give it to me!"

Michael suddenly pulled the bottle out of his reach. "Ah-buh-buh. No."

Dread ran down Jeremy's back like hot molasses. No? After bringing it to The Play?? "What?? But- I need it."

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly looking about half as angry as Jeremy suspected he should’ve after all was said and done. The other half was a painful mix of betrayed and tired. He didn’t imagine the isolation had exactly been fun for Michael. "And I need an apology. I think that's in order. I mean, you treat me like I don't exist for weeks, then blow me off when I try to help you-"

Jeremy dropped his shoulders with a sigh, accepting that he’d been a bit hasty. An apology was the least Michael deserved. "Okyouknowwhat, you're right, I'm s-"

“Vocal Chords: Blocked”

The word got scrambled on Jeremy’s tongue. He brought his hands to his throat with wide eyes when further attempts to say sorry produced only silence. Shit, the SQUIP still had control over him! Of course it wouldn’t go down so easily!

Michael rolled his eyes hard. "Really? Is it that hard to say you’re sorry?"

"Y…” The tension in Jeremy’s throat thankfully subsided, but he knew Far Cry 3’s definition of insanity, and resigned to the fact that the apology had to be shelved for now. “Yes! Come on, man, this is important!"

"This is important to me!" Michael insisted. Of all the times he could’ve chosen to be stubborn…

"It's a word!"

"It's a gesture! Gestures matter!"

"It can wait a couple minutes!" Jeremy made a move for the bottle, but Michael still kept it above his head out of arm’s reach. Shit, if only he knew the full scope of what the SQUIP was doing.

"Kung Fu Fists: Activate"

Jeremy's body snapped into a stance he'd never taken, much like an idle character jerking into a fighting animation about as smoothly as you’d expect for a buggy video game. His speech felt much the same. Thoughts he’d never dare say out loud coming out in the worst way they could’ve been phrased.

"This is so you!" A punch that Jeremy didn't throw nearly connected to Michael's newly shocked face. "You love to feel superior," another punch that Michael narrowly avoided, "just because you eat eel on your sushi!" Yet another, "And listen to music on vinyl!" A successful kick to the side that caught Michael off guard, "And you don't care about being popular!"

The SQUIP had taken control of Jeremy’s body before, usually just to get him out of a room or something equally menial. To watch his own body attack Michael without his input while he was powerless to stop it was nothing short of horrific. And to hear such twisted sentiments falling out on his mouth was just as much. Michael’s easy indifference to a reputation that Jeremy had always cared so much about was a little annoying, yes, but this wasn’t the time nor the way that Jeremy wanted that dirty laundry to be aired out. Not when his sheer admiration for Michael outweighed that little smidge of underlying bitterness.

The weight of just how long it’d been since they last linked up started to press down on Jeremy. Two months of no AotD or weed or runs to 7-Eleven all caught up to him and hit him at once. Holy shit, he missed Michael so much. And to imagine a world where he didn’t have him? Where the SQUIP completely erased him from his life, for good? Jeremy couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let the SQUIP win. He loved Michael too much to watch him fade away again.

Wait. He loved Michael. Like. As something other than a best friend. As someone he didn't want to be apart from ever again if it could be helped, and he hoped it could be, considering the technological uprising in progress. He’d never paid much mind to the more… questionable thoughts he’d had of Michael and always just blamed it on hormones, or loneliness, or some resignation that no one else would ever date him so fantasies were the best he was gonna get. But… no. No, he wanted that stuff too. There was a bigger reason that the homophobic remarks of years past hurt as much as they did. Impulsive stoned desires of kissing Michael weren’t a sole product of being high; they hadn’t come out of nowhere.

Jeremy loved Michael. His humor, his charm, the upbeat energy that seemed to follow him everywhere - SQUIP happenings notwithstanding - there was a reason he’d felt so hollow after blocking his friend. He'd always known he loved Michael; they'd known each other pretty much their whole lives after all. He just hadn't known the wider scope of it until... shit, why did the world decide now was the time to give him this revelation?!

Michael caught Jeremy's foot out of the air, struggling against the second kick the SQUIP was trying to land since the first one had actually yielded results. "Of course I care!" He threw Jeremy's foot down, causing a stumble and forced repositioning. "I just know it's never gonna happen!"

Michael tried stuffing the soda back into his hoodie pocket, only being able to get it partially in before Jeremy pushed him into the wall with strength that wasn't his own. "So you resent me because I didn't give up like you did?" a scary voice sneered. 

Michael grabbed Jeremy's wrists and crossed his arms over his chest to give him less mobility and reach to fight him. Something painful flashed over his face. "No, I don't resent you! I'm jealous you try!"

"Well I'm jealous you don't!" The truth of the words scratched at Jeremy’s throat as he tried resisting whatever lie or petty jab the SQUIP wanted to twist out of him. The SQUIP tried thrashing Jeremy out of Michael’s grasp, but an overcalculation brought them both falling to the ground instead.

The Mountain Dew Red fell out of Michael's pocket with a dense thud, followed by a quiet hiss. A thick layer of pink foam began to form atop the meniscus of the soda as the bottle jerkily rolled a few feet away before coming back halfway to a wobbly halt.

Michael grunted in pain upon landing with Jeremy on top of him. "Then why are you hitting me?!"

"I'm not-" Jeremy’s fist veered just far enough left to miss Michael's shoulder and punch the stage floor instead – it hurt, and it was the most he'd been able to accomplish, "trying to!"

Michael managed to take hold of Jeremy’s wrists again. The SQUIP fought hard to keep control. Jeremy hoped that he could fight harder to take it back. "Well don't try harder!"

“It’s not me!” Jeremy choked out, the burning in his scraped knuckles getting drowned out by the one holding his body hostage. “It’s- my- SQUIP!”

He sloppily tore himself off of Michael, the pain of resisting the SQUIP’s actions strangling a raspy gasp out of him as he hit the stage floor. The friction prickled at his elbow as he tried to distance himself and keep from hurting Michael further. He couldn’t get very far before he was seized into place by the SQUIP’s electricity again, like when he’d tried calling Michael. Jeremy didn’t think he’d ever been in more pain, but he’d endure it if he didn’t have to watch himself fight his best friend.

Michael’s eyes widened in horror at the kind of power the SQUIP had, then darkened upon things becoming more personal than they already were. He’d never been fond of anyone that went out of their way to hurt Jeremy, and the SQUIP was clearly no exception. "It's. What?"

Unshed tears stung Jeremy’s eyes. He wondered if fire burned half as bad as this. He wondered if Rich knew. He wondered if he’d live through this and actually be able to tell Michael what he really meant to him. "It's taking over my body.” Jeremy tried pushing himself up, but his arms gave out beneath him. He felt like an elephant was standing on him. It was so hard to breathe. “You gotta help me! I'm sorry!"

Michael scrambled for the Mountain Dew Red with newfound urgency and several muttered ‘shit’s. “Remind me to quick your SQUIP’s ass after this.”

Jeremy typically wasn’t fond of Michael beating people up in his name, but he doubted that he could get suspended for threatening something that wasn’t technically corporeal. Plus, it was more fun to picture the SQUIP getting its shit wrecked than to point out the logistical flaws in attempting such.

The SQUIP didn’t even need to actively fight Michael to make it difficult to give Jeremy the Red Dew, as his pained writhing was more than enough to make the task near impossible. It might’ve been easier to wrap him in a blanket burrito just to keep his limbs from flailing around, like he were a skittish cat that needed to be held still for a vet. But Michael didn’t have a blanket or some readily available equivalent, and straddling Jeremy wasn’t getting him very far, so the best he could do was try and restrain him from behind. This was more effective at keeping Jeremy still when it was a full body effort, but it didn’t give Michael the freedom to actually get the bottle open, so the victory was hollow.

A recently familiar clickity clack caught Jeremy’s ear, and thankfully Michael’s too, as he was waving a hand trying to flag down a certain popular kid on crutches. The context of Jeremy being locked between Michael’s legs on the ground was clearly lost on Jake, but they couldn’t really complain when he hobbled over to see what all the commotion was about.

“Jake! This is gonna sound weird, but if I hold down Jeremy, can you make him drink this Mountain Dew Red?” Michael tossed the bottle up to Jake, watching him catch it out of the air.

Jake looked between the bottle and the two of them for a moment, then flashed an annoyingly charming smile that anyone attracted to guys would swoon at. “Actually? That doesn’t sound weird at all.”

Thank fuck for chaotic theatre nonsense expanding Jake’s horizons on what constituted ‘weird.’

“Up, up, down, down, left, right, A.”

Jake hissed and winced at some internal pain - one that Jeremy immediately knew the cause of when he felt it too - bringing one hand up to his forehead. He grinned unnaturally wide and unscrewed the bottle's cap with just his thumb and index finger. Carbonation escaped with a fizzy hiss as the lid clicked against the ground and rolled under a prop dresser. Pastel soda foam poured over the lip of the bottle like a baking soda volcano before Jake turned the capsule upside down, letting all the Red Dew come down like a bloody waterfall with several glugs in rapid succession.

The two gave appropriate cries of dismay as Jeremy’s ticket to autonomy was flushed away right before their very eyes. Jeremy didn’t know if his panicked flail gave Michael the impression that his SQUIP was interfering again or if he was squeezing him harder because he was also terrified. Honestly, it was a toss-up. All they could do was watch as the now empty bottle bounced against the floor and shortly teetered to a hollow stop.

“Yo, check this out!” Jake suddenly threw his crutches down, fully on his feet like he wasn't thigh-deep in bandaging after jumping out a second story window less than two weeks ago.

Jeremy looked on in awe and horror. “It healed your legs?”

“No,” Jake threw far too casually, “but I can’t feel pain! It’s awesome!” He then turned tail and hobbled on-stage just in time for his cue, falling into character flawlessly.

Jeremy saw that the bottle still had a splash of soda and fizz inside, adrenaline taking over as he scrambled toward it like a mindless creature scrounging for scraps. A shimmering silver character shoe stomped down in front of the bottle right in front of his fingers, making him recoil and snap his gaze up.

Brooke and Chloe stood above him with glowing turquoise eyes to match his own. Their cheap costumes were held together by safety pins and prayers, and yet Jeremy felt as though stalking velociraptors had just found his hiding spot.

“There you are, Jeremy,” the girls purred. Chloe kicked the bottle even further away from Jeremy with the side of her boot, some scarlet droplets spattering about like a sprinkler along its journey. Shitshitshitshit.

The two pulled Jeremy to his feet and clung onto an arm each. It was scarier than it should've been, but Brooke and Chloe nearly matching and further exceeding his height respectively thanks to their heeled shoes probably didn't make him feel any safer. Oh gods, what did they want with him?

Brooke smiled up at him sweetly, resting her head on his shoulder. “I just want you to know, I’m not mad you broke my heart and slept with my best friend.”

Chloe rested her head atop Jeremy's. “And I’m not mad you dated my best friend and wouldn’t sleep with me.”

Michael looked like he was planning to set a rescue mission in motion before Brooke merely pushed Jeremy aside, staring up at her friend with wide eyes. “Wait, he didn’t sleep with you??”
“No,” Chloe answered with a roll of her eyes.

“He didn’t sleep with me!” Brooke grinned.

Chloe gaped. “No!”

“Oh my God, why was I so jealous of you!” The girls gasped at their unanimity, linking their hands together. “You were jealous of me? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

Jeremy eventually processed that he wasn't being held captive anymore and caught sight of a plastic sheen, pointing urgently at it as the girls’ giggling faded away. “Michael, the bottle! There’s still a few drops left!”

Michael gestured out to the ensemble members that cluttered the backstage area. “How am I supposed to get past them?”

Jeremy looked up at his friend, elbowing him lightly. “Who said it was just gonna be you?”

Michael peered back, being met with a sheepish smile. He returned it and held up a hand in offering. “Press Start to join?”

Jeremy went through their handshake, and for just a moment, things felt blissfully normal. “Press A to continue.”

The initial plan going forward had been a stealth mission, but more people had drank from the beaker than Jeremy had thought, and put up a helluva fight to keep he and Michael at bay. He wondered how far down the line his SQUIP had actually established links. How much of his earlier pain had been from said linkings versus torture just for the sake of it? He figured the majority was the latter, knowing how liberally the SQUIP tended to shock him. But all things considered, Michael and Jeremy handled themselves damn well and took every opportunity they could to gang up on particularly aggressive cast members. Jeremy would’ve preferred he could reconnect with Michael without the threat of a hivemind looming over their heads, but fuck it, he had no right to be picky.

He hated to say that while Michael was being blocked, he did more or less forget about him. But he didn’t. Not really. He’d always felt that something was missing. Something important. An empty space next to him, usually filled by Brooke or Rich before long, but the feeling didn't go away. There was still something - someone - that should’ve been there. He’d look at old blankets and knick knacks gifted to him and be tinged with an ache of familiarity. Where did he get this? When did he get this? No, his dad hadn’t given it to him; he would’ve remembered that. Wouldn’t he? Who gave him this blanket?

Jeremy might’ve forgotten Michael entirely had Halloween not gone so specifically wrong. Even now, he was remembering new things with every passing moment. The character and weapon set Michael favored in Apocalypse of the Damned. His favorite fight scenes in film that he would sometimes act out when waiting for food in the microwave to heat up. Elaborate dreams that he would call to tell Jeremy about before he could forget them, a few of which they created characters and stories for that Jeremy had jotted down notes for in a space-themed notebook.

He remembered schoolyard taunts that Michael would effortlessly deflect at as young as eight years old. Assurances that those mean kids just wanted to make him feel bad and to not listen to them. To listen to me. Because I like you. And I don’t want you to feel bad. And Michael proved as much, time and time again. Day after day. Year after year. Even now, Michael never stopped fighting for him. Not really. He researched from the sidelines. Worked in the shadows. Showed up in Jeremy’s time of need to help, like he always did.

It’s you, he realized.

This realization was interrupted by a SQUIP-driven Brooke tackling Jeremy to the ground, and while he had reservations about fighting her regardless of technological influences, he accepted that it would be another apology to pile onto all the others as he pushed her off of him into a costume rack; the broken one, that always got overloaded with costumes because the functional one was much smaller, with only enough space to hold the leads’ wardrobes. The lower bar collapsed and buried Brooke in costumes of questionable quality.

Michael held out a hand for Jeremy to take, slow motion taking hold of the moment. Jeremy’s hand falling into Michael’s. Michael’s fingers closing around his hand securely. Michael pulling Jeremy up off the ground. Jeremy watching the shine of the spotlight behind Michael’s head shift as he rose higher. Jeremy momentarily forgetting how to support his own weight when he was back on his feet. Michael putting his free hand on Jeremy’s shoulder to steady him. Jeremy wondering if he was short of breath because of his scuffle with Brooke or because he'd suddenly gained a sense of awe over Michael's smile after being without it for so long. Realizing that being the cause of Michael's smile gave him a sense of pride and happiness that little else in the world had been able to rival over the years.

It was always you.

“Got it!” Michael scooped up the holy grail, and as if the action had triggered a cinematic cutscene, The Final Boss and her army of the Infected backed the pair against the wall: Jenna Rolan and the Midsummer cast.

She had a powerful manic laugh that put the greatest of villains to shame, Jeremy had to admit. Even without the technological influence of her SQUIP, she’d always been one of the better actors in The Play, and it would’ve been a treat to see under any other context. “I know what you’re doing, Michael. I know what everyone’s doing! Aaall the time!”

With a flick of her wrist, she set her minions loose onto the pair. The cast felt bigger than Jeremy remembered it being. He couldn’t even see the wings through the density of the crowd. He tried grabbing for Michael’s hand but couldn’t seem to find it.

“I just feel sooo connected to you guys right now!” thirty-something teenagers chorused.

Jeremy was shoved through a small gap in the crowd and left stumbling. His heart dropped when he saw that Michael was still in the middle of the horde, holding the bottle out of the Zombies’ reach. Fuck, was Jeremy ever going to get a chance to Michael or would he have to endure his self-sacrificial bullshit until the end of time?! Would he even make it to intermission?? “Michael!”

“Jeremy!” A sophomore swung an arm up to grab the bottle, but only missed by a fraction of an inch. Michael couldn’t hold them off forever. “Catch!”

The bottle flew through the air mere milliseconds before the horde of SQUIP Zombies descended upon Michael. Jeremy nearly fumbled the catch, a spike of anxiety shooting through him when he couldn’t see his friend anymore. Shit, they were going to Infect him! He just knew it! 

Jeremy wanted to charge in guns blazing and save Michael, but he couldn’t risk putting the last of the Mountain Dew Red in danger like that. You put on your own air mask before you help someone with theirs, right? He’d be of more help to Michael if he didn’t have to worry about control of his body falling into the hands of an omniscient, power-mad AI.

Jeremy's arm froze in midair before he could bring the bottle to his lips. Speak of the devil and of course it decides to be a bastard... "You don't want to drink that, Jeremy!"

"Why not?!" Jeremy snapped. He was typically better at just thinking at the SQUIP when he was in public, but it’d been on his last, ever-fraying nerve for even longer than he’d thought. He wouldn’t have been humoring it if he had any choice in the matter.

"Because then you'll never be with her!" Jeremy’s head suddenly jerked to one side, perfectly timed to see one of his castmates making her exit.

“Jeremy!”

He’d never heard her say his name in such an excited tone. “Christine?”

Christine beamed like the sun, her hands enveloping one of his. “Oh my gods, did you see me out there? The audience loved me!” she fawned, heartfelt and filled with emotion.

“I…” Jeremy didn’t know what to say and didn’t plan on taking suggestions from the voice that usually pitched them, “that’s- amazing. I-I mean of course they did. Why- why wouldn’t they?” He might’ve reveled in this kind of attention under normal circumstances, but his other hand was trembling against the technological resistance that tried to peel the bottle away from his chest. He couldn’t let himself forget about it.

Christine gave him a pouty smile that faltered slightly when she looked down at their joined hands. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

Jeremy made a face. “You? But why?”

“Because, silly!” Christine tugged on his hand playfully. “You were right, about how it feels? I feel…” she let out a blissful sigh, a blue sheen glossing over her eyes, “amazing.”

“NO!” Jeremy tore his hand out of hers too late to muffle himself. All this and some part of him still didn’t want to disrupt The Play.

Christine captured both hands this time, cupping them over the hold Jeremy had on the bottle. She didn’t even scold him for not keeping quiet backstage. “I thought it was Jake that I wanted,” she said quickly. “What girl wouldn’t want him, right? But I realized… it’s you. It was always you.”

Jeremy shook his head, terrified. “No… no that- that is not Christine.”

“I assure you, it is!” the SQUIP said with sickly earnest. Jeremy wondered if there was a faint echo that sounded eerily like his castmates. “Only her fears and insecurities have been removed.” 

It might as well have gleefully admitted to lobotomizing her. Jeremy couldn't confirm that it effectively hadn't. 

“I’ve never felt like this for anyone before,” Christine murmured softly, looking into the bottle like it was a crystal ball. “I thought I did, for Jake, but that… that wasn’t real. This is. I know it is.” She peered up at the apparent object of her affection with gooey heart eyes. “Jeremy, I love you.”

Jeremy's eyes widened, something pooling in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was a good feeling or not. “...what?” he breathed, so quiet that he didn't know if Christine even heard him.

“What do you say?” Christine smiled up at him, soft and sweet and adorable. “Lunch? Just the two of us?”

Jeremy blinked down at her. After toying with Brooke's feelings for almost two months and Chloe's whole thing on Halloween - fuck, just Halloween in general - he'd almost forgotten that Christine had been one of his main driving forces for getting the SQUIP in the first place. And now she was asking him out. She'd confessed to having feelings for him, surprisingly strong ones!

But something about it was just... sad. Why was it sad? Why was Jeremy sad? Wasn't this what he wanted? What he'd been fighting for all this time? What he blocked out his favorite person for? This was what he sacrificed his entire sense of self to obtain, wasn’t it? So why did it feel so… wrong?

A simulated hand gave him the artificial feeling of a pat on the shoulder. He knew why. “That’s your cue, slugger,” the SQUIP almost sang.

Jeremy swallowed thickly, voice wavering. “She’ll do whatever I want.” Christine gave a chaste, yet eager nod.

“That’s what I promised.” It sounded so innocently proud of such a horrific feat, like a cat that'd brought a dying bird to the doorstep, the poor creature’s blood staining the concrete as it struggled to cling onto each weak breath it took. But the cat didn't know that its act of affection wouldn't translate the way it thought it would. Or it didn't care; you could never really tell what was going on in the cat's head. 

Jeremy looked over Christine's head to see Michael struggling against Jake's hold on him from behind and the hand over his mouth. Squirming away from Brooke and Chloe clinging to an arm each. Trying to kick off the underclassmen latched onto his legs like overgrown toddlers. He couldn't hear the frantic pleas deadened beneath Jake's palm, but he saw the sheen of unshed tears behind Michael's glasses. The sleepless nights. The loneliness. The desperation. The 'please don't leave me again' that Michael surely wanted Jeremy to hear, all framed by the Midsummer Nightmare ensemble.

And Christine. Sweet, beautiful Christine that never asked for any of this. Never wanted to be idolized to the point that some geek would take a megalomaniacal computer inside a pill for the chance to date her. Never wanted high school popularity to seep into her life, but got roped into it when dating Jake. Just wanted to figure herself out without a relationship getting in the way. Currently had a computer in her own head telling her that this was good. This was what she wanted. This would make everything ok. 

It wouldn't. Jeremy knew firsthand that it wouldn't. He wished he could've accepted that sooner. Before this. Before Halloween. Before leading Brooke on. Before Rich came to him in the bathroom all those weeks back. Before people got hurt. He was… he was in too deep.

“Great...” Jeremy whispered. Seeing the peripheral pain in Michael's eyes as his chin dropped to his chest in hopeless defeat was like a knife twisting in his throat. He hadn’t known that The Play would come to this.

Jeremy tentatively reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Christine's ear, watching as her face drew nearer. If he actually liked her, even a little bit, even if it wasn’t the same way he’d thought for months on end… would he let her stay squipped? Let a computer dictate her life like he did his? Put her through even half the assault that he put himself through to get to this point? Christine didn't deserve this.

"Drink this."

His words echoed in the near-empty bottle as it was taken from his hands, its lip being the only thing that kept his and hers from connecting.

Christine didn’t deserve this.

But Jeremy did.

He deserved the shocks and the berating and every horrible thing that the SQUIP put him through. He didn't deserve to run back into Michael's life after throwing him aside like he hadn't been the most important person in his life. He never meant to rope Christine into his problems. The least he could do was spare her from the horrors that were to come.

Turned out that Jeremy had some self-sacrificial bullshit of his own. If only Michael hadn’t gotten in the crossfire.

The bottle dropped to the ground and the SQUIP's protests were quickly drowned out by Christine's screams. Then Chloe's. Brooke's. Jake's. Jeremy quickly couldn't differentiate them from the rest of the cast anymore. Then the splitting pain shot through his own head and his anguish was added to the choir of suffering. His body gave out beneath him. He didn't feel the landing, but white noise continued to screech in his ears. He heard calls of his own name, though from the SQUIP or from Michael, he couldn't place before the world went staggeringly quiet.

Quiet.

So.

So.

Quiet.

He'd… forgotten what quiet sounded like.

It was... he wanted to say it was nice, maybe.

It was scary too, though. But in the way that the ocean was scary. Knowing that too much exposure would suffocate you or drive you mad, but finding some calm in its company all the same.

Then he heard beeping. A soft, rhythmic sound to accompany the quiet he'd gone so long without. He imagined that the beeping could've also been maddening if endured for too long, but for now, it wasn't. It was enough to prevent the quiet from doing as much.

Then he heard steel drums, and a colorful collection of other instruments. Soon after, familiar vocals that his foggy mind couldn't recognize as lyrics just yet, though he was sure the singer was indeed singing words.

The music didn't overpower the beeping, though that didn't speak to the volume of the beeping. Just that among all the quiet, there was yet to be anything distinct enough to stick out above everything else. This was the kind of white noise that Jeremy hadn’t been predisposed to dread.

Then he heard humming.

It wasn't much louder than any of the other quiet sounds, but it was... familiar. A soft vibration near his ear that he could swear he'd heard somewhere before.

"Singin', 'don't worry about a thing," 

This voice did actually stick out above the others. It felt fuller and more real then the small harmonies that had initially been the main focus. They now sounded tinny and cold in comparison.

"Cuz every little thing is gonna be alright.'"

There seemed to be a slight weight that shifted near Jeremy's head. There was something vaguely comforting about it, despite not knowing what it was that had moved so close to him. Somehow, he knew it wasn’t dangerous. Like… like an old stuffed animal that had its designated space on the bed. A friend.

"Singin', 'don't worry about a thing," 

Jeremy felt a distant warmth. A hand cradling his own. A thumb brushing over his knuckles. Such a gentle feeling, like he was fragile and would turn to dust if someone so much as breathed on him. He’d known protection like that before. It got old at times, but here, now, it was the safety and security that he needed.

"Cuz every little thing is gonna be alright.'"

He found enough control in his fingers to weakly squeeze the hand holding his. It might've been little more than a twitch that he was able to give, but the tender hand keeping his own safe stiffened momentarily. It seemed like enough proof that he’d made the impression that he needed to.

"Jer?"

Jeremy stiffly turned his head and willed his eyes open with a groggy hum, his voice small and scratchy from disuse. How long had he been out? "Hey..."

He was met with Michael's head perched on the edge of his pillow, one earbud in his ear while the other was in Jeremy's. His glasses were askew from where he lay his head, his eyes wide and a worried crease between his brows. A weak chuckle fell from Michael's warbly smile. "There you are, you dumbass," he breathed as he reached out to pull Jeremy into a hug.

Jeremy took the gesture in kind, despite the oxygen tube going to his nose and the IV in his arm. The distance created from Michael sitting in a chair next to the bed added to the awkward positioning, but didn't deter him. “Everyone else came to within a couple hours,” Michael babbled breathily. “You were the only one that- I was so worried that you…” he let out a shaky sigh into Jeremy's shoulder. "You scared the shit outta me…”

"'M ok," Jeremy mumbled. He tugged Michael closer as best he could, considering he'd just regained consciousness after who knows how long. A while, based on how heavy he felt. "C'mere."

He seemed to get his point across, as Michael made clumsy work of navigating various tubes and crawling into bed next to him. His earbud fell out along the way and received an appropriate scowl of disapproval. Jeremy fished it out of the blankets with a smile and set it back into place when Michael settled next to him, his hand mindlessly lingering on his friend's cheek. Gods, he’d missed Michael so much…

If not for all the cotton in Jeremy's head, he would've spouted out seven million different apologies for everything that had happened since he’d taken the SQUIP. But since he felt like he could fall back asleep at any moment, all he could articulate was, "Thanks fer comin' back f'r my dumb ass."

Michael pushed some greasy hair out of Jeremy's eyes, a soft smile on his face. "Hey, man. What are friends for?"

"Not supercomputer fodder." And because Jeremy couldn't go more than a couple minutes without letting it be said, "'M sorry f'r bein' a dick. I was stupid, 'n whiny, and selfish, and-"

Michael pressed his fingers over Jeremy's mouth. "Shh, hey. Priorities, alright? Lemme enjoy this for a second. Then we can talk about how much of a dick you were. I’m just…" He looked tired, but so, so relieved. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

Jeremy wanted to protest, but Michael's arms enveloped him and he couldn't help but sink into his warm embrace in the cold hospital room. He sighed into the crook of Michael's neck, trying with the singular ounce of strength he had to squeeze him. Jeremy didn't want to let go of him ever again. “I’m glad you’re ok too.”

Michael breathed a chuckle. “I'm not the one that ate dirt on the stage floor and fucked off into a coma for a week.”

“I beat you up.”

“Barely. I think you did more damage to yourself than you did to me.”

Jeremy still cringed remembering the fight that he was forced to engage in. “Did I leave any marks?”

“Well ya got nasty friction burn on your arm, bruised up your knuckles pretty good-”

“On you, Michael.”

“Oh,” Michael drew back enough to actually see Jeremy's face. “The kick hurt for a couple'a days, but surprisingly didn't bruise. I uh… my knees are still purple from, ya know,” he suddenly got quieter, “dropping to your side when you passed out.”

The mental image was… conflicting. Imagining the sight of a terrified Michael didn't really comfort Jeremy, but understanding the context and knowing that his friend still cared about him… sort of did? It should've, but it didn't feel deserved. “What?” he peeped.

“You screamed bloody murder and then collapsed. I thought-” Michael's voice broke. He looked dangerously close to tears.

Jeremy had never seen Michael cry before. Never. It was close, right before he gave Christine the last drop of Red Dew, but obviously things got too hectic for him to check if Michael had actually shed any tears. For Jeremy to be the focal point of something so rare, if not unheard of was, he had to say, jarring.

“I didn't know what the Red would do,” Michael said quietly, managing to keep a weak but even tone, “like, beyond turning your SQUIP off- all of them at once, apparently. I just…” he had enough mind to push his glasses up to his forehead before he could stain the lenses with tear splotches, a choked noise catching in his throat, “you have no idea how relieved I was to hear a heartbeat.”

Jeremy was now wondering if he would also start up the waterworks. Even after shutting him out for weeks on end, calling him a loser when he was just trying to help, being a snark about getting the Red Dew when he did help, Michael still… “So you…”

“Held you until the paramedics came,” Michael murmured, sniffling. “And wasn’t fond of not being allowed to ride in the ambulance with you.”

Michael still went out of his way for Jeremy. It didn't matter if it was smarmy kids on the playground or a tyrannical tic tac in his brain; Michael chose to be by his side no matter what. He always did. It was always him. 

The distantly present beeping suddenly quickened. Jeremy was… still attached to a heart monitor, among other things. 

Michael looked between Jeremy and the machine behind him for a startled moment, shiny eyes slightly frantic. “Are you ok?”

Jeremy did little more than stare with a heating face. He hadn't anticipated being outed, in some small way, by medical equipment. “I…” tears weakened his already frail voice. He'd wondered how long it would take for them to finally slip through. Not long, unsurprisingly. “It's just r'lly great t'see you, man,” he warbled. 

A watery laugh managed to escape Michael's lips. “It's great to be seen.”

They fell into another, much weepier hug as Bob Marley continued to serenade them through their shared earbuds. Jeremy knew that eventually talking through everything that happened with the SQUIP would put them both through the emotional wringer, but he could say with a hopeful amount of confidence that things would be ok in the end. It was obvious enough that neither of them wanted to be without the other. 

‘Is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feelin’?’

Jeremy just hoped that the intensity of that sentiment was comparable between them.

Chapter Text

Jeremy was released from the hospital the next day once given the all clear. He was still a little slow in his movements, but he'd be over it quick as his muscles hadn't been in disuse long enough to atrophy. He stayed home from school as finally coming out of a coma was pretty good grounds to be excused. His dad stayed home as well, but under the grounds that his son had just come out of the hospital and not out of an unwillingness to leave the house. Jeremy could let it slide. And his dad was actually wearing pants, so he had little to actually complain about.

He spent the time laying in bed and going through all the messages that Michael had left him, as painful as it was to see increasingly frustrated texts about being ignored leading into urgent warnings of the dangers of having a SQUIP until things went eerily quiet after the last message on October thirty-first: a backhanded jab about seeing him at Jake Halloween party when Jeremy probably wouldn't see him. 

Jeremy debated on whether or not to message Michael while he was at school. He couldn't very well never text him again because seeing the long trail of unanswered messages filled him with too much shame to even open their conversation. Should he address it and apologize? Should he just text Michael as if things had never changed? Neither felt right, as one highlighted the problem more than he liked and the other just ignored it.

God, they really needed to talk about the SQUIP stuff. Actually talk. Not shelve it for another time because Michael wanted to celebrate his friend coming out of a coma before getting on his ass for being a dickhead. They couldn't put it off forever. It felt weird that they'd put it off this long. He couldn't just pretend that the SQUIP never happened when the aftershocks of its presence rattled through all their interactions thus far. 

Jeremy was a little surprised to see a video call come in from Michael a few minutes after the school day ended. He expected it to quickly end on account of being a misclick, but accepted the call when it didn't. “Hey.”

Michael was in the front seat of his car, not exactly looking the picture of energy and pep Jeremy typically knew him to be. Not like it was surprising, all things considered. “Hey, man. How ya feelin’?”

Jeremy gave a lazy peace sign. “Not dead yet.”

Michael nodded. “Good good, can't have ya bein’ dead.”

Jeremy considered making some witty remark about his coma, but couldn't think of how to phrase it, opting instead to lay on his side and pivot the conversation. “Video call, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh…” Michael looked anywhere but at his phone. At Jeremy. “I dunno, I guess I just wanted to see you,” as negated by the aforementioned not looking at Jeremy. “Since you didn't come to school today. Or all week.”

Jeremy figured out a way to be witty about the coma that didn't delve too deep into the morbidity of it. “Yeah, I'm a dick like that.”

Michael offered a weak laugh before clearing his throat. “But I called to ask if… ya know, if you're down for a sleepover. I get it if you need time on your own to decompress after,” he made a vague motion with his free hand, “all that though, so…”

The fact that Michael felt the need to ask spoke volumes to how long it'd been since their last sleepover, and how much he still wanted to have one. Jeremy had mixed emotions about it. “The answer would be yes on any other weekend, but my dad's being kinda…” overprotective wasn't the right word; it was a perfectly reasonable response given the circumstances, “he wants me home right now, after the whole coma thing.”

Michael nodded in understanding. “Can't say I blame him.” Fuck, he looked so sad… He really didn't want Michael to think that he was still trying to shut him out. Was there any way he could salvage this?

“Although you never specified where the sleepover would be,” Jeremy said slowly.

“Would your dad be cool with that? I mean I don't know why he wouldn't be.”

“Well I am technically grounded, but he never said from what.”

Michael shrugged nonchalantly, or as nonchalantly as he could pretend to. “Push comes to shove, I’ll just sneak in through your bedroom window.”

Jeremy smiled at the mental image. “I'd love to see you try.”

For the briefest of moments, Michael smiled back. “‘Kay, see you in like, soonish.”

“See you in soonish.”

The call ended and Jeremy was feeling… everything. Happy that Michael wanted to sleep over even after everything. Scared that it would grow awkward for one reason or another. Embarrassed that some small part of him was cooking up scenarios in his head where things, to put it bluntly, got gay. Disgusted with himself that he would want things to go there when Michael would have no reason to want to initiate such a thing. Completely and utterly horrified of the possibility of things falling through and losing Michael for good. 

He migrated downstairs to watch the window, catching his dad boiling a pot of water in his peripheral vision. He had actually made breakfast for the two of them that morning too. Just some scrambled eggs and toast, but it was nice to see his dad doing something other than ordering pizza for the first time in… a while. Not quite since his mom left, but still a considerable chunk of time. And Jeremy was never mad at the pizza, as it usually gave him leftovers to nuke in the morning before school, but there was a reason he ended up having dinner at Michael’s place more often than not.

“Heya, kiddo,” Mr. Heere greeted him from the kitchen. “You doin’ alright?”

Jeremy looked over briefly. “Yeah. Figured I could only rot in my room for so long before needing out.”

His dad nodded idly. “Good to see you out and about.”

Ok, so they still didn’t really know how to talk to each other. Michael had been able to give Jeremy’s dad a lot of context to the SQUIP situation while he was out, but they hadn’t been able to do a lot to approach it between all the hospital happenings. Things were going slowly, but they were going. His dad was cooking! And wearing pants in the house! Pajama pants, sure, but it was nice for Jeremy to not have to avert his gaze so adamantly.

Jeremy opened the door before Michael could even knock, clearly startling him. “Hey,” Michael said anyway. 

“Hey.” Jeremy realized he didn't have a followup and silently ushered him inside. 

“Hey?” Mr. Heere said from the kitchen. 

Shit, that was what Jeremy forgot to do. “It's uh, not weird if Michael stays over for the night, right? Since you wanted me to stay home?”

The man looked between the two boys. “Um, no, not at all.” He motioned to his steaming pot. “Pasta? It's nothing fancy, but if you're hungry.”

Michael dropped off his backpack by the couch. “Yeah, I could eat.”

It was technically an early dinner, but the eggs and toast had been a late breakfast for Jeremy and his dad, especially when compared to Michael needing to eat before the sun even came up. And chances were that Michael would end up snacking along with Jeremy into the early hours of the morning anyway, because they were nothing if not teenagers with broken sleep schedules and wacky metabolisms. Things were quiet, mostly with Michael mentioning bringing over the schoolwork that they’d both missed and saying that working on it would probably be the smart thing to do. Jeremy couldn’t tell how serious he was, or if they’d be able to commit to the work after the fucky week they both had.

There wasn’t a ton of cleanup as dishes went, as there was no sauce that needed rinsing before sticking everything in the dishwasher, so the boys were free to go up into Jeremy’s room. It was starting to get dark, only because it was late November and sunset was officially before five o’clock now. So any motivation that the two of them did have to be productive and get some schoolwork done was pissed away by the waning sunlight. They tried. Not very hard, but their teachers didn't know that.

They decided they’d had their fill of being productive humans for the day and that they deserved the time to decompress and go into weekend mode. They didn’t really have the brain power to start up any video games, and Jeremy might’ve been grounded from them anyway, so they didn’t have many ideas for what else was on the agenda.

Michael hummed in thought as he rubbed his hands over his jeans. “It occurs to me that I haven't had to bring pjs here in so long that I didn't think to grab any before coming over here.”

“Oh, uh,” Jeremy reached into a laundry basket he hadn't gotten around to sorting before the night of The Play. He pulled out a worn X-Men shirt and some flannel pajama pants, both of which were too big for him. “Here. I accidentally wore them home last time we were at your place. And, ya know, shit got in the way of giving them back to you.”

“Huh,” Michael took the items and looked them over. “I know I gave you a lot of clothes that I outgrew freshman year, but I didn't realize you liked my wardrobe enough to steal from me.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the warmth pooling into his cheeks and the way that this basket held more of Michael's shirts than it did his own. “You didn't notice I was still wearing them either.”

Michael bumped his shoulder affectionately as he went into the bathroom to change. Jeremy knew that Michael was changing into his own clothes, but Jeremy having been in possession of them was… it shouldn’t have felt any different than when he borrowed them from Michael in the first place. Well, it should’ve felt different. It should’ve felt normal. Borrowing the clothing had been the weird part. And the way that Jeremy had been doing it for two years now should’ve tipped him off that ‘hey, what guy feels giddy about wearing his best friend’s clothes to bed and doesn’t figure that something gay is going on?’  

Realistically, Jeremy had picked up on the gay undertones long ago. He just ignored it because this was different. This was normal for them. This was just the kind of friendship they had. And that was probably all it was. All that it would be. Why would Michael read any deeper into it when it was just how they were? Vaguely homoerotic but not actually acting on anything because they were just abnormally close as friends due to having basically nobody else. Michael had more connections than Jeremy - his hookup at Spencer’s, his weed dealer, Warcraft friends, the girl at Sev-Elev - but Michael had made it clear that Jeremy was different. They’d been together practically their whole lives, of course he was different, hence things getting oddly tender between them at times. Sharing clothes, cuddling, shotgunning with those weird not-kisses that they never addressed afterward, it was just the way their friendship worked.

Maybe Jeremy had known he liked Michael for a while but just never did anything about it. Never thought about it hard enough to sigh about how it would never happen, because he got a level of intimacy far greater than what they shared as kids. Greater than what most teen boys shared with each other, if toxic masculinity and the interactions between Rich and Jake were anything to go off of. It was no wonder so many people had suspected they’d been dating for years. Or at least joked about it to the point of spawning the scrawlings on both their current backpacks and the ones from last year. (Jeremy realized that Rich - or at least Rich’s SQUIP - was being subtle with NOH OMO. Boyf Riends was the more obnoxiously obvious younger cousin.)

Michael emerged from the bathroom in pjs and dropped his clothes on top of the schoolwork shoved haphazardly back into his backpack. “So, you wanna start up a movie or something? And do you wanna watch downstairs on the TV or just hide up here and-”

“I think-” Jeremy cleared his throat. If he didn’t bring this up now, he didn’t know if he ever would. “I think we need to talk about the… grey, oblong elephant in the room.”

Michael stopped and tilted his head. “The…”

“The… SQUIP. Incident. Squ… squipcident, I guess you could call it.” The wordplay felt cheesy, but it was less of a mouthful.

“Oh.” Michael awkwardly sat against the headboard while Jeremy sat at the foot of the bed. “Yeah, uh. Sadistic Siri probably blocked me from your vision, right?”

Jeremy continued to be surprised about just how much credible knowledge of can’t-even-look-it-up-on-the-internet-shit Michael had been able to gather from third-hand information. “Yeah, it uh. It did.”

Michael nodded to himself. “I kinda figured after a while. I theorized, but my Warcraft friend confirmed that, yeah, a SQUIP can just do that. With or without your permission.”

“I'm sorry for-”

“It's ok, man. I get it.”

Jeremy blinked. “You get- what?? No, it's not ok. I left you completely alone for weeks!”

“It was inside your head, dude,” Michael said tiredly. “It was fucking with you. I can't blame you for being psychologically toyed with and led to think that… you know, whatever, I wasn't good to have around. It’s alright, really.”

Jeremy was gobsmacked that his friend was just brushing it off. Especially when he’d been so adamant on getting an apology during The Play. “Michael, I let it block you. I mean not at first, but once I knew what it was doing, I… I let it. I willingly shut you out. And I'm sorry. I never should’ve put popularity or a potential date above you.”

Michael only shrugged. “How much of a choice did it really give you? Who's to say it wouldn't have continued erasing me anyway without your knowledge?”

“Whether or not it would've, I still knew! I still made the choice to ignore you. The SQUIP just made it impossible for me not to.”

“Which meant you couldn't choose to stop ignoring me,” he pointed out. “You weren't fully in control.”

This… this wasn’t what Jeremy had expected. He expected Michael to get mad at him again, or at least be something other than dismissive of the fact that he was a dick. “I- Michael, I wasn't being mind controlled. I was fully aware of what I was doing! I chose to block you and you probably would've stayed blocked if not for the little stunt up in Jake's parents’ room.”

“Wait, you actually slept with Chloe??”

“No! She just made everyone think we did! And- shit, if the SQUIP hadn't made me drink and turned itself off, it could've forced me to sleep with her!”

The true weight of those words didn't really hit Jeremy until he saw Michael's face drop in horror. The SQUIP could've… Jeremy wouldn't have been able to do anything. He hadn’t really… thought about it that hard before now. It had gone by too fast for the reality of the situation to truly set in. Holy shit, he was almost… He could’ve been…

“Jer?” Michael ventured. Jeremy could tell that he was just barely containing his righteous fury. He’d never been fond of people hurting his friend, whether it be psychologically or physically. “What happened before you ran into the bathroom?”

Jeremy stared at one of the pillows on the bed. “Chloe… she did drag me away with intentions, but never followed through. Not… all the way.”

Michael licked his teeth as he thought of a delicate way to phrase his next thought. “If it’s not too much to ask, what… did she do?”

“She… she kissed me, and,” Jeremy made a vague motion at his neck, “a little bit, but- but that was it. Nothing else. I think… I think she could sorta tell there was a whole thing going on in my head and dialed back. She wasn’t that committed to jumping my bones.”

“So she…”

“Just made a lot of noise and riled Jake up. Then fucked him instead, like I’m sure she actually wanted.” Jeremy shook his head. “That’s not- look, it’s not ok that I blocked you, alright? The SQUIP may have pulled the trigger, but I gave it the gun. I’m just as much at fault as it is.”

“I-” Michael gave a curt sigh, “sure, but- look, I’ve gained a lot of perspective after you were unconscious for a week. I just- I’m glad you’re back, alright? I just wanna forget that shit ever happened and, ya know, try to make things normal again.”

“Dude-”

“Jeremy, I don’t want to think about how that thing was in your head. The thing that drove a man into a mental hospital. It could’ve made you crazy too!”

“You said he went crazy trying to get it out.”

“Same fucking difference. It broke his brain! I don’t want to think about how it could’ve broken yours too.”

Michael worried about Jeremy so much. Even now, when the danger was gone and he had the opportunity to be rightfully angry with him. It wasn’t fair. “That’s a hypothetical, man. I’m talking about what I did. I abandoned you just to get the attention of- of kids. Kids that didn’t care we existed, for the most part. I chased after preps and dicks and a girl I barely knew when I had you.”

“It’s not like you can just have me. You deserve to have other connections too.”

“Not at your expense! Do you realize how scummy that was of me?? You should be furious at me! I'm furious at me!”

Michael threw his hands up in a shrug, finally cracking. “You know, maybe I should be. I should be! I was! That pissed off monologue that I spared you from on Halloween? I'd been writing that since you first stopped responding to my texts. I was so angry that you wouldn't even grace me with- with an explanation. A reason, a goodbye, a fuck you, a something! Anything! I felt like after twelve years, I deserved that much! But if I wasn't worth that kind of decency, then obviously those twelve years didn't mean as much to you as they did to me!”

Guilt stabbed Jeremy in the stomach. Wasn't this what he'd asked for? “Mi-”

Michael held up a finger indicating that he wasn't done, taking in a breath and slowing down. His tone softened as well. “But then The Play happened. And I saw that you still cared about me. You never stopped caring about me. You were fighting for your life just to spit out an apology that could've waited. You didn't want this any more than I did. You wanted to go back to what we had. You were…” he paused. “You were still my Player Two. Despite AI conditioning and-and brain altering, I hadn't been completely written out of the equation. Through some fucking miracle.”

Jeremy wondered if the SQUIP really could've written Michael out of his memory for good if it wanted to. He wondered if Michael had worried the same thing. He wondered if his worries had been proven plausible through his research. With Jeremy's anecdotal experience and Michael’s pre-existing knowledge of optic nerve blocking, he was chilled to admit that he wouldn't be surprised.

The softness in Michael's tone dripped into something… not darker, but less fond. “Then you screamed bloody murder and collapsed on the stage floor. You spent the night in the hospital. And you didn't wake up in the morning. For a whole day. Two. Three.”

It got noticeably more difficult for Michael to speak. “And I was terrified that you never would. That I had spent so long sulking and seething instead of helping you. I only went to The Play because your dad came along and asked me for help! And he had to agree to start wearing pants! And… and grappling with the idea of you dying after I'd been petty and angry for weeks on end… I hated myself more than I hated you that… entire time you were squipped. You had technology meddling around in your brain and I didn't.”

“It was turned off on Halloween,” Jeremy interjected. “That was me in the bathroom. I said all of that stuff.”

“And you weren't right with some of it?! Never mind that I was acting all salty, your actual real response to seeing me again was a dopey smile and ‘it's just really great to see you, man.’ I'm the one that riled you up!”

“You were trying to help me!”

“You were right to want more than what I could give you! You deserved to have more friends and a girlfriend and- and some part of me was jealous! You weren't wrong!”

“You weren't-” This wasn't what Jeremy had wanted. He wanted Michael to go off on him, not himself. “You didn't make up all that stuff out of malice. You were actually concerned for the future of my mental wellbeing and I blew you off! You're not the one in the wrong here!”

“I'm sure as hell not in the right!”

“You didn't erase me from your vision for two months!”

“I didn't save you for two months!”

“Could you have??”

“Probably! Crystal Pepsi isn't the only thing my hookup got me.”

Jeremy arched a brow. “I don't imagine you knew Mountain Dew Red would shut the SQUIPs down the same day you found out what a SQUIP even was.”

“‘Bout a month later,” Michael shrugged. “Still plenty of time to force it down your throat before Halloween could happen. Coulda saved us a lot of grief.”

“Michael, you were right to be mad at me! Any sane person would be! You were never obligated to-”

“We were both shitty,” Michael insisted, “ok, that's the point I'm trying to make! I didn't end this shit earlier and you treated me like I didn’t exist! You left with no warning while I had to ruminate on where the fuck I went wrong when every single thing I did, I did for you! And it still wasn't enough! Of course it wasn't! I can't give you what they can! I'm not-”

Michael's voice gave out, his eyes now filled with tears. Whatever he tried to say next only came out as a sob.

Jeremy's heart stopped and shattered and sank all at once. While the second time he'd officially seen Michael cry, this was the first time he was the one at fault. 

As far as he knew.

Halloween was so…

So…

This… probably wasn't the first time…

“Michael…” Jeremy moved onto his knees and came closer to his friend, hands hovering over him like something hot not meant to be touched.

Michael pushed his glasses up with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit, I told myself I wasn't gonna cry about this anymore…”

‘Anymore.’

Definitely not the first time. 

“Hey,” Jeremy took one hand in his own and lightly pushed the other away from Michael’s face, cupping his cheek. He felt his heart crawl up into his throat seeing his friend's eyes reddened by tears. “So many things have hurt us over the years.” He swiped at a tear trailing down Michael’s face, his voice faltering to a whisper. “I never wanted to be one of the things that hurt you.”

Michael sniffled, laying his hand over the one cupping his face and squeezing the other one. Jeremy continued, “I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't mean anything. You mean… you mean worlds to me, Micha. You… basically were my world, before all of this.”

His heart pounded as he forced himself to maintain eye contact. “I just hope I can still be part of yours, if you… if you want me to be.”

Michael answered by pulling Jeremy into a poorly positioned hug, one that was made slightly more comfortable by Jeremy settling down to straddle Michael's lap instead of hovering above him. He cried into Jeremy's shoulder and clung to the back of his jacket like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

Jeremy squeezed his arms around Michael's shoulders, wanting more than anything to make up for the unending isolation and heartache he inflicted upon his best friend. The person that, in hindsight, probably wasn't solely a best friend to him. He'd never been good at imagining a future without Michael, even as Christine started taking up more estate in his mind. He was probably better at imagining futures where it was just him and his Player One, as that was all he'd known for the longest time. 

He really didn't know how he hadn't connected the dots sooner. Or maybe his brain refused to accept that those dots connected at all. Either way, he really should've suspected there was something lingering under the surface sooner.

Michael squirmed under his friend, Jeremy taking this to mean that he was done with the hug. But Michael kept his arms securely around Jeremy. 

“Wh… what is this? What are we doing?”

“Legs are falling asleep,” Michael mumbled, swallowing phlegm. “I don't wanna stop. Just reposition.”

Jeremy lifted his butt up so that Michael could get comfortable. Michael spread his knees apart but kept his feet close together, forming what could best be described as a nest for Jeremy to settle into. It didn't allow for him to stay on his knees, so his legs were loosely wrapped around Michael's hips with his feet still planted on the mattress. The new position lost the extra height Jeremy had gained from sitting on Michael's thighs, making Michael lose access to a face-height shoulder to bury his nose into; he would have to hunch down if he wanted it now.

Jeremy took Michael's face in his hands again, pressing their foreheads together. Michael tried evening out his breathing after spending the last few minutes crying. The tears had slowed significantly, but they'd yet to fully stop. His hands settled for resting on either side of Jeremy's waist, thumbs rubbing at the fabric of his jacket.

Jeremy's chest hurt. He hated that he’d been the cause of Michael’s tears and wanted desperately to be the reason they went away as well. He didn’t know how he was meant to do that though. He just knew that he wanted Michael to know that he didn’t mean any less to him now than before the SQUIP, and arguably meant more. Or in any case, Jeremy had a better understanding of what specifically Michael meant to him.

And then he was kissing Michael before the spray bottle of common sense could spritz him like the impulsive cat that he was, at which point he was hit with three consecutive spritzes in the form of the one that should’ve come two seconds before he could act on his thoughtless idea, the one that came from Michael stiffening and not kissing back, and the one that sneered ‘what the fuck were you thinking’ into his ear because of course he wouldn’t kiss back.

This all transpired within the span of a single second before Jeremy jolted back in horror at his own actions. “Shit- I’m so sorry, I- I wasn’t thinking! That was stupid- and right after you were crying too, fuck, I was- I didn't mean to spring this on-”

Michael's lips captured Jeremy's this time, arms snaking further around his waist and pulling him close. Jeremy's hands clutched the patches on Michael's shoulders in shock for a moment before looping around his neck with a contented sigh. There was still residual moisture on Michael’s face from his tears, but Jeremy couldn’t quite tell if they’d returned or not. All he knew was that this felt… right. Like they should've been kissing for years. It could've been the prolonged brushes of contact during nights of shotgunning talking, but it was clear that it was only partially responsible, the more Jeremy thought about it.

He threaded his fingers through Michael's hair like Michael had done for him countless times before, gently scratching at his scalp. Michael leaned deeper into the kiss as he dragged a hand up and down Jeremy's back, sending a shiver up his spine. Jeremy didn't want this moment to end, and he suspected the sentiment was shared between the both of them given Michael's sudden enthusiasm. Actually…

Jeremy cursed his need to breathe and parted the smallest amount possible. “How long have you wanted this?”

Michael’s lips ghosted over Jeremy's, clearly not wanting further distance between them either. “Too long.” His voice was warbly from still recovering from tears. “Years. Like… middle school?”

“Fuck, man…” Jeremy cringed at just how much hopeless pining for girls Michael would've had to sit through with sealed lips. All his catastrophizing about how no one would ever date him when a willing candidate was sitting right next to him. That must've been torture. “This whole time?”

Michael swallowed with a nod. “What about you?”

Jeremy thought back to all those fantasies that he'd always written off. When had he had the first one? Did they extend to even before he began really questioning his sexuality? Did it not count because he hadn't taken them seriously before The Play? “I wish I knew… Long enough, I guess.”

Michael hummed in acknowledgement. “Good enough for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Jeremy pulled Michael back in with no spray bottle in sight to deter him. Michael’s hands continued to map out every inch of Jeremy's back as they kissed, even traveling up enough to brush the nape of his neck. It was all so overwhelming in the best way Jeremy could've ever imagined and they were still fully clothed. He tried not to let his imagination go too wild as his dad was still right downstairs. He was surprised he hadn’t come by to check on them after all the yelling.

Jeremy didn't know what he was doing; he didn't exactly get a crash course on how to kiss from the SQUIP, and hated the imagery that such a concept conjured up. But he didn't care. It was Michael, his favorite person. It was more perfect than he could've ever imagined it. He wished he'd acted on his impulsive urges earlier. Way, way earlier.

Michael pulled back slightly, the smile on his lips being the only indicator that he was currently laughing and not crying. “Sorry, I just thought of something stupid.”

Jeremy's eyes fluttered open. He wasn't sure if Michael had ever looked prettier. “What is it?”

Michael brushed his nose against Jeremy's. “Remember how you asked if you left any marks on me after that fight during The Play?”

“Yeah?”

“You can leave a mark now if you want.” He wiggled his eyebrows to further his point.

“Oh my gods,” Jeremy hid his heating face against Michael’s shoulder, which shook with laughter.

“Sorry,” Michael said again, patting Jeremy’s back, “I just thought that was really funny.”

“Not that I’m not willing, but-”

His hand stopped. “What?”

Jeremy’s head shot up, momentarily horrified. “Wait, were you not serious?”

Michael’s mouth hung open for a second, his face quite a bit redder than Jeremy remembered it being. “I wasn’t… not serious? I was just- I didn’t think you’d like, jump on the idea? That quickly? Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Did the heater turn on? It seems abnormally warm in here, dontcha think?”

Jeremy was stunned to see Michael so cartoonishly flustered. To have caused him to be so cartoonishly flustered. He didn’t know he had that kind of power over anyone, even his own friend. Although he didn’t know if Michael had started leaning into a bit toward the end or not, so he couldn’t really tell how much power he did have.

Jeremy chewed on his lip, pressing his forehead to Michael’s. “The same offer extends to you,” he said under his breath, “for what it’s worth.”

Michael’s hands went down Jeremy’s sides and settled on his hips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He reconnected their lips and the time passed in a blissful haze.

Jeremy hadn't expected today to go how it did. Michael video called him, came over for a sleepover for the first time in years, had a fight with him about the squipcident, cried in his arms, responded to getting kissed with kissing back, confessed to wanting to kiss him for years… it was a lot. A great ending, but a roller coaster of events to get there.

But Jeremy didn't think there was a better ending that he could've hoped for. He got to tell Michael what he really meant to him (well, show him,) and he was lucky enough to hold the same meaning to him. They got to hold and kiss one another and eventually fall asleep completely entangled knowing that what they felt wasn't unrequited, just as they'd wanted to for upwards of five years.

And, ok, maybe they did end up leaving a couple of marks on each other.