Like Mother, Like Son

“Michael?”

“Down here!”

Jeremy blindly ran his hand along the wall until his fingers felt the lightswitch. He had no idea how Michael managed walking down in the dark, but Jeremy wasn’t taking any chances. Flicking the switch up, the staircase below him lit up. Jeremy gently closed the basement door behind him, then began to trudge down the carpeted stairs. As he reached the landing, he instinctively ducked his head to miss the hanging bulb. Jeremy started to step into the basement, but as he lifted his head he found himself frozen in place.

It was dark down here too. The string of lights hung haphazardly around the basement were one of the few sources of light, the white dots reflecting off the shiny surface of movie posters. The neon Pac-Man sign flickered above the television. Jeremy could just make out outlines of board games lined up on shelves and video cases scattered on the floor. Completing the picture was the hunched figure of one Michael Mell sitting in front of the television, his back towards Jeremy. The buzz of the old tube TV competed with the quiet huffs of his best friend. It was all exactly how he remembered it.

Jeremy sighed. Every time he came down here, he was reminded of how much he had missed the warm atmosphere of this room. Turning his attention to the television, Jeremy leaned over the railing. He squinted.

“Mario 64?”

“Aw, man, I know, right?” replied Michael, his eyes not leaving the screen. “I was organizing some shit while I was waiting for you and I found the cartridge stuffed behind the DVD case.” Jeremy could hear the grin in his voice as Chill Bully finally succumbed to its fate at the bottom of the lake. As Mario backflipped into the Power Star, Michael finally turned to face Jeremy. Eyebrow cocked, he rested his arm on the back of the couch. His controller dangled loosely from his hand. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya, buddy?”

Jeremy snorted as he hopped off the last step, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it next to Michael’s as he passed. “Dude, that was, what? Like, eight years ago?”

“Yeah, eight years ago when you cockblocked me and Gay Bowser!” Michael’s eyes followed Jeremy as he flopped onto the couch. Jeremy started to fire back a response, but no words came out as he locked eyes with Michael.

His best friend’s face was barely illuminated by the screen, casting his familiar features in a soft glow. Strands of dark, tousled hair stuck to his forehead, the slight sheen highlighting the crinkle in his eyes and the slight furrow of his brows. Michael’s glasses started to slip down his nose, but he stubbornly held his glare. In a different life, Jeremy might have been worried that Michael was actually annoyed. But despite the bite in his voice, there was a twitch in Michael’s frown. He had always been terrible at lying. So Jeremy stared. He couldn’t help it, really. Fortunately for him, though, Jeremy.exe rebooted just in time to notice Michael’s playful demeanor slipping into concern. Jeremy averted his gaze, ignoring the warm prickle on the back of his neck.

“You still have no proof I hid it and you know it,” Jeremy replied, bouncing his foot on the shag carpet. He stole a quick glance at Michael. He looked unimpressed. “Besides, you were playing it way too much.” His fingers fumbled with a button on his cardigan as the words tumbled out. “We were, like, never hanging out.”

Jeremy felt the lead in his lungs lessen as Michael scoffed loudly.

“Okay, one: it wasn’t my fault it’s a one player game and two: you totally hid it!”

“One player game for Player One,” Jeremy grumbled, the ghost of his younger self on his tongue.

“Oh, shut uppp,” Michael whined, pulling apart Jeremy’s crossed arms. Jeremy huffed and pushed Michael off him, who huffed louder and pushed back harder. Jeremy caught himself on the arm of the couch, pulling a face as Michael laughed. He felt a reluctant smile bubble up as Michael’s arm snaked around his shoulders. “Mario’s not shit without Luigi, everyone knows that,” Michael hummed, his breath on Jeremy’s ear. He wondered if Michael felt the shiver too.

“Tell that to Luigi.” His voice wavered.

“Uh, I just did,” Michael said, squeezing Jeremy’s shoulder. The pressure was soon gone and Jeremy felt its absence. “So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Apocalypse?” Michael started to get up to turn off the N64, but Jeremy reached forward and grabbed his sleeve.

“Nah, dude, just-just keep playing. I wanna see you kick Bowser’s ass.”

Michael snorted as he slowly sat back down. “You sure? I still got a little bit 'til the end.”

“Yeah, man. Consider it... closure. A compromise between me and Gay Bowser.”

“Oh, so you totally admit you’re the one who hid it then?”

“I, uh, plead the fifth?”

“Dude, bullshit.”

As Michael settled back in, Jeremy felt himself sink further into the cushions. The couch was old, old as fuck to be exact, and the two of them usually ended up sliding into the middle of it. Neither really minded, though, except for the occasional elbow one had to avoid whenever the other got a little too rowdy with the controller. Personal space was, in general, pretty uncommon between the two of them, which made the past few weeks even more confusing for Jeremy. As the next couple hours passed, he found his attention towards the TV drifting to Michael more and more frequently.

Michael was slightly hunched over, elbows resting on his knees as his fingers lazily mashed buttons. The tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth, a habit set in stone back in elementary school. It was a familiar sight. One that, if Jeremy was completely honest, he had never really taken time to appreciate. But after experiencing life without Michael, he was suddenly picking up on all these little details that had been passing him by. And honestly? It was a little overwhelming at times. After twelve years of thinking you knew absolutely everything about your best friend, acknowledging that their raspy voice during a late night phone call has always made your hands clammy and their smile has always made your stomach hurt is, well, a process. Jeremy picked at the hem of his shirt. Michael had always kept Jeremy grounded. But lately? He felt dizzy. Michael probably didn’t even realize it, either, as he sat there with his tousled hair and cherry-stained lips -- What?

Jeremy blinked hard, his thoughts almost distracting him from the buzzing in his back pocket. Pulling himself up slightly to reach his phone, he settled back down and unlocked it to see a text from Christine.

From Christiiiine: Jeremy! Are you with Michael???

To Christiiiine: Yeah, we’re chillin’|

Jeremy felt something in his chest tighten as he backspaced.

To Christiiiine: Yeah, we’re hanging in his basement. What’s up?

From Christiiiine: Jake wants us all to come over next weekend! Neither one of you were responding to the group chat so I figured I would come straight to the source. =)

Jeremy backed out of the conversation to check the group chat. Sure enough, Jake was rounding up the squad for games and pizza at his place. Jeremy vaguely remembered opening the messages on his way to Michael’s, but for some reason forgot to respond the moment he read “i better see the boyfs there too uwu.” Weird. Opening back up his and Christine’s conversation, Jeremy leaned forward and rested his chin on Michael’s shoulder. He felt a sudden spike of tension under the red hoodie, but it melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“Are you up for Jake’s next weekend?” Jeremy asked. He pointed his phone towards Michael, who glanced at the screen.

“Yeah, man, that sounds cool.” Michael’s face scrunched up as Mario fell off the cliff. “Jake owes me at least four rounds of pool by now."

To Christiiiine: You can count both of us in. :)

From Christiiiine: Yay!!!!

Jeremy turned his phone on silent, then reached over and set it facedown on the coffee table. Michael glanced at him, catching his smile.

“Y’know,” Michael said, “I’m really glad you and Chris are still cool after everything.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Their break up had been on good terms. Christine had taken his hand gently, pulling him into the empty auditorium before the spring auditions. There, under the low lights of the stage, she stumbled over words as she described a feeling Jeremy was all too familiar with: Uncertainty.

“I thought I knew what I wanted,” she had confessed, “but I’ve realized I’m still trying to find myself. And I thought at first that I could do both, be with you and figure things out, but I know now that what I need to figure out is something I have to do on my own. ” He remembered her grabbing his hand, squeezing it tight just like Christine always did. “I’m so glad I found you, Jeremy, I really am. And I want you in my life because you are just the best and I always have so much fun hanging out with you, it’s just --”

“Our roles were miscast,” Jeremy had offered gently, smiling in the small, awkward way he always did.

He remembered Christine’s watery smile as she hugged him tight. He remembered tearing up a bit himself. He had felt the same for a while too, but was too afraid of letting her go… of making everything that had happened be in vain. So he was glad that Christine had been the brave one.

Michael’s voice pulled Jeremy out of his thoughts. “I really didn’t want to have to choose between the two of you. Not to spoil anything, but you definitely wouldn’t have liked the outcome.”

“Very funny,” Jeremy huffed, elbowing Michael’s side. Michael laughed, eyes scrunched up tight and tongue peeking out between his teeth. Jeremy swallowed.

This shit wasn’t fair.

Fifteen minutes later, Bowser finally met his demise.

“So long, Gay Bowser!” Michael yelled, his fist raised to the ceiling. Jeremy rolled his eyes, holding back laughter.

“So. After eight years of waiting, how does it feel?”

“Beating Gay Bowser? Like I’ve become stronger, but, like, in a gay way.” Michael narrowed his eyes as he wiggled his fingers. “I’ve absorbed his gay powers and become, like, a level six homo.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Only level six? I’m pretty sure you passed that level after you started pointing to your patch and going, "I wear this because I am gay" to strangers in the hall.”

Michael shook his head. “Nah, that doesn’t count. I was high as fuck and conveniently forgot about my soul-crushing, debilitating social anxiety.”

“And also the fact that you came out, like, four years earlier?”

“That too.”

Michael and Jeremy shared a warm smile, basking in each other’s company. However, Michael soon pulled out of Jeremy’s gaze and checked the time on his phone. “That didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Finally up for some zombie slaying?”

“You know it.”

Michael grinned. “Sweet.”

Four hours later, both boys were pizza’d out, game’d out, and finally documentary’d out.

“I don’t know why I let you drag me into this, Michael,” Jeremy said, tossing a popcorn kernel at his head. It bounced off Michael’s glasses and onto the floor, joining the dozen or so other kernels that had met the same fate. Michael rolled his eyes.

“I’m telling you, man, this nature shit is dope. You just gotta give it a chance.”

“I think I’ve given nature plenty of chances not to be freaky and weird. Did you see what that thing was doing to its mate?”

“Ha, ha. Well, lucky for you it’s over.” Michael tapped the remote and the TV went black. “You’re free from my evil educational clutches, Heere! Go! Save yourself!” Jeremy’s laughter soon evolved into a yawn.

“It’s… actually getting pretty late. I’m sure my dad wants me home for curfew soon.”

Michael didn’t respond for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jeremy sighed. He was tired, sure, but he didn’t really want to leave. One of the downsides of having your dad work on being a better parent, he guessed. Pushing himself off the floor, Jeremy forced himself to slip on his backpack and prepare the treacherous climb up the stairs. As he turned around to say goodbye, he saw Michael standing behind him, keys in one hand and the other rubbing his eye under his glasses. He quickly put two and two together.

“Aw, you don’t have to drive me, Michael.”

“It’s fine, Jer. My mom would probably kill me if she knew I let you walk home this late.”

That was… totally true, actually. Still. “Are you sure?”

Michael yawned. “'Course. I’ll meet you up there in a sec.”

Jeremy slowly made his way up the stairs, through the dark house, and out the front door. Heading to the passenger side of Michael’s car, Jeremy took a moment to look around. The sky was clear that night, the cool wind gently blowing through his hair. The streetlamps glowed up and down the block, casting shadows throughout the neighborhood. Taking in the calmness of the night, Jeremy only caught the last part of Michael’s question.

“--get in?”

Jeremy jumped, his fingers gripping the straps of his backpack tight. He looked around for the cause of the noise, but Michael spoke again.

“Jer?”

Jeremy tilted his head to peer into the open window of the PT Cruiser. Michael was in the driver’s seat, leaning over the passenger’s side with a small frown.

“Yea-yeah?” Jeremy managed to get out. The wind felt cold on his face.

“I said, are you gonna get in?”

“Oh. Oh, right. Yeah.” Jeremy fumbled with the handle, swinging the door open and nearly toppling into the passenger seat. Michael jerked back into his own seat, barely avoiding getting sat on. Jeremy felt his eyes on him as he missed the seat belt buckle the third time, but Michael didn’t say anything. On the fifth try, Jeremy got it. Bracing himself, he made eye contact with Michael. Jeremy felt the prickle on his skin flare up as he saw the tender smile on his face.

“We good?”

Jeremy swallowed and nodded. He had never really cared about embarrassing himself in front of Michael before, but the last few weeks Jeremy couldn't help but feel like he needed to be absolutely not-weird and not-panicky and especially not-splotchy or Michael would immediately regret being friends with him again. God, it even sounded stupid when he thought about it, but he couldn't help it. Why couldn't he just be more ch--

Michael slowly reached forward, his hand hovering over Jeremy’s shoulder. Michael waited patiently until Jeremy closed his eyes and nodded. As Michael’s hand gently squeezed his shoulder, Jeremy felt some of the pressure building in his chest start to disappear. His hand stayed there as Jeremy breathed in and out, his thoughts focusing on the hand tethering him back to the ground.

After a few minutes, his breathing grew steady.

“Good?” Michael asked again, his voice gentle.

“Good,” Jeremy breathed.

“Good.” Michael’s eyes drifted down to where his hand still rested on Jeremy’s shoulder. He pulled his hand back and Jeremy felt that strange absence again. Soon, the old Cruiser rumbled to life. Tugging at a loose string in his cardigan, Jeremy waited for the car to pull out of the driveway, but Michael’s hands were still on the wheel. Before he could ask, Michael spoke up.

“Wanna listen to something?”

“Oh. Sure.” His eyes met Michael’s and he couldn’t help but mirror the small smile on his best friend’s face.

Michael leaned over and started fiddling with the car radio. After skipping a few channels, he finally landed on a station he seemed to approve of. He turned the volume up, just enough for the both of them. As Jeremy let himself be pulled in by the music, Michael pulled out of the driveway.

“Hey,” a voice softly called. “We’re here.”

Jeremy looked up to see that they were already parked in front of his house. It was dark inside except for a single light shining through the first floor curtains. His dad was probably still up, waiting to make sure he got home safe. Jeremy hoped he wasn’t too worried.

“Thanks for the ride,” Jeremy offered, watching as Michael turned the engine off.

“No problem, man,” Michael replied, dimming the headlights. He turned to face Jeremy, his face illuminated by the moonlight overhead. The soft glow made him look almost… angelic. Jeremy smiled to himself. That was a pretty accurate way to describe Michael, huh?

Well, when he wasn't being a little shit.

“Dude, what’s up?” Michael asked, tilting his head. “You got that dopey look on your face again.”

Jeremy almost choked. Again? “I’m just-just real tired, man. It’s been a long day.”

Michael chuckled. “You should probably get some sleep, then.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Jeremy unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the handle. Pausing, he turned to face Michael again. “And, uh. Thanks for, y’know, helping. Earlier.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but to Jeremy’s surprise he watched as Michael unbuckled his seat belt, leaned forward, and pulled Jeremy into a hug instead. Suddenly engulfed by the strong smell of coconut shampoo, Jeremy instinctively buried his face into Michael’s hoodie so he wouldn’t feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. The Squip incident was three months ago, and sure, him and Michael had hung out plenty since then, but this was the first time either of them had actually initiated real physical contact since, well… last fall. Which, at least as far as Jeremy was concerned, was the reason his heart was practically beating out of his chest. He had never felt such a strong urge to lock himself inside the car and jump out of it at the same time.

“What are friends for?” Michael finally said, the words barely heard over the radio.

As suddenly as it began, Jeremy felt Michael gently pull away from him. He watched as Michael twisted the bracelets on his wrist, a weird look on his face. When he finally met Jeremy's eyes, Michael laughed. It was breathy and light, the sound making Jeremy's stomach swoop like he had just missed a step on a flight of stairs.

“I, uh, figure you’ve kept your dad waiting long enough,” Michael said, scratching the back of his head. Jeremy looked back at the window. Right.

“Yea-yeah, knowing him he’s probably already declared me missing.” That earned a snort from Michael.

“You better get to it, then.”

Jeremy smiled sheepishly. “‘Night, Michael.”

“So long, Gay Bowser,” Michael grinned.

“Fuck off.”

The instant Jeremy made it into the house, he leaned against the front door and took a deep breath. His hands were shaky and locks of brown hair were plastered to his forehead, but neither compared to the warm rush of adrenaline pooling in his chest. A part of him welcomed it, in some sorta weird way. He was so used to the taste of copper in his mouth, a hand on the curve of his back and a whisper in his ear as ice shot up his spine. Ice branching off into ugly pink circuits and flaring up every time he thought about--

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered to himself, hands still trembling.

“Son?”

Jeremy looked up. His dad stood in the doorway to the living room, his arms loosely crossed across his chest.

“Do you realize what time it is?” His voice was firm, but not unkind.

Jeremy scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, Dad. Michael and me got a little caught up in our plans.”

His dad's face seemed to relax a little at the mention of Michael. "Just make sure you let me know next time you’re running late, private.”

The corner of Jeremy's mouth twitched up. “Thanks.” He ran past him, taking the stairs two at a time.

Dropping his backpack next to the floor of his bed, Jeremy reached into his cardigan pocket to set his phone on its charger for the night… except that his phone definitely wasn’t in there. Jeremy checked his other pocket, turning it inside out. Frowning, he dragged his backpack onto the bed and knelt down, rummaging through the contents. Nope. Jeremy stood back up and patted himself down, groaning as he reached his back pockets.

“Shit,” Jeremy muttered, throwing his cardigan over his computer chair. He swiveled into it, opening his laptop and logging into Facebook. Scrolling through the chat bar, Jeremy found Michael’s name. He was offline, but he was bound to see it before he left for school.

[23:42] Jeremiah Heere: Hey, I think I left my phone at your place. Could you bring it to school tomorrow?

Jeremiah Heere: Thanks, man! :)|

Jeremy’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Jeremiah Heere: Thanks, Mikey! :)|

Jeremy dragged his hands down his face.

[23:44] Jeremiah Heere: Thanks, Mikey.

Letting out a deep breath, Jeremy closed the laptop and pushed it away from him. He’d deal with… everything tomorrow. After changing out of his clothes and setting his alarm, Jeremy finally crawled under his covers around midnight. In the dark, he stared up at the ceiling.

He wondered if Michael was still awake. What he might be thinking about as he laid alone in the dark.

If, somehow, in some way, he knew that Jeremy's mind always came right back to Michael.

It was the last thought on his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

As the alarm blared in his ear, Jeremy felt the rude rush of consciousness flood back into his system. He groaned, burying his face deeper into his pillow. One hand freed itself from under the covers and blindly swatted at the digital clock on his bedside table. After a few misses, quiet fell over the room once again. Jeremy sighed, his arm left to dangle off the side of the bed. He stayed that way for a moment, trying to reassemble his thoughts into a somewhat coherent order. It was more difficult to think nowadays. Too much noise in his head.

When he finally felt gravity ease itself off his body, Jeremy pulled himself up. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, its weak warmth seeping into Jeremy’s skin. A few birds trilled to one another, their songs flitting in and out throughout the branches swaying just outside. Carding his fingers through tangled locks, Jeremy glanced at the clock. The face flashed 6:52 A.M. Jeremy dragged himself off the bed and into his computer chair. He opened his laptop, tapping his fingers on the desk as it booted up.

Ignoring the folders on his desktop labelled “System32” (so his dad wouldn’t snoop) and “Nickelback’s Greatest Hits” (so Michael wouldn’t snoop,) Jeremy opened his web browser.

[23:42] Jeremiah Heere: Hey, I think I left my phone at your place. Could you bring it to school tomorrow?

[23:44] Jeremiah Heere: Thanks, Mikey.

Jeremy hovered over his last message.

[Seen at 1:16 A.M.]

It was a little odd that Michael didn’t respond, but Jeremy shrugged it off. He had seemed more tired that he had let on last night, and probably passed out right after reading it. Closing the laptop, Jeremy stood and raised his arms towards the ceiling, his whole body shivering from the much-needed stretch. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes on his way out the door, Jeremy prepared for another day at Middle Borough.

Jeremy stumbled off the bus steps, catching himself before he tumbled into the back of two freshman girls. A stream of students made their way past him on either side, bits and pieces of their conversations starting to muddle Jeremy’s thoughts. Gripping the straps of his backpack tight, Jeremy breathed out and looked around. The front yard of the school was littered with students enjoying the milder weather. He could just make out Jake, arms as wide as his grin, yelling as Rich ran his chair through the frozen grass and straight towards a group of sophomores. Jeremy bit back a laugh as the students flailed out of the way just before the fateful impact. He reached into his back pocket to warn Rich to be careful, otherwise he’d be picking Jake up off the ground again, but froze as his hand came up empty. Right. Michael.

Adjusting his backpack, Jeremy took the opportunity to slip past the crowd of students as they watched Jake and Rich get their asses chewed out. Pushing open the smudged glass doors, he was greeted by the kind of frigid air conditioning and medley of body sprays that only the public education system could provide.

The hallways were practically empty, with only a student or two around each bend. Unfortunately, Michael Mell happened to be neither one of the students standing near his locker. Jeremy twisted his disappointment into a pained smile as Chloe waved manicured nails in his direction. She looked like she was on the phone. Brooke waited patiently beside her, smiling around her straw as she caught Jeremy’s eye. Jeremy gave a little wave back, then swung left towards the cafeteria.

Jeremy was greeted with overwhelming chatter as he pushed open the double door. What felt like at least half the student body was crammed into the tables and chairs, finishing whatever breakfast they could before the bell rang. Shuffling out of the way of the entrance, Jeremy fumbled with his sleeve as he scanned the amalgam of students. Each time his eyes landed on red, Jeremy could feel his breath catch in his throat. But the person would turn around and the face would be all wrong. Or the hair. Or the smile. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw the right shade shift.

Shoulder against the wall, turned away from Jeremy, was a blue and white backpack yelling ‘RIENDS.’

“Michael!”

One hand impulsively shot up in a wave. Michael made no signs of hearing him, and that’s when Jeremy realized his headphones were on. Maneuvering through the crowd, Jeremy called his name a little louder. Michael finally turned around as Jeremy was slowing to a walk. He seemed… off. Jeremy watched as his best friend gently pushed one side of his headphones off his ear, his fingers resting on the cord. His other hand was shoved in his hoodie pocket. Michael smiled and Jeremy found himself missing the crinkles near his eyes.

“Hey! Did you get my message last night?” Jeremy asked, shifting his weight against the wall.

“Yeah, sorry, man. I totally blanked this morning,” Michael started, the words tripping over each other. Jeremy felt his brows furrow as Michael smacked the open palm of his hand on his forehead for emphasis. “What a stoner, am I right?" Twisting his bracelets hard, Michael barked out a laugh. “I should really stop smoking before bed.” Jeremy’s smile wavered, but not because of the prospect of a school day without his phone to distract him.

Okay, yeah, that sounded pretty shitty too.

But Michael was definitely lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth.

Jeremy jumped out of his thoughts as he felt Michael’s hand on his shoulder. “But, hey, uh, we can totally stop by and get it before we head to your house. Sound cool, dude?”

Jeremy blinked. “Yeah-yeah, sounds cool.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the shrill ring of the bell. Both boys looked in its direction, then back at each other. “Listen, bro, I gotta get to class, but I’ll see you at lunch, 'kay?” Jeremy barely got a word out before he felt Michael’s fingers graze the skin above his shirt collar. As the headphones settled around his neck, Jeremy momentarily forgot how to breath. “I feel pretty bad about forgetting this morning, so, uh, I hope this will help you out for the day,” Michael babbled, tucking his iPod into Jeremy’s sweater pocket.

“B-but, Michael, you ne--”

“It’s okay, Jer. Seriously. I’ll be fine,” Michael cut in, his smile nervous but genuine. Jeremy could only nod as his best friend gave a short wave before flipping his hood up and disappearing into the sea of students. Michael’s headphones were his lifeboat in crowded halls and loud classmates. Without them, not only was he basically naked --

Nope. Jeremy dragged his hands down his burning cheeks. Try again, Heere.

Not only was he vulnerable to sensory overload without them, but they were one of his prized possessions. He never let anyone touch them. Sometimes not even Jeremy. Giving them to him was… was…

Jeremy was going to burst.

Okay, reboot. Reboot. Jeremy put one leg in front of the other and made his way back into the hall. As the students pushed past him, Jeremy slowly lifted the headphones to his ears. He closed his eyes. The sounds around him dulled to a low hum. When he opened his eyes, Jeremy realized his breathing had already slowed. Taking the iPod out of his pocket, he tapped the screen and looked at what Michael had been listening to.

It was a playlist, but not any that Jeremy recognized. And that was kinda saying something. Michael loved music, but he had always been a little… set in his ways. If he had finally decided to branch out and get into something new, Michael definitely would have told him. Curious, Jeremy tapped on the details.

“Created at 2:35… this morning?” Jeremy muttered. With nothing to lose, he hit play.

The second Jeremy heard those first few notes, nothing could stop the smile that washed over his face. Jeremy loved this album. He swiped up on the screen, quickly scrolling through the other songs listed. He recognized each title off the bat, but none of them were really Michael’s thing. Did Michael download them just for him? Jeremy wasn’t exactly surprised he knew his favorite music, but it was still… nice. It reminded him of when Michael used to trade mix CDs with him in middle school, the covers scribbled in Sharpie with lame titles like “pls get better music” and “P1 + P2.” That was back before Michael inherited this shitty iPod Touch (seriously, who had iPods anymore?) and the two of them would make a day out of exchanging CDs and listening to them together. But Jeremy still had all the ones Michael had given him. They were tucked safely in his bottom desk drawer, hidden beneath ticket stubs and letters to unknown recipients.

But Michael didn’t really need to know that.

Jeremy took a deep breath, stepping forward with the sort of confidence he thought had left with the… He shook his head. As the beat continued on, the lockers around him seemed to fade to nothing. The faces disappeared. The voices became a hum. And as he walked into his first class, Jeremy felt like he understood Michael a little bit more.

A bounce in his step, Jeremy made his way to lunch. It had been an… interesting day so far. Jeremy had stopped at his locker after first period to grab his textbook. He had been so preoccupied by the music playing through his (Michael’s) headphones that he almost missed the dozen or so notes that flew out as he swung it open. Jeremy’s mouth had fallen open, stunned. The music suddenly silent over the pounding in his ears, Jeremy had quickly swooped down and gathered the notes in his arms. Feeling the hot stares of his classmates on his back, he then shoved them in his backpack and slammed the locker shut. On the way to second period, Jake had waved a flustered Jeremy down to tell him he had really liked the creative writing story he had written for their English class. He went on to tell him that he should really consider honing his “killer talent”, and that he could do anything he believed in. At a loss for words, Jeremy had given Jake a shaky fist bump and stumbled into class.

During Chemistry, Christine had gushed to him about how well Jeremy’s audition had been for the spring musical, and how everyone was super impressed with how far he’d come since then. Jeremy had wanted to ask why she was pointing it out now when auditions had been a month ago, but he couldn’t stop reading the crumpled notes on his desk. They all had different handwriting, pointing out little things the anonymous writer liked about Jeremy. They all seemed to have a common theme -- they liked having him around. Christine had been too busy talking to notice them… or so Jeremy had thought. At the end of class she had casually leaned over and pointed to one, admitting it was her’s. It had said that she never stopped feeling lucky that he was in her life. Jeremy had no idea what to say, but he thanked her.

Chloe and Brooke had shoved a cup of frozen yogurt in his hands as he passed them for fourth period as thanks for helping them with their lines on Monday (and with the fear of rejecting a gift edging him on, he had practically shoveled the entire thing into his mouth before stepping into class, giving him a pretty baller brain freeze.) Neither had said much more to him, but their smiles seemed genuine.

And just now, on the way out of the bathroom, Rich had practically pulled him into the hall, doubled over in laughter. Confused as all hell, Jeremy awkwardly took the phone from his flailing hands and saw a Twitter conversation highlighted.

Jenna @rolanreporter 38m
OMG have you guys seen @heeremy today?? dude is rockin that bedhead + astro shirt combo xoxo

brookee @lohst_puppy 32m
@rolanreporter @heeremy me and chloe saw him this morning! it’s a cute shirt. :3

jakey d @dilligent 29m
@rolanreporter @heeremy @lohst_puppy i bet itd look even better on mikeys floor uwu

Gimme That D(illinger) @rich_bi_bitch 27m
@rolanreporter @heeremy @lohst_puppy @dilligent Are u hitting on Jeremy… for Michael? Lmfaoooo

Jenna @rolanreporter 15m
@dilligent DO NOT UWU ON MY TWEETS

jakey d @dilligent 15m
@rolanreporter umu

The whole thread was riddled with favorites, but one of the hearts on Rich’s reply belonged to lvl six homo. Jeremy had rolled his eyes, ignoring the stammer in his voice as he handed back the phone. “Aren’t you guys ever gonna get tired of the whole,” Jeremy made air quotes, “”Boyfs” joke?” Rich had wiped away a tear as he shoved his phone in his shorts pocket.

“Does Michael think it's a joke?”

“What?”

“Good talk, Jerm,” Rich had replied, giving him a hard pat on the back. Halfway down the hall, he spun on his heel and shot a few finger guns in Jeremy’s direction. “It is a pretty dope shirt, though.”

And now here Jeremy was, standing in front of the cafeteria doors. He was almost a little afraid to go inside. It wasn’t like his friends weren’t nice. It was just… they were acting different. Jeremy couldn’t quite place the reason for it, though, and it made him wonder if maybe he was overthinking like usual. Shaking his head, Jeremy reached for the door. But before he could push it open, something grabbed his sleeve. Jeremy looked up to see Michael, who had a plastic bag around his wrist and two slushies in the crook of his arm.

He saw Michael’s lips move, but no sound came out. That’s weird.

Oh, right. He felt his skin prickle with embarrassment as he settled the headphones around his neck. “Sorry, man. Wha-what did you say?” Jeremy offered weakly, digging his nails into the straps of his backpack.

“I said those look pretty good on you.” Michael shifted. “The headphones.”

Jeremy felt the prickle turn into a slow burn. “Heh, probably not as good as you.”

Jeremy swore Michael’s eyes widened, but the other boy was suddenly looking down and fumbling with the contents in his arms that he couldn’t tell for sure.

“So, uh, I went to Sev-Elev as usual and there was some pretty sweet deals going on, so I kinda,” Michael shoved the slushie into Jeremy’s chest, “went overboard and bought you lunch too? Totally not planned, you know how impulsive I am and shit.”

Jeremy stared down at the blue raspberry slushie, then back at Michael.

Michael Mell was not impulsive. Michael Mell had his entire route through school planned to the exact second of each song in his “It’s Mell in Hell” playlist and going a different way required at least one class period of emotional prep time.

Michael Mell was saving up for the new Apocalypse of the Damned game.

Michael Mell was a liar.

But why?

Suddenly Michael was walking again and Jeremy didn’t know what to do except follow him. It was a quick right turn to the exit doors, where the two boys were greeted by the outside lunch area. A group of girls were sitting a few feet away, so Michael decided to unceremoniously dump the plastic bag out on the far table of the small courtyard.

Jeremy figured it was best to just let Michael do his thing. He set his slushie down in between where him and Michael stood. Jeremy really liked blue raspberry, but he couldn’t help but stare at the red counterpart next to it. Jeremy worked his bottom lip between his teeth. Without thinking, he picked it up and guided the straw to his lips. It was… a lot sweeter than he imagined. Michael glanced up at Jeremy, then back at the table.

“You can have mine if you want, Jer,” Michael said, popping open the sushi containers.

Jeremy blinked, realizing what he’d done. Michael and him had shared food since forever, but he usually asked first like a normal human being. He quickly set the cup down, a bit of slush jumping out of the lid from the impact.

“No-no, it’s yours, dude. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He knew exactly what he had been thinking.

Michael rolled his eyes, then grabbed the blue slushie. He took a sip from it, then handed it back to Jeremy. “Now we’re even, weirdo. Now sit.” Jeremy swallowed. The two of them sat side by side at the table, Michael’s Seven-Eleven loot spread out in front of him. Jeremy reached for one of the soy sauce packets. “So, how’s your day been?” Michael asked, not looking up from his food.

“It’s actually been pretty good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah-yeah, um,” Jeremy sipped his slushie, “everyone's been super nice to me today. Like, more than usual. Rich actually complimented my clothes.” Jeremy turned and pointed at the front of his shirt. It was an astronaut print with “I NEED MY SPACE” in block letters. “He said it was dope.” Michael snorted.

“Why the surprise? That shirt’s cool as hell.”

Jeremy bit back a smile. “Yeah, I got a feeling you’re all just saying that.”

“No!”

Jeremy felt himself jump in his seat. Michael cleared his throat, avoiding Jeremy’s eyes. “I mean, nobody’s just saying that. They all mean it. And I do too, man. You look great. And all that other shit they've been saying too."

Jeremy wondered if he was as red as Michael’s slushie at this point. “Heh, well, it’s certainly turning out to be a really good day.” He scratched the back of his head. “I can’t think of the last time I was this… comfortable at school.”

Michael swallowed his bite. “And you get to hang out with your buddy after school too, don’t forget about that. I want to get past Level 12 before the night is over.” Jeremy mirrored his grin.

“Of course, dude. We can play as soon as we get back from grabbing my phone.”

Something in Michael’s face shifted. Jeremy watched as he took a long sip from his cup.

“Yeah.”

The rest of the lunch period was… different. Jeremy frowned. There was that word again. Different. Even as the bell rang and Michael made plans to meet up by his car, Jeremy couldn’t help but notice the way Michael kept wringing his hands and shifting his eyes. Jeremy’s fingers ran along the edge of the left earpiece around his neck. He was probably just getting overwhelmed. Shit. Jeremy would have to remember to give Michael’s headphones back to him. Only four more periods to go. Then he'd figure this out.

“Hey!”

Michael looked up from his phone, smiling as Jeremy ran up to him. “‘Bout time you showed up,” he hummed. Jeremy rolled his eyes as Michael unlocked the car.

“You know how Mr. Reyes is. He told us to stop by for a quick ten minute announcement about rehearsal next week and it turned into twenty minutes because he needed two breaks.” Michael laughed as he pulled out of the parking space.

“Dude, I have no idea how you put up with that man. Or any of them really.”

“All of our friends are in the musical, Michael.”

“And your point is?”

“Ha, ha.” Jeremy paused. “You should totally do it, though.”

“Do what?”

“Drama club!”

“Yeah, no. Not my thing, Jer.”

“It could be. You could, could do tech shit or something. You’re a--”

“Please finish that sentence, Jeremy. Please.”

“...Nerd?”

Michael glared at Jeremy, who returned the look with a sheepish smile. Michael quickly cracked, the scowl melting into a grin. “I would’ve said "geek", but whatever.”

Jeremy glanced out the window. Wait. “Michael, this way heads up to my street.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Michael’s hands gripped the steering wheel.

“Don’t we have to stop by your house first?” Jeremy frowned as he made no sign of responding. “Michael?” Michael turned onto Jeremy’s street. Jeremy leaned out of his seat, facing him. Jeremy's voice rose. “Michael! What the hell, dude? Why are you acting so touchy about my phone? And what’s with everyone today?” He could see Michael work his lower jaw as he kept driving, his eyes staring straight ahead. Jeremy tried again. “Man-man, if you broke it or something, I won’t be mad. Thing was a piece of junk anywa--”

“I. I didn’t break it,” Michael said. His shoulders relaxed.

Jeremy leaned back into his seat.

“Then… then, what’s wrong?”

“Can we just wait until we get to your house?” Michael glanced at him. “Please?”

Jeremy sighed. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

Neither said anything as Michael pulled into the driveway. It was silent as he parked the car, and still silent as Jeremy opened the front door. It wasn’t until they headed upstairs to the privacy of Jeremy’s bedroom that Jeremy finally spoke up.

“Okay, you really gotta tell me what’s going on.” He started to pace. “First, you act all shifty when I ask about my phone. You, you give me your headphones and buy me lunch. Everyone is, like, super nice to me for no reason, and then you don’t drive us to your place to pick up my phone like you said. What gives, man?” Jeremy dropped onto the bed, looking up at his best friend.

Michael shifted in place, his hands fumbling in his hoodie pockets. “I feel real bad about lying, Jeremy. And I’m sorry about that. I guess I just… figured you would want to handle it somewhere, uh, private. Maybe not at school.” Suddenly his hands were out of his pockets, pushing his hoodie sleeves up. His foot tapped against the carpet.

Jeremy frowned. “What are you talking about, Michael?”

“And, and, I didn’t tell everyone else the specifics. I just asked them to be a little... gentler with you today. I-I didn’t think they’d go so fucking overboard,” Michael breathed, running his hand through his hair. Jeremy could see the tremors in his hands from where he sat. Jeremy felt himself instinctively stand up and turn off the lights, but Michael didn’t even seem to notice.

“I guess I should’ve figured. Figured they would have jumped to the worst conclusions. I just thought, thought, ‘hey, maybe if he has a real fucking stellar day at school, maybe this won’t be as shitty as I think it’s gonna be.’”

“Michael.” Jeremy’s voice was soft.

“I guess I was. Was afraid? Afraid of fucking up? Like it’s a test, like to see if I deserve to--” Michael dug his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up his forehead. “No, no, it’s not a fucking test, it’s your life, it’s your life, Jeremy, and I tried to do the right thing, I, I tried to fix it but everything all day was just so fucking loud--”

Michael’s words broke off into shaky, uneven breaths as Jeremy gently placed his headphones over his ears. There wasn’t any music playing, but as he slowly took Michael’s hands away from his face, he could feel the tension immediately ebb out of his best friend’s body. Being his friend always came first, so Jeremy ignored the thump in his chest as he squeezed Michael’s hand.

Michael nodded, his head lowered and his eyes shut tight.

Jeremy squeezed his hand again, watching as Michael’s chest slowly rose.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Jeremy squeezed again, and Michael exhaled. He repeated the process with him for several minutes until Michael finally opened his eyes. Staring at the ground, Michael slowly took the headphones off with his free hand. Still, Jeremy didn’t speak until he knew it was okay.

“Thanks,” Michael said softly. He squeezed Jeremy’s hand.

Letting go, Jeremy nodded. “Of course.”

Michael sighed, and it pained Jeremy to see him so uncomfortable. So... exhausted. It was minor compared to others in the past, but Jeremy couldn't help but feel worried. Michael seemed to have recovered okay, though, as he shrugged his backpack off and fumbled with the zipper. He dug into the pouch for a moment, then pulled out Jeremy's phone.

“You… you had it on you this whole time?” Michael nodded. Jeremy waited for him to hand it to him, but the other boy seemed to hesitate.

“I, uh. Last night. When I realized you left it. I didn’t look at what it said. But I recognized the number. And, um.” Michael closed his eyes tight, breathing in. “Just know I’m here for you, man. Okay?”

Jeremy felt a sudden cold sweat on the back of his neck as Michael’s hand reached out. He barely noticed the warmth of their fingertips touching as he took it from him. Jeremy woke up the screen and felt his heart stop.

Covering the top part of his, Christine, and Michael’s grinning faces was a text message. The number wasn’t saved, not anymore, but he knew the sequence like the back of his hand.

“Mom.”

Jeremy wondered if he was dreaming.

The phone in his hand seemed real. Michael, staring at him as if he would vanish the moment he looked away, seemed real. The pounding in his ears seemed real too.

So why was the room spinning?

“Do you want to sit down?” The words were clumsy on Michael’s tongue. Awkward. His arms hovered on either side of Jeremy, like he wasn’t sure if his legs were going to give out. Jeremy wasn’t too sure either.

He slowly sat down on the bed, sinking into the mattress. Jeremy’s eyes never left the screen cradled in his open palms.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to feel.

He couldn’t feel anything.

The mattress creaked and Jeremy vaguely registered Michael’s shoulder press into his. He was warm. Jeremy tried to focus on the pressure, but the voices pulled him towards the water. He was cold.

The loudest one is mine.

Michael rested his elbows on his knees, the heel of his sneaker knocking against the bed frame. One finger was hooked around a bracelet, rolling the beads between his thumb. As the silence wore on, Michael stared down at the floor, as if the words he were searching for were written somewhere in the carpet.

“Can… can I ask what it says?” was what Michael eventually settled on. He tilted his head, trying to catch Jeremy’s eye. As his brain slowly processed the question, Jeremy didn’t recognize the voice that clawed its way out his throat. In the back of his mind, he could hear himself screaming. The scream broke into a gurgle as his body was dragged under the surface.

The loudest one is mine.

“It. It, uh, says she heard I went to the hospital.” Three months ago. He went three months ago. “She’s back in town. She wants to have dinner. Sunday.”

Michael swallowed. He looked back down at the floor. “How long has i--”

“A year.” Water crashed in around him. Jeremy could feel the murmurs circling around him, distorted and hushed. Their eyes bore into his. He looked away.

He was sinking.

The loudest one is mine.

“Well, that, that’s good, right?”

It wasn’t.

“She wants to see you.”

Did she?

“I don’t know.”

The loudest one is mine.

“D-- Do you want to see her?”

Jeremy’s head jerked up.

Did he?

“Don’t you miss her?”

Should he?

Jeremy clawed against the undercurrent, choking on salt and foam as he desperately grasped for nothing. He had to get out. His lungs burned. Another wave barreled into his body, whipping him around.

Up. (Up.) Down. (Down.) Left. Right. (A.)

None of it made sense.

“I’ll come over too if, if you want. If it helps. I've always liked her.”

Michael seemed so far away now, a shimmering patch of red rippling above the water’s surface. Jeremy could almost make out the curve of his smile before icy fingers tore into his skin, dragging him back down. His spine writhed in pain.

The loudest one is mine.

Michael had never really known, had he?

It was dark.

“I moved on. Why can’t she?”

“Jere--”

“No. Really.” He looked past Michael. “She left. Why come back?”

Michael nursed his bottom lip between his teeth. “I know it was really hard for you when your mom left. She meant a lot to you.”

Jeremy felt his limbs grow numb. “I was fine.”

Michael frowned. “I remem--”

The loudest one is mi--

His lungs were heavy. “I didn’t care,” Jeremy spat.

“I know you love her. You don’t have to pretend th--”

The loudest one is--

He could feel the blood spill out his throat. “I’m not pretending!”

“It’s okay to feel the way you fe--”

The murmurs became frenzied. “Why do you act like you know everything?”

The loudest one is--

“I-I don’t, I just--”

Hungry. “You just what, Michael?”

“I just know how you feel! And I--”

Jeremy snapped.

“You don’t know how I feel.”

Michael flinched.

“How would you know the first thing about how I feel?” Jeremy seethed through clenched teeth. He was standing now, towering over Michael. His best friend shrunk under his shadow.

“Your parents never fought. Your mom never left.”

“That’s not what I meant, Jeremy!”

“Do you even know how lucky you are?” Jeremy was shaking. “How lucky you are to be allowed to do, do whatever the fuck you want, to be wanted and accepted no matter what?”

“She didn’t leave because of you, Jeremy! She loved you!”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know shit, Michael!”

“That’s not true!” Michael suddenly yelled. Jeremy took a step back as Michael jumped off the bed. His features were twisted into something unrecognizable as he got in Jeremy’s face.

“I know what it’s like to have someone abandon you without a fucking reason,” Michael hissed. His eyes were glassy. “I know what it’s like to sit alone for hours and wonder if they just took the first fucking chance they got to leave you, like, like you meant nothing to them.”

The guilt rising in Jeremy’s chest was quickly buried under a fresh wave of adrenaline. “That was different and you know it. It has nothing to do with this!”

"No, no, see, I get it, Jeremy!” Michael threw his hands up in the air as he paced. “Your mom left and you loved her and now she wants to waltz back in like nothing’s changed! And that fucking sucks,” he breathed, “but it’s not like you’re doing much better!”

“I’m nothing like her, Michael!”

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just like her!”

“You don’t know my mother.”

“Well, y’know what they say,” Michael sneered. “Like mother, like son.”

“Get out.”

Jeremy’s chest heaved as he pointed to the door. The words seemed to echo throughout the entire house, leaving behind a deafening silence in their wake. Michael stared at him, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Now.”

Shoving his headphones on, Michael ducked his head down and pushed past Jeremy’s trembling frame. He slammed the door behind him, leaving Jeremy alone. He stood there until the footsteps faded away and another door slammed shut. Outside Jeremy’s window, the PT Cruiser came to life, squealing as it made a hard turn and sped out of the driveway.

His head was quiet for once.

Not bothering with the covers, Jeremy slowly crawled into bed. He hugged his knees tight as he tried to stifle the aching hole growing in his chest. It seemed to expand with every breath, consuming every nerve in his body until he felt completely… gone.

Jeremy swallowed hard as he felt something hot drip down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Michael burned into his retinas, but nothing could stop the body wracking sob that soon escaped his lips. The tears came hot and heavy, catching on his eyelashes and soaking into the sheets. Through each sharp intake of breath, Jeremy heard a whisper.

Nobody likes a crybaby, Jeremiah.

Jeremy’s chin trembled.

You wouldn’t want him to see you like this.

He wouldn’t.

Get yourself cleaned up before he comes back.

Jeremy wiped his nose on the back of his hand, sniffling. He made his way to the bathroom across the hall. Jeremy flicked on the light, squinting as it hit his eyes. Closing the door behind him, Jeremy rested his hands on either side of the sink and stared at his reflection.

You really must do something about your hair, Jeremiah.

Jeremy turned on the faucet. Cold water spilled out.

Having it in your eyes like that just emphasizes how… pale you are.

He cupped his hands under the running water.

Michael doesn’t think I’m too pale. He says I look nice.

Well, we all know how Michael is, don’t we?

Jeremy dried off his face with the hand towel. Checking the mirror one more time, he gingerly touched the bags under his eyes. They were still a little puffy, but he could handle that.

Crawling under the covers this time, Jeremy fished under his bed for where his phone had ended up during… their talk. Laying back down, he saw three notifications littering his lockscreen. They were sent about ten minutes earlier.

From Jenna Rolan: one of my sources sent me this pic during seventh period today

From Jenna Rolan: it’s pretty adorbs so i thought you’d like to have it xoxo

[ Jenna Rolan sent an attachment ]

Huh. Jeremy tapped on the last message. It was a picture of him and Michael, sitting outside from earlier that day. Based on the angle, the photographer must have been one of the girls sitting across the courtyard from them. The two of them were turned towards each other, probably in the middle of a conversation. Jeremy was sipping his slushie, leaning towards Michael with a small smile on his face. Michael was grinning wide, hands gesturing wildly in front of him. Looking at the picture, Jeremy knew Michael’s hair had been bouncing along with his movements, following the rhythmic ups and downs of his voice. Saving it to his camera roll, Jeremy felt that familiar bittersweet pang in his chest.

To Jenna Rolan: Creepy… but thanks!

To Jenna Rolan: It’s a cute picture.|

Oh, God. Not to Jenna.

To Jenna Rolan: It’s a nice picture.

Jeremy started to put his phone on his bedside table, but it immediately buzzed.

From Jenna Rolan: LMAO michael said the same thing

From Jenna Rolan: a lot gayer though of course

From Jenna Rolan: HMU when you two finally tie the headphone cord

Jeremy sighed, a bitter taste in his mouth. He could usually play along with the jokes, but they seemed almost cruel now. Jeremy set his phone down and turned on his side. It wasn’t like any of his friends knew about it, though, so Jeremy couldn’t really blame Jenna for going with the status quo.

A part of Jeremy wanted to know what Michael had said about the picture, but a bigger part of him kinda just wanted to punch him in the face.

Then maybe ask about the picture.

Learning from his past mistake, Jeremy reached forward and hit a button on his clock. The face flashed for a moment, then stilled. Music from the radio station began to quietly fill the room. The noise in his head started to simmer down.

Jeremy’s eyelids fluttered open to the sound of a voice and sunlight on his face. Waking up was always a process as he willed his thoughts to arrange themselves in order. He could feel them shuffle around in his mind, knocking into each other as they tried to make sense of things. Once he got the hang of moving his body again, Jeremy slowly propped himself up on his arm. The voice called again, muffled and distant. Scratching the back of his neck, Jeremy closed his eyes and listened again.

“Boys?”

Jeremy glanced at the clock. It read 6:23 P.M., which explained why he could hear those particular footsteps heading up the stairs. As Jeremy pushed himself to sit up completely, his dad appeared in the doorway. He was carrying two boxes of pizza with his briefcase carefully balanced on top. His eyebrows raised as he caught sight of Jeremy.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were home. Michael’s car wasn’t in the driveway.”

“Yea-yeah, I’m home.” Jeremy cringed. “Uh, obviously.” Jeremy’s dad cleared his throat and jerked his head toward the door. Jeremy perked up. “Right, yeah. You can come in.” Jeremy’s dad stepped inside his room and set the boxes on Jeremy’s desk.

“I got you boys pizza for dinner,” his dad said. He dusted off his hands, looking around the room. If he was looking for any sign of Michael’s existence, and Jeremy was sure he was, he wouldn’t find it. “Is Mike out grabbing his things?” Jeremy swallowed.

“He’s, uh, actually not spending the night tonight.” Jeremy picked at the pilling on the blanket, not meeting his dad’s eye. “Sor-sorry, if I had known you were getting dinner I would’ve called to let you know.” Jeremy’s dad crossed his arms, studying his son.

“Everything good, Jer?”

Jeremy glanced up, then quickly averted his eyes. “Yup! Everything, everything’s fine. Ju-just, you know. Chillin’.” The jerk in Jeremy’s posture was more than noticeable, as if it had hurt as the word passed through Jeremy’s system and slipped past his lips. His fingers were pulling threads now. The crease in his dad’s forehead deepened.

“You’re stuttering, son,” his dad pointed out gently.

“S-sorry, I do-don’t know why, why I--”

“It’s okay,” his dad cut in. He raised his hands in front of his chest. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It doesn’t bother me.” Jeremy’s dad stepped forward. “But it lets me know that something might be bothering you.” Jeremy hesitated.

“It’s… it’s nothing, Dad. Michael and I, we… we just got into a fight, is all.”

“A fight?”

“Yeah, but, but you don’t have to worry about it. I’m… I’m sure we’ll be…” Jeremy trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to end the sentence.

What were they?

His dad clapped his hands once, causing Jeremy’s head to jerk up. “Well, you can tell me about it over dinner,” he said, grabbing one of the boxes off his son’s desk. Jeremy opened his mouth to tell his dad that he didn’t feel like going downstairs right now, let alone talk about Michael, but promptly closed it as he watched his dad settle down on the floor next to his bed. Jeremy’s dad set his briefcase on the ground next to him, then opened the pizza box. He offered it to Jeremy, who hesitated.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat in here?”

“I think the rules are allowed to be bent a little for special exceptions.” Jeremy gave his dad a timid smile as he took a piece of pizza from the box. He watched as his dad took a piece for himself, then set the box back on the ground. “I hope you’re also okay with sharing one pizza with your old man.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but snort. “Ham and pineapple?” he asked. His dad nodded gravely, mirroring his son’s look of playful disgust.

“Ham and pineapple. You chose a real keeper.”

“Maybe… maybe you can keep it in the fridge. He likes cold pizza.”

“So, it’s not that serious, I presume?”

“Huh?”

“Your fight, Jeremy.”

Jeremy frowned. The half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand frowned back. “I… I don’t know, Dad. He said some shi-- uh, mean things."

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Jeremy sighed, unsure where to start. “Well, yesterday, I got a text from, from Mom.” He glanced at his dad, whose expression remained the same. “She, uh… wants to see me. Or something. I guess. That’s what she said, but y’know how she ca--”

“I know, Jer,” his dad reassured him. “You don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy glanced up at the ceiling. “So, long story short, I left my phone at Michael’s so he saw the text before me. Not, not like the text itself, but he saw her number and he kinda went crazy trying to make sure I would be okay enough to handle it.” He looked at his dad, who nodded at him to continue. “And I was, at first anyway, but then…” Jeremy furrowed his brows. “It went wrong somewhere. I. I don’t know where. We ended up screaming at each other.”

“Can I ask what the two of you said?”

Jeremy picked at a piece of burnt cheese on his pizza. “He started asking me these questions. If I wanted to see her. If I missed her. I don’t know, it really bothered me. The way he kept acting like he knew how I felt about her. What I was going through. He’s always liked Mom, so I think he really wanted me to fix things with her. It was like he couldn’t even hear me.” Jeremy felt his dad’s hand rest on his shoulder. “When he, he said he knew how I felt, I just… snapped. I told him that he had no idea what it’s like to have divorced parents, to have a parent that…” Jeremy sighed. “He got… really angry after that. He brought up the Squip incident. He… he said I was just like Mom.” Jeremy’s voice was barely a whisper. His dad was silent for several moments.

“Have you ever… told Michael about your mother, Jeremy?”

Jeremy lowered his head.

Jeremy’s dad rubbed his beard, mulling over his words. “The two of you have been best friends for a very long time. I'm sure you’re probably comfortable with sharing things that may be personal or difficult. And knowing Michael for as long as I have, I think he'd be supportive if you were to tell him about your relationship with your mom.” His dad paused.

“Of course, no matter how long or deep the relationship, you’re never obligated to share something you aren’t comfortable with, and I trust your judgment for not telling him. I think, though, it’s important to understand that if Michael had the whole story, or even parts of it, his reaction might have been very different. That doesn’t mean that you should or shouldn’t tell him. But there will always be advantages and disadvantages to difficult situations like this.” Jeremy’s dad squeezed his shoulder. “Regardless, what Michael said was very unkind. You have a right to be upset. He should have listened to you.”

Jeremy slowly nodded. “That… that makes sense. I just don’t get why he got so angry.”

“Do you remember what Michael exactly said?”

“He said that he knew how I felt because I--” Jeremy closed his eyes. “I abandoned him too. I made him feel… unwanted without even giving a reason why. That I-I just wanted to “waltz back into his life” like I had never hurt him. That, that made me just like Mom.” Jeremy’s eyes flew open. “But, that’s ridiculous, right? I mean, yeah, maybe he doesn’t know the whole story about Mom, but why bring up the Squip thing when it’s ancient history? Everything was going perfectly okay between us, so it’s like he brought it up because it’s an easy mark.”

“Did you ever ask Michael if things were okay?”

“What?”

“After you were released from the hospital,” his dad continued gently. “Did you ever sit down with Michael and ask him if he was okay?”

Jeremy shifted awkwardly. “W-well, no. After the whole thing, I told him I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. So… they did. Or at least I thought so.”

Jeremy’s dad thought for a moment. “I don’t think I will ever fully comprehend what happened to you last fall, Jeremy. I won’t pretend that I do. But, I do have some sense as to what happened to Michael.” Jeremy swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear this.

“While you were… gone, Mike’s parents called me a few times. They were worried about their son. He was staying home from school days at a time. He had stopped playing video games. They weren’t sure if he was eating. There was a," Jeremy's dad searched for the word," stillness in their son that they had never seen before. Like something was missing that had made all the gears click into place before.” Jeremy’s dad squeezed his son’s shoulder tight. “It wasn’t hard for them to figure out what that missing piece was. When they finally asked, Michael had told them that you were out of town. That he didn’t know when you would be coming back.” Jeremy looked down at his lap. His pizza was getting soggy as he blinked back the burning in his eyes.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, son,” his dad whispered, his hand moving from Jeremy’s shoulder to his back. Jeremy sniffled. “I’m telling you this because I think sometimes it’s hard to see someone else’s difficult time when you were going through one yourself. What happened between the two of you can be… hard. It’s tempting to try and push past it, to bury it and leave it be, but I think Michael has always needed some time to heal. I don’t doubt that he wanted you back just as much as you wanted him. But… what happened happened. And I think today hit a sore spot for both of you, but in different ways.” Jeremy’s dad moved to sit next to his son on the bed. He gently took the pizza out of Jeremy’s hand and set it down on the box.

Jeremy sighed, leaning in his father’s side. His dad wrapped his arm around his shoulder, kissing the top of his son’s head. “There are people in this world, Jer, who will pour and pour themselves into others. They have a lot of love to give, and they love to give it. Mike has always been… a fixer. I don’t think I can remember a time he’s let you be unhappy for more than a day without doing something about it. But when someone pours so much of themselves out to fill another, it can start to harm them in the process. Especially if the person doesn’t realize it. Your mother and I… she gave a lot of herself for our marriage. It wasn’t easy on her.”

“Dad, she--” Jeremy started.

“I don’t forgive your mother, Jeremy. I won’t make excuses for how she treated you. How she… made you feel. It would make things a lot easier if you could hate her, wouldn’t it?”

Jeremy avoided his father’s gaze.

“I will never tell you how you should or shouldn’t feel about your mother. That will always be your decision. But… it’s okay if you don’t hate her, even if you feel like you should. People are messy. Family is messy. It’s hard when family doesn’t love you the way they should, especially when you’re a child. On the good days, it might make you feel selfish or ungrateful. On the bad days, you might feel stupid for falling for it all over again. But that is never your fault.”

Jeremy drew out a shaky breath as he watched his dad wipe away a tear.

“Before you were born, we had our problems. I had my problems. No one should stay where they are unhappy, even for the sake of another person’s happiness. She left me and that was her right. I still loved her because there had been a time where she had loved me the way that she should. But when she left you, I… I didn’t know what to do. She was your mother. She was supposed to be there for you. And I wasn’t sure if her absence was for better for worse.” Jeremy’s dad was crying now, a smile on his face.

“But, Jeremy, you have grown so much since then. You have healed in ways that I think you haven’t even realized. And you will continue to heal, and grow, and learn. Maybe you made some of the same mistakes as your mother. But, that doesn’t mean you are going to grow up to be her. It doesn’t mean that at all.”

Jeremy buried his head in his father’s chest, gripping the back of his suit jacket tight. His dad completed the hug, waiting for his son’s crying to settle down before he continued.

“I know you love Michael, Jeremy. You’ve done the things you’ve done because of that. But, you should ask yourself if you show him you love him in the right way. If he does same for you. And once you know that answer, talk to him. A little communication can go a long way.” Jeremy’s dad placed his hands on either side of Jeremy’s face, pulling him up to look at him. “There will always come a time where you will hurt people you love, but it’s what you do after that defines you as a person. Do you understand?”

Jeremy nodded. They exchanged a small smile.

“I love you, Jeremy.”

“I love you too, Dad,” Jeremy replied, giving his dad one last hug. Pulling away, he watched as his dad stood up and picked up the pizza boxes and the briefcase.

“I’ll put these in the kitchen for you if you decide to eat something later.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. “For, for talking to me, too. I feel better.”

"Of course.” His dad paused in the doorway. “Let me know what you decide tomorrow.” He closed the door gently behind him.

The room was quiet, save for Jeremy’s breathing and the radio, long forgotten, playing on his bedside table. Feeling the day’s events in his limbs, Jeremy pulled his covers out from under him and crawled in. He spent the night’s last few minutes of consciousness staring out the window.

His thoughts were still.

His cereal was getting soggy.

Jeremy flipped through the TV channels, barely registering the images on the screen before moving on to the next. The disconnected string of sounds from each program as it passed was the only sound in the house. Jeremy’s father had left for the day an hour or so before. He hadn’t questioned why his son was sitting in the dark at 7:00 A.M. on a Saturday, still dressed in his school clothes from the day before. He had simply leaned down and pulled Jeremy’s head towards him, kissing the unruly curls. Dragging his attention from the screen to say goodbye, Jeremy had nearly fallen off the couch trying to stop his dad from walking out the door half-dressed. The silence between the two had been thick as his father had looked at him, then down at his boxers. Even now, the expression on his father’s face as he apologized and went upstairs was cemented in the back of Jeremy’s mind.

His dad still had off days. Bad days. But he was trying. Had been trying for a while now, actually.

Jeremy just had never seen it.

Giving up, he turned off the television. Sunlight was starting to filter in through the living room windows, alerting Jeremy that the world would soon be waking up too. Dropping the TV remote on the floor, he reached over and picked up his phone on the arm of the couch. Half-hoping for something he knew wouldn’t come, Jeremy was only greeted by the same three smiling faces.

Jeremy sighed.

All the anger that had boiled inside him before had vanished. Now, Jeremy was only left with a heavy heart. It wasn’t like he wasn’t still upset at Michael. He was. Michael had been a jerk and ended up really hurting his feelings. But… Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to be mad. It had been an outburst, a shitty one at that, but a one time deal. A blip in Michael’s otherwise near-perfect record. Compare that to the Squip incident and the three months of pained tension Jeremy had strung him through after, and well…did he even have the right to be mad at anyone but himself?

Jeremy had been lucky. He couldn’t see Michael back then.

But everyone else could.

He wondered what they saw.

Turning off the television, Jeremy untangled himself from the blanket and stood up. Tucking his phone in his back pocket, he took the bowl of cereal (if he could even call it that) into the kitchen. Turning on the faucet, Jeremy’s mind started to flood with water.

Who had been there when the lights got too loud for him?

Jeremy picked up the sponge.

Who had safely pulled him back to dry land when the sea of students got too strong?

Jeremy scrubbed the bowl.

Who had led him to the nearest empty classroom so other people wouldn’t stare?

Jeremy scrubbed the bowl.

Who had sat with him under the tables until he could feel his own heartbeat again?

Jeremy scrubbed the bowl.

Who had been there for him?

Jeremy put the bowl in the drying rack. His fingertips were raw.

Everything about you is so terrible.

Jeremy went upstairs.

Michael had always been the one thing Jeremy got right.

Everything about you makes me want to die.

Even when he was told he was made up of all the wrong parts, Jeremy knew he had gotten Michael right.

And he had fucked up. Just like he always did.

Everything about you is so terrible.

They were both right.

Everything about you makes me want to die.

He didn’t deserve anything.

Everything about you is so terrible.

Now there wasn’t anyone telling him that it was unsightly.

That no one would like him if they saw.

Jeremy found himself in the bathroom. He closed the door behind him even though his father wouldn’t be home for hours. He dropped his phone on the counter. A vague sense of familiarity coursed through his system as he pushed up his sleeves. For a moment, Jeremy thought he saw a flash of his younger self in the bathroom mirror. He looked paler. Hands shaking, Jeremy frantically rummaged through the drawers. He pushed aside extra tubes of toothpaste and miniature shampoo bottles his dad always collected from dinky little hotel chains. In the bottom drawer was the shaving cream and cotton balls.

No razors.

Slamming the drawer shut, Jeremy swallowed the curse in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, he tried to steady his breathing. Maybe Michael had left one of his lighters in his room. Or, or, something. Pushing a hand through his hair, he barely noticed the buzz of his phone.

“What is this?”

Jeremy winced as his mother grabbed his wrists, manicured nails pressing into the skin.

Jeremy studied a tile on the kitchen floor. It was cracked.

Her lip curled as she dropped his hands. They fell limply to his side. “Go. Take care of it before dinner. No one will want to see… that.” She turned back to the floral arrangement she was adjusting.

Jeremy looked up.

“And you really must do something about your hair, Jeremiah. Having it in your eyes like that just emphasizes how… pale you are.”

“Mi… Michael doesn’t think I look too pale. He says I look nice.”

“Well, we all know how Michael is, don’t we?”

Jeremy stood still for a moment, waiting for her to continue. To get mad. To ask. To worry.

She didn’t.

He went upstairs.

The phone buzzed again, almost desperately. Jeremy looked down at the lit screen.

Digging through his closet, Jeremy pulled out his faded NASA sweatshirt. He tugged it over his shirt, biting his lip as the fabric brushed against his wrists. Crawling into his bed, Jeremy barely hit 'send' on the text before the tears started rolling down his cheeks.

It was a text.

His fingers eased their grip on the counter as Jeremy read the two words on the screen.

From P1: waka waka

They were sitting cross-legged on Jeremy’s bed, foreheads barely touching. It was quiet. The dinner party continued downstairs, unaware of Jeremy’s absence.

He didn’t really mind.

“Is this why you made me climb through the window?” Michael asked. The back of Jeremy’s hands were gently resting in his open palms, Michael’s thumb absentmindedly stroking the unmarked skin along Jeremy’s wrist. His touch was soft.

It made Jeremy want to cry.

“I’m… I’m not supposed to have anyone over right now.”

“Oh. Well, sounds pretty boring down there, anyway.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Michael glanced up at Jeremy. His face was so close Jeremy could count the colors in his eyes if he wanted to.

Not that he wanted to.

“Um. I think so. I-I don’t know.”

“Did something happen? Is that why…?” Michael trailed off, his eyes drifting back to the shaky hands in his own. Jeremy could tell he didn’t know what to say. That was okay, though. Jeremy didn’t really know what to say either.

Just anything but the truth.

“No-no, just… school. It’s, it’s been getting to me.”

“Yeah… school sucks.”

“I’m, I’m sorry for making you come--”

“No, no. I’m… really glad you told me. It was really brave of you, Jer.”

“I… I was really afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That you’d… look at me differently.”

“Ignoring that I'd be a hypocrite? I see you, Jeremy. Not… these. I’ve been looking at you the same way for, for years. I don’t think anything could ever change how I look at you.”

Jeremy watched as a few tears landed on the bed sheets. Whether they were his or Michael’s, he wasn’t sure. After a moment, Michael spoke up again.

“Hey. You know that tattoo I’ve wanted since, like, forever?”

Jeremy sniffed. “The Pac-Man one?”

“Yeah! Well, my parents and I talked and they said that they would go with me to get it as my birthday present next year. The same place where I got my ears pierced.”

“Really? How’d you finally convince them to let you do it?”

“Well,” Michael laughed, the sound breathy and light, “they actually convinced me.”

Taking Jeremy’s confused expression as a cue, Michael pulled his hands out from under Jeremy’s and proceeded to tug his right sleeve up. Jeremy sucked in a breath as his eyes landed on Michael’s arm. His best friend almost always wore his hoodie, so he rarely saw the scars that crept up his right arm. They were a few shades lighter than the rest of his arm, the scarred skin beaded like candle wax.

“It’ll take a while for them to heal. That’s why I have to wait until I'm sixteen. But… if I do it, then I can get it right over them. A fresh start.”

Jeremy hesitated to ask. “Ho-how are you getting yourself to? To, to stop, I mean.”

Michael smiled and fished a rubber band out from under the tangle of bracelets along his wrist. “I use this. It looks a little silly, I know, but it helps. I sometimes push my slushie cup against my arm too, until I can’t take the cold anymore.” Michael took Jeremy’s hands again. “There’s a lot of different things you can do. We can figure something out for the next time you feel like--"

“No-no, dude, it’s okay,” Jeremy broke in, pulling away and pushing his sleeves back down. “I won’t do it again, I-I don’t know what I was even thinkin--”

“I really hope you don’t do it again, Jer,” Michael cut him off. His voice was soft. “But… I think you should have a few alternatives if you… feel that way again. Just in case. Okay?”

Jeremy bit his lip. Slowly, he placed his hands back in Michael’s.

“Okay. But… what if I… mess up?”

“It might happen. But, we’ll get through it together. Like you always have for me. Okay?”

Jeremy nodded, looking down at his lap.

“You should tell me if you feel bad again. Like, um,” Michael thought for a moment. “Like, like a code word or something so you don’t feel embarrassed. If we’re worried about ourselves or each other, we’ll say it and then, um, the other will repeat it and then we’ll remember that we’re here for each other. That everything’s okay. Even if it kinda isn’t. And if we don’t respond, we’ll know to help.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile. “What kind of code word?”

Michael paused, thinking. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He pointed to his arm. “Waka-waka.”

Jeremy snorted. “Dude, what?”

“Like, like Pac-Man, y’know? Waka-waka-waka--”

“I get it! You don’t have to keep saying it. It sounds dumb.”

“Waka-waka-waka-waka-waka-waka-waka,” Michael said under his breath, a soft smile on his lips. He looked up at Jeremy over his glasses, an expression on his face that Jeremy didn’t recognize.

“You’re such an idiot,” Jeremy mumbled, pushing Michael away.

“No, you gotta say it!” Michael laughed. “Waka-waka-waka-waka--” He started poking Jeremy in the sides, causing the other boy to spasm with laughter. Jeremy tried his best to fight off the attack, but Michael was persistent. Jeremy ended up on his side, with Michael draped over him and poking his cheeks. “Waka-waka-waka-waka-waka-waka--”

“--Waka-waka! There, are you happy?” Jeremy whined, swatting Michael’s face away. The two boys erupted into giggles. As their laughter settled down, Jeremy could feel Michael’s head rest on his shoulder and his heartbeat on his back. His fingers came to rest along Jeremy’s wrist as the silence thickened.

“Promise?” His voice was quiet.

“Promise.”

Jeremy felt the claws in his chest loosen their hold.

To P1: Waka waka.

He rolled down his sleeves.

He left the bathroom.

Jeremy knew Michael was still mad at him. He usually sent a lot more than just the code word. Sometimes it was just an excessive amount of question marks. A picture of a really cute cat. But, even though he was pissed… Michael had asked. He was still worried about him.

He still thought Jeremy was worth caring about.

“There will always come a time where you will hurt people you love, but it’s what you do after that defines you as a person.”

Walking into his bedroom, Jeremy took a red Sharpie pen out of the pencil cup on his desk. Uncapping it with his teeth, he sat on his bed and rolled up his jacket sleeve. Writing as small and neatly as he could, he wrote four names down his wrist. Right over the pink lines.

Michael had told him once that people hurt themselves because they think they deserve punishment. Jeremy hadn’t quite known what he meant, but the older he got and the louder the voices got he started to understand. He wanted to get rid of the pain. The guilt. The mistakes. Himself.

Jeremy didn’t know what he wanted to say to Michael just yet, but he knew what he needed to say to the others. Something long overdue. Once he fixed things with them, maybe he could move on to others. Jeremy was sure he’d probably messed up with everyone at one point. It… wasn’t as easy as the other option. He’d be lying if he said a part of him didn’t want to lock himself in the bathroom and never come out.

But he wasn’t going to. He was going to give himself the punishment he actually deserved.

The fear of asking for forgiveness… and not getting it.

Picking up his phone, Jeremy scrolled through his contacts. He tapped on a name and let it ring.

“Brooke? ...Hey! I was wondering, uh, did you want to go… shopping?”

“Here you go, Jerry.”

Jeremy looked up at the sound of the nickname to see Brooke handing him an iced coffee loaded with whipped cream. After he had taken a quick shower and got dressed, she had picked him up and drove the two of them to Menlo Park. He returned her smile and took it from her hands.

“Thanks again for buying.”

“It’s no problem. I buy the other girls' drinks all the time,” she shrugged, idly stirring her drink with her straw. “Theirs end up being a lot more expensive, so you’re already a better date.” Her tone was pouty, but there was no denying the pink flaring up in her cheeks. Jeremy laughed. It was cute.

“Heh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Soo… where do you want to go?”

Jeremy scratched the back of his head. “Why-why do I have to decide?”

“Oh. Well, you always did when we were dating. I just figured…” Brooke trailed off, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she avoided eye contact.

“Well, that sounds pretty bogus.” Wait, who says bogus anymore? “Uh-uh, I mean shitty.” He glanced over to see a smile growing on Brooke’s lips. “You should totally decide.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay!” Brooke said, a sudden liveliness in her words. She grabbed Jeremy’s hand and started a brisk walk. “There’s a store I want to go to. Maybe we can get you a new shirt too.”

Jeremy swallowed. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Jeremy’s voice was quiet as he hurried to catch up with his mother’s brisk walk. She didn’t turn around.

“It’s better if you just comply, Jeremiah.”

They turned into a store that Jeremy didn’t really recognize. It was full of polo shirts, khaki shorts… nothing comfortable. His hands bounced in his jacket pockets as he stood next to his mother. She crossed her arms, nails tapping against her arm. After a moment, she sighed.

“Take your hands out of your pockets. Now, try picking out a shirt.”

Swallowing hard, Jeremy stepped forward. The harsh white lights overhead were giving him a headache. He reached for a shirt on one of the racks and suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on him.

“That’s a girl’s shirt. Can’t you do just one thing right?”

Brooke turned to look at him, giggling. “Nothing! Let’s just treat ourselves, yeah?”

Jeremy nodded, the pressure on his throat suddenly gone.

“Posture.”

Jeremy’s back straightened on command. He stood in front of the mirror, fingers fumbling with the bottom button of the shirt. His mother stood next to him, one hand gripping each of his arms.

“See, don’t you look better? You wouldn’t look so bad if you just stopped wearing those childish shirts.”

“Dad lets me buy them,” Jeremy mumbled, wincing as his mother’s nails dug into his skin.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jeremiah? Your father doesn’t know what’s best for you. He can barely take care of himself, let alone… you. No wonder those children bully you so much. You’re an easy target.” She released her grip on her son and turned around. “Put that one with the others. We’re taking it, and when we get home we can properly dispose of your wardrobe.” She waved her hand dismissively, heading for the checkout counter. Jeremy looked back at the mirror. He didn't recognize the face staring at him.

The store Brooke led them to was on one end of the mall. It was bright and cheery, the walls lined with floral patterns and smiling models. An upbeat song played on the overhead speaker.

Letting go of his hand, Brooke gently pushed Jeremy towards the boys’ section.

“Meet me by the dressing room in, like, ten minutes, mmkay?” she hummed. Jeremy looked around him nervously. What if he picked the wrong thing? What if Brooke hated it? What if she laughed at him?

“Why would I laugh at you?”

Jeremy jumped. Brooke was frowning, her head tilted to the side.

“Wa-was I saying that, that out l-loud?” he managed to choke out. He felt his entire body start to prickle with heat. Brooke reached forward and squeezed his hand.

“No need to get all stammer-y, Jerry.”

“S-sorry, I di-dn’t--”

“All your stammering’s a chore,” his mother sighed, tugging a fistful of napkins out of the dispenser and pressing them into his chest. “Go. Clean yourself up. The entire mall must think you’re a slob.”

Jeremy said nothing as he stumbled out of the chair and ran into the bathroom. Blinking back tears, he tried to wipe the chili off his shirt, but all it did was rub it into the fabric, staining the worn Yoshi shirt. Giving up, Jeremy looked into the mirror. His eyes were puffy. His hair was sticking up in every direction. His cheeks were flushed, almost as red as the acne on his forehead. Mom was right. He did look like a slob. Such a slob. Rubbing his eyes, Jeremy felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He checked his messages.

From P1: how’s shopping with mama heere

To P1: Great! :)

“Wha-what? Sorry, I, I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, whatever you pick out will be cool. No doubt.” With that, Brooke quickly disappeared among the racks and racks of clothes. Alone, Jeremy took a deep breath and fumbled with the zipper on his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a table stocked full of graphic tees. His interest piqued, Jeremy slowly made his way over the table. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, he began sifting through the designs.

Halfway through one pile, Jeremy pulled out a dark grey shirt. It had an U.F.O. on the front, its cow-stealing-or-whatever-they-are rays in the colors of the rainbow. Above and below the design it read, “TOO GAY FOR THIS WORLD.” Laughing to himself, Jeremy put it back in the pile. Michael would totally love that shirt. Maybe he’d get it for him the next time he went shopping with Brooke. Jeremy’s hands froze, surprised at the thought. Jeremy hated shopping. He’d never even gone clothes shopping with Michael before because… well, because…

Jeremy exhaled.

He had never gone shopping with anyone else before, but… this was fun. Hopefully Brooke was having fun too. It was nice hanging out with her. It made him wish he could remember all the times they had spent together before.

But, based off the look on her face earlier, Jeremy was sure he’d regret that wish.

“Nobody likes a crybaby, Jeremiah.”

He was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, tears streaming down his face. Each hiccup seemed to send his whole body into tremors. His mother continued throwing his clothes into the garbage bag, not even looking in his direction.

Jeremy didn’t know what to do to get her to see him.

Why couldn’t she see him?

He cried harder.

“You want those 8th graders to stop hitting you, don’t you? I’m doing you a favor.”

She threw away the Space Invaders shirt.

“Maybe you’ll make new friends this year. It’s doing you no good hanging out with just Michael.”

She threw away the Player 2 shirt, knowing fully well that it had a pair.

“What you need, Jeremiah, is an upgrade."

She threw away the shirt Jeremy’s dad had gotten him at Comic Con.

“Consider this your upgrade.”

She tied the garbage bag shut and handed it to Jeremy. He stared at it.

“Your father will be home soon. You wouldn’t want him to see you like this.”

Jeremy took the garbage bag, hands shaking.

“Get yourself cleaned up before he comes back.”

The next day, Michael asked Jeremy if he had forgot that it was Friday. When he lifted his hoodie to show Jeremy his Player 1 shirt, Jeremy excused himself to the bathroom.

He threw up.

Carrying his selection in one arm and his coffee in the other, Jeremy sat down on one of the dressing room benches. His foot bounced on the tile. Soon enough, Brooke appeared out of the sea of clothes. She was carrying just one item. It was a white knee-length dress with a yellow and pink floral print. It was pretty.

“Oh, I didn’t know we were just picking out, um, one thing,” Jeremy apologized, gesturing to the shirts in his arms. Brooke smiled.

“No, you didn’t know I was just picking out one thing. You’re allowed to pick anything you want. Show me!”

Jeremy smiled nervously as he presented each one.

“I should’ve known you would pick the space-y ones. I’m guessing that last one is for Michael?”

Jeremy shifted in his seat. “Yea-yeah, I was going to get it the next time we went shopping, but then I realized I was assuming that, that you would even want to hang out with me alone again, so I decided to get it now--”

“I think Michael will really like that shirt. And I’d love to hang out with you again, Jeremy.” With that, Brooke disappeared into one of the dressing room stalls.

“I don’t see why you would,” Jeremy mumbled.

After a few minutes, Brooke stepped out of the dressing room. Giving the dress a little twirl, she gestured to Jeremy.

“So? What do you think?”

Jeremy took back his last thought. The dress wasn’t pretty. It was really pretty.

“You look amazing,” he blurted out, slapping his hands over his mouth as soon as he registered the words. Brooke smiled.

“Thanks, Jerry. This has been really fun.” She turned to change back into her clothes, but Jeremy reached forward, grabbing her hand.

“B-brooke? Can I actually talk to you for a sec?”

“Oh. Sure.” She sat down next to him, hands on her lap. “What’s on your mind?”

Jeremy swallowed, his hand twisting around his wrist. “I, um, wanted to… to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yeah. Last fall, I, uh. I treated you badly.” Jeremy looked down at his lap. “I used you. And that was wrong of me, to use your feelings like that. To not consider them at, at all. You deserved someone who valued the time you spent together. And, and you still do! And I do. Now, I mean. I’m really glad we’re friends. And I appreciate you giving me, a sec-second chance. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that, um, I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone, but the fact is I did. I hurt you. And I hope you can forgive me.” Brooke didn’t say anything for several moments and Jeremy felt like he was going to choke on the silence. He eventually worked up the courage to look up at Brooke, and felt his eyes widen at the sight.

Brooke was crying, her tears running past the wobbly smile on her face. She tried to say something, but another burst of tears came and she laughed nervously. Shaking her head, she pulled Jeremy into a hug. Shocked, he relaxed as he felt her laugh against his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back. After a moment, she pulled away, wiping her eyes. Her mascara was a little smudged, but her eyes shone.

“Thanks, Jeremy. That, that really means a lot to me.” Fanning her face, she glanced at the customers giving them strange looks and laughed again. “Oh, God, look at us. Weirdos crying in a store.” She placed her hand on Jeremy’s knee. “Let me go change, then we can go get lunch. What do you say?” Jeremy nodded.

“That, that sounds good.” Brooke smiled and stood up. As she slipped past the dressing room door, Jeremy called out to her. She peeked her head out the door.

“For what it’s worth, I think she'll really like that dress. You’ll look beautiful.”

The pink in Brooke’s cheeks almost seemed to glow. “You… you really think so?”

Jeremy nodded. “Definitely.”

“See ya!”

Jeremy waved as Brooke pulled out of the driveway, his purchases hanging on his wrist. Once she was out of sight, he unlocked the door and headed into the house.

After hanging up his new shirts and shoving the one for Michael under his pillow, Jeremy pulled the Sharpie out of his pocket and carefully crossed out Brooke’s name on his wrist.

His heart feeling a little bit lighter, Jeremy laid down on his bed. He pulled out his phone and tapped on a name.

The voices were loud, but for the first time in a while… they weren’t so unkind.

Jeremy wasn’t sure if he’d want to talk about it.

If he’d want to talk about it with him.

On one hand… it wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know. Sort of. The artificial mind meld had been powerful but not precise. In the end, you were only left with the vague sense of memories that weren’t your own. It had made things… awkward at first. Like their shared experience and non-consensual mind probing was forcing them together.

Did they all really want to be friends?

For a few weeks after, they found themselves tiptoeing around each other. Unsure of what to say. Unsure of what to do. The Squip had said that friendship was a matter of synchronized brain waves. Nothing more. But Jeremy didn’t believe it was that easy. He didn’t believe Brooke would ever want to be his friend. He didn’t believe Jake would ever want to look at him.

He didn’t believe he would ever feel comfortable around Chloe again.

It had been hard at first. But they worked through it. Not all of it, of course, or Jeremy wouldn’t be here, putting off the text carefully typed on his screen. But they had done the best a group of emotionally fucked up kids could do. They slowly opened up to each other. They combed through the scraps of code floating in their brain, putting faces to the disconnected thoughts. But nobody had ever brought up a particular encrypted snippet of ones and zeroes that had flashed through their minds that night.

It just didn’t seem right.

Jeremy had gotten lucky. He had been the primary server, the primary fuck up if you will, so the others hadn’t gotten much out of him other than 'huge crush on Christine Canigula.' There were a lot of things that could have been leaked. Things Jeremy didn’t want others to know. Things he didn’t want to explain. Things he didn’t want to face.

So he understood how he felt.

But Jeremy wanted to at least try. He was one of two people who could help Jeremy figure out the next question embedded in his mind. And Jeremy wasn’t quite ready to tackle a heartfelt conversation with the next person on the list. Not yet. Baby steps, Jeremy. Baby steps.

So he pressed send.

To Dickard: Can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal.

From Dickard: 7 in

Okay, yeah, Jeremy walked right into that one.

To Dickard: Wow, no.

From Dickard: Lmao thats never gonna get old

From Dickard: Whats up

Jeremy rolled onto his stomach, nursing his bottom lip between his teeth. His thumb hovered over the button for a moment before tapping it.

To Dickard: Do you hate your dad?

From Dickard: Jesus

To Dickard: Sorry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.

From Dickard: Is this about ur mom

Jeremy frowned.

To Dickard: Did Michael say something to you?

From Dickard: No but my a-hole radars pretty legit and joel doesnt seem like a bad guy

From Dickard: Ofc I could be wrong so consider this my formal offer to punch ur dad in the tits

To Dickard: Please stay away from my dad’s… everything.

To Dickard: And yeah. It’s about my mom.

Rich didn’t respond right away, which made Jeremy a little nervous. He smoothed the wrinkles in his bedsheets, glancing at his phone every other second. The screen finally lit up.

From Dickard: R u ok?

To Dickard: Yeah.|

Jeremy glanced at the hint of red peeking out from under his sleeve.

He backspaced.

To Dickard: I’m getting there.

From Dickard: U wanna talk about it

To Dickard: Not really.

From Dickard: Thats cool

From Dickard: So u wanna kno about my pops

To Dickard: Yeah. But only if you want to talk about him.

Jeremy didn’t expect a positive response, but the messages came flooding in.

A part of him wondered if Rich had always been waiting for someone to ask.

From Dickard: Idr when he started drinking or if hes ever stopped

From Dickard: He was always home but he wasnt rly there

From Dickard: So its just been my brother and me

From Dickard: It wasnt the worst a kids had to deal with im sure

From Dickard: He threw shit around and wed be in the way sometimes

From Dickard: I remember being afraid

From Dickard: But mostly I was worried about him

To Dickard: Really?

From Dickard: Ik it sounds dumb but theres a stubborn piece of me that insists on still caring for the shitstain even tho I shouldnt

From Dickard: And now that my bros gone its worse

To Dickard: Is he still drinking?

From Dickard: Yea but im always with Jake now

From Dickard: No way I can bring him around my dad

To Dickard: Did he give you shit about, y’know, being bi?

To Dickard: Is that why your Squip made you hide it?

From Dickard: Well my squip knew my chances of popularity would "statistically decrease if I came out to ppl"

From Dickard: But my dad def didnt help

From Dickard: He never rly SAID it but

From Dickard: I just knew what would happen if I came out to him u kno?

“Dude, I totally forgot. Check it!”

Jeremy looked up from his math homework to see Michael push his headphones off one ear and point to his left shoulder. A brand new patch had been carefully sewn into the red material, right above the flags of Ecuador and the Philippines. Upon recognition of the design, Jeremy felt a familiar cold wash down his back and settle in his chest. The thirteen-year-old quickly glanced at his mother, who had been preparing lunch a few feet away. The knife in her hand was still on the cutting board.

She was staring.

“It’s, it’s, um--”

“The pride flag!” Michael was tapping his pencil on the kitchen table to the beat playing in his other ear. “Well, one of them, anyway. Cool, right?” The chill in Jeremy’s chest spread as he saw the undaunted grin on his best friend’s face. Michael felt so safe here.

It made him want to scream.

“Su-super cool.”

“I gotta go to the bathroom. Look at number five for me?” Michael patted Jeremy on the shoulder as he hopped out of his chair. A rhythm in his step, Michael flashed an easy smile at Mrs. Heere and soon disappeared down the hall. Jeremy swallowed hard and looked back down at his homework. His mother turned her attention back to the cutting board.

“He really shouldn’t flaunt it like that.”

Jeremy gripped his pencil tight.

The clock ticked.

To Dickard: How do you think he’d react?

To Dickard: If he knew about you and Jake.

“Just… lean in a little.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that. Now,” Michael brought the joint up to his lips, “when I take a hit, I’m gonna blow the smoke into your mouth.”

“Okay.” Sounded easy enough.

“The thing is I gotta get close. Like, gay close.”

Jeremy snorted. “You’re gay.”

“Yeah, and you aren’t.”

“Dude, it’s cool. I just wanna get high.”

“Like I said,” Michael drew in a long pull from the joint, “not gonna get you that high.” His words were choked at the end as he held in the drag.

Then he leaned in.

Oh.

From Dickard: I think hes always known the truth but

Jeremy felt the ghost of Michael’s lips burn into his mind before he felt the burn in the back of his throat.

If only he had heard the door.

From Dickard: If he actually saw it?

“Out.”

Jeremy stared hard at the floor as Michael practically ran out the room, backpack to his chest. He was barely out the front door before Jeremy’s cheek stung.

“How dare you,” Jeremy yelped as he was jerked off the bed, “do that in my house.” He gasped as his chest hit the floor. “You’re very lucky your father wasn’t home to witness this.... inappropriate display. What do you think he would say if he saw you...?” She couldn't finish the sentence. Jeremy started to pull himself back up, but her heel came hard on his back.

“You make things so hard, Jeremiah. Why do you make me do this?”

“I-I’m so-sorry, I’ll listen ne-next time,” Jeremy choked out, the fifteen-year-old's breath catching on each sob. The weight on his back disappeared.

“You can’t just listen. You have to obey.”

He felt her breath on his ear.

“Now repeat after me.”

To Dickard: Yeah.

Michael blew up his phone for hours, an endless stream of apologies.

Jeremy told him it was okay. His mom just had this huge thing against pot. Typical parents, right?

He didn’t have the heart to tell Michael he was apologizing for the wrong thing.

He was always apologizing for the wrong thing.

From Dickard: Hed kill me

From Dickard: It doesnt matter now tho

From Dickard: Just bc a part of me still loves him doesnt mean I should stick around

To Dickard: Do you ever feel like... you have a sort of obligation to have him in your life, though?

To Dickard: I mean… he’s family.

From Dickard: Look at it this way Jerm

From Dickard: Familys just how u got brought into the world

From Dickard: They got to earn a spot in ur circle just like every other asshole here

From Dickard: So to answer ur question: I dont hate my dad

From Dickard: But it doesnt mean he doesnt deserve to rot in hell

Jeremy looked up from the phone, thinking.

To Dickard: Rich?

From Dickard: Ye boi

To Dickard: I want to say sorry for lying to you about my dad being an alcoholic.

To Dickard: I know it’s something my Squip made me say, but still. I kinda know how it feels for people to act like they know what you’re going through so… I’m really sorry.

Jeremy watched as the ellipse bubble appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

From Dickard: Its ok Jeremy

From Dickard: Ur squip got the details wrong but they got the idea from somewhere in ur brain

From Dickard: Besides if anyone should be asking for forgiveness n shit it should be me

From Dickard: I kinda made u and Mikes life a living hell

The corners of Jeremy’s mouth twitched upwards.

To Dickard: Yeah… but I think we can both use the Squip card here. In the end, we’re probably the ones who really understand what… power they have over someone.

From Dickard: Ur damn fuckin right

To Dickard: But thanks for the apology. And for talking with me.

To Dickard: I’m glad we’re friends now.

From Dickard: Gaaaaaaaaaaaay

From Dickard: <3

Jeremy rolled onto his back, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Before he could even begin to digest the conversation rolling around in his brain, his phone vibrated. Jeremy squinted as he brought the screen up to his face.

From jakey d: heeey jer are you free

Suspicious.

To jakey d: Yeah, what’s up?

From jakey d: can you help me with something

From jakey d: rich isnt answering his phone

To jakey d: Oh, I was just talking to him. I’ll get him for ya.

Jeremy closed out of the conversation to pull back up his and Rich’s, but a text notification immediately popped up at the top of his screen.

From jakey d: no!!!!! thats ok you dont need to get him

From jakey d: just come to my apartment pls umu

Okay, super suspicious.

Brows furrowed, Jeremy typed a hasty “Okay?” and rolled out of bed. Dropping his phone in his jacket pocket, Jeremy jogged down the stairs and out the house. According to the time on his watch, he could barely make it to the bus stop in time to swing over to Jake’s.

Barely.

The bus let Jeremy off across from Jake’s place. He had been in this neighborhood a few times, but he was usually passenger side to Michael. He had never really noticed the manicured lawns and the unsettling variety of garden gnomes.

It kinda had him freaked.

Looking both ways, Jeremy quickly jogged across the street. Sliding past the front iron gate, Jeremy walked up the ramp to the front door. Checking his watch, he hit the buzzer next to Jake's name.

After a minute or so, Jeremy tried again.

“Jake? C’mon, dude, open up.”

Still nothing.

Sighing, Jeremy tried the door handle. It was locked. Duh. Jeremy pulled out his phone.

To jakey d: Can you let me in?

From jakey d: fuck

From jakey d: uh just wait until someone leaves???

To jakey d: Are you not home?

From jakey d: i am definitely in the building

Jeremy groaned. Fine, he'd humor him. It wasn't like he had much else planned for today, and he was okay with putting it off for a while. Sliding his phone back into his back pocket, Jeremy shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around. As the minutes passed on, the bounce of his leg grew more frantic. His impatience wasn't what was getting to him; he couldn't help but feel he looked suspicious just chi-- hanging next to some random complex.

The sound of a loud click snapped Jeremy out of his thoughts. He looked to his left to see an elderly woman make her way out of the building. As soon as she passed him, Jeremy reached out his hand, his fingers stopping the door from latching shut. Glancing over his shoulder, Jeremy opened the door and slipped inside. He quietly closed it behind him and looked around. Jake was nowhere to be seen in the small lobby. Opting for the elevator rather than the stairs, Jeremy rode up to the 7th floor. Kind of a dick move giving his friend (?) one of the top apartments, but the building was pretty accommodating and Jake had yet to complain. Stepping off the elevator, Jeremy headed to Jake's apartment number. It was near the end of the hallway, a couple doors away from the stairs leading to the roof or the first floor. Not really knowing why he bothered, he tried knocking on the door. As expected, no answer. Pressing his ear against the door, Jeremy could faintly hear something in one of the other rooms. Curiosity getting the best of him, Jeremy tried the handle. Unlocked.

Jake’s new place was pretty nice. It was small, but Jake seemed to prefer it over the empty expanse of his parents' old house. Jeremy didn't really know the details, but Jake had been able to afford to move here after the, uh, fire. Rich had helped with a lot of the moving and accommodations as an excuse to get away from his dad and lingering guilt, which is probably how the two even started officially dating in the first place.

Jeremy made a mental note to burn down a house the next time he wanted to hook up with someone. If it could work for Rich Goranski, it could work for him, right?

Right.

As Jeremy passed through the living area, the sound became clearer. It was coming from the stereo system in Jake's bedroom.

Jeremy peeked inside. “Jake?”

Nope.

Jeremy peeked inside the bathroom, around the kitchen island, and even inside the closet. (Because, honestly, it was Jake, and he would do that shit.) As he headed back to the front door, something in Jeremy's head clicked. Turning around, Jeremy silently counted the main mobility equipment lined up against the living room wall. One transport chair, one motorized chair, Jake's old crutches, and the cane Jake strictly used to whack people on the back of the head when they blue-shelled him in Mario Kart.

His manual chair was missing, which meant Jeremy had probably missed him in the other elevator. Or, at least, he hoped so. Closing the door behind him, Jeremy sighed.

"Where the hell are you, Jake?"

“In here.”

Jeremy whipped around at the voice. It came from down the hallway. Jeremy hurried towards the sound, eyes widening at what he found at its source.

“Holy shit.”

“Hey, Heere.”

The door leading to the stairway was propped open, revealing Jake sitting right inside. His elbows were leaning against the bottom stair as he gave a shaky wave. The sight wouldn’t have been too concerning (odd, maybe) if not for the twitches of pain in his welcoming grin. He looked pale. Letting out an almost embarrassing squeak, Jeremy rushed over to him. His hands hovered over Jake’s body awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

“Shit, man, are you okay?”

“I took a little tumble. Nothin’ major, homie,” Jake breathed. His grin faltered as he started to lift himself up, strained by the pain undoubtedly shooting through his lower body.

“Dude, don’t.” Jeremy placed his hands on Jake’s shoulders and gently guided him back down. Nothing major, his ass. Jake wouldn’t have asked him to book it all the way across town if he didn’t think he needed help. “Where, where’s your chair?” Catching his breath, Jake jerked his head back. Jeremy looked up the flight of stairs spiraling up above them.

“I’ll be right back.”

“So-sounds good.”

Carefully stepping around Jake, Jeremy took the stairs two at a time, his hands pushing off the rail at each bend. The door at the top led him out onto the rooftop. The February sun was weak on Jeremy’s back as he spotted Jake’s chair pushed against the wall right next to him. As he lifted the chair and started to fold it in enough to carry, Jeremy took a quick look around. According to Jake, the other residents had taken to growing flowers and other plants on the rooftop a few years back. It had been mild the past winter, but any sign of life up here had yet to make an appearance. That never seemed to matter to Jake, though. Any chance he got, he was up here. Just… staring out at the sky.

Without much to get in the way of his line of sight, Jeremy eventually noticed the elevator across the roof. Confused, Jeremy leaned the folded chair against the wall and went to take a look. It looked normal enough. Upon closer inspection, however, Jeremy noticed that the “down” button was flickering. He pushed it. Nothing happened. Pressing his ear against the metal, Jeremy couldn’t hear anything move or shift behind the elevator door. Huh. Weird.

Not wanting to leave Jake waiting much longer, Jeremy hurried back to the staircase. Once he felt confident enough with his grip, Jeremy lifted the chair and shuffled past the door. Careful not to trip, Jeremy hurried as much as he could down the flight of stairs. As he reached Jake, Jeremy lifted the chair clear over his friend’s (??) head and stepped around him. Unfolding it just outside the doorway, Jeremy wiped his hands on his jeans and offered Jake his hand.

“Thanks, man,” Jake said, grabbing hold. Crouching down to Jake’s level, Jeremy’s arm wrapped around his waist. Shifting Jake’s weight entirely onto him, Jeremy helped him back up into his chair, making sure not to put too much strain on his legs. Once he was settled in, Jake looked visibly better. Jeremy could tell he was still in pain, but he looked more… comfortable. Sure of himself. As the urgency of the situation simmered down, Jeremy felt the familiar tension in his chest. Looking anywhere but at the boy in front of him, Jeremy studied the ground.

His left wrist itched.

“Woo, that’s better. I missed you, beautiful,” Jake cooed.

Jeremy’s head shot up, eyes wide. “Wh-wh--” Jake was running his palms against the tread of the wheels, grinning at his chair. Oh. Oh. Jesus Christ, you idiot. Jake looked up at Jeremy, no indication in his face that he noticed the burning in Jeremy’s.

“Follow me?”

Not really sure on what else he could do, Jeremy dumbly nodded. He managed to return Jake’s kind smile. The prickle on Jeremy’s skin, embarrassment more than anything else, disappeared by the time they entered Jake’s apartment. The stereo system was still on in the bedroom, the music floating into the living room.

As Jake wheeled himself behind the kitchen island, Jeremy took to looking at the walls. There were a few posters and photographs, but what really caught his eye were all the trophies and awards littering the shelves. Most of them were from just last year alone. Knowing Rich, Jeremy figured it was him that had set them all out. When it came to his boyfriend, Rich was almost disgusting. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile.

Almost.

Turning around, Jeremy saw Jake shuffling through one of the drawers. He watched as one, two, then three pharmacy bottles were placed on the counter next to a water glass. Jake checked each label before dropping the correct amount of pills into his open hand. After he had swallowed them down, Jake started putting the bottles away.

“So, uh,” Jeremy scratched his neck, “the elevator broke? Is, is that what happened?”

“Yeah, man. Isn’t that whack?” Jake set the glass in the dishwasher and pushed himself into the little living area. “Only one of the elevators lead up to the roof, so I was pretty much fucked when the button wouldn’t call it back up.” He gestured to the couch, prompting Jeremy to sit down. Jake parked his chair next to the arm of the couch, running his hand through his hair. “PT’s been goin’ well, I thought, “Hey, I can probably manage a few stairs.” Obviously not.” He laughed, and Jeremy found himself admiring Jake’s ability to do that. To laugh at himself. Jeremy’s head started to fill with murmurs.

Water lapped at his ankles.

“You didn’t, didn’t fall down all of them, did you?”

“What? Oh my God, no way. I’d be totally dead, dude.” Jake pointed both thumbs to his chest. “I’ll have you know your boy walked all but eight steps down. Just don’t tell the kids at school.”

Under the control of the Squip, Jake had ended up doing a pretty nasty number to his legs. His doctor had recommended against moderate activity on his crutches, much less abandoning them completely and kicking his classmates’ asses. The fact that Jake hadn’t felt a single thing until he woke up in the hospital was probably the computer program’s one act of mercy. It took a lot of time after the play for Jake to start undoing the damage that had been done to him. But even with the physical therapy, the surgeries, and the medication, he was in a lot of pain. The fractures, the weight, the scar tissue around his muscle… it was just too much for Jake and his bones to handle on a daily basis. So he decided to use a wheelchair.

Jeremy remembered when Rich had told them how excited Jake had been to pick one out. As Jake saw it, a chair meant mobility, freedom, and being able to participate in a lot of his old clubs. Jeremy had never seen the guy more pumped up. Nowadays, Jake continued to see his physical therapist, mostly because the appointments helped him build endurance to stand up for a moment when changing in the locker rooms, or to walk a couple feet when necessary accommodations weren’t possible. So, yeah, Jake could still technically walk, but he didn’t like to in front of others.

The whispers in the hall weren’t exactly quiet.

(“Does he even need that wheelchair?”)

And Jake wasn’t exactly deaf.

“Jake?”

“Yeah, man?”

“Why didn’t you want me to get Rich?”

Jake shrugged. “I dunno, I didn’t wanna bother him while he’s at work.” Texting at work? Classic Rich. “He’s always worried about me; if I show a little independence, maybe the dude will relax a bit. He needs the rest, and I can take care of myself, even if I hit a few rough patches along the way.” He paused. “I thought about hitting up Brooke, but she’s usually with Chloe, and… things aren’t too great between us still. I was gonna text Mike, but everyone knows him and Christine are out of commission every Saturday for their cuddle pile. He’s a good guy, he’d probably swing by for a sec, but… Christine and I? Also not too good. Heh. Who knows about Jenna. She’s been distant lately. So, I went with you.” Jake looked at Jeremy. “I’m surprised you showed up. I appreciate it, man. It would have taken me hella long to crawl back to my place.”

Jeremy frowned. “Why did you think I wouldn’t come?”

“Aw, man, I know you don’t like being ‘round me much.” Jake put his hands up to his chest. “I get it, it’s like how Chris and Chloe don’t really sit on the same end of the booth at Perkin’s.”

Jeremy struggled to get the words out fast enough. “I-I like being around you!” Jake’s eyebrows raised, but he seemed to catch the genuity of the statement. “I just, I dunno, man. It’s complicated.”

“Be careful with your next words, Heere. You might end up breaking Michael’s heart.”

“Wh-what, oh my God, Jake, that’s, that’s not what I mea--”

Jake laughed. “Relax, man. I’m just messin’ with ya. I know it’s just a squad joke, the two of you.” Jeremy said nothing, turning his attention to a loose thread on his jacket. As the silence grew, Jake’s fingers tapped absentmindedly on his armrests. “Is it?” He looked at Jeremy. “A joke, I mean.”

Daring as much as he could, Jeremy shrugged.

“Ah. Gotcha.”

Jeremy felt the ancient question claw up his throat, begging for air. “How, how did you know?”

A pause.

“That you weren’t… straight.”

Surprise flashed across Jake’s features for a moment before melting away to a soft smile. He scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “Aw, man, I dunno. I guess I’ve known since I was a little kid? But I never really gave it much thought until high school.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure what grade he was in.

Senior, maybe?

He had never seen him before.

Now Jeremy saw him all the time.

“I started to wonder if I saw people the way I thought I was s’posed to.”

They had one class together. They shared a desk.

The red of his letterman jacket burned into the corner of Jeremy’s eye as he stared right ahead. The teacher droned on, monotone and lifeless, but Jeremy couldn’t hear a single word.

It was a different shade of red, but Jeremy memorized his laugh all the same.

“And… I think a part of me was afraid to acknowledge it. But there came a point where I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

His hair was wavy and blonde. His eyes were green, not brown.

He had freckles on his nose and a gap in his teeth.

Jeremy waited for it to go away.

It didn’t.

The red was still wrong, but he felt just like Michael.

“So, you, you just accepted it? Just like that?” Jeremy’s voice was quiet.

“Not really. I knew something was up, but I couldn’t really figure out what it was.”

They were sitting on the couch. Jeremy’s skin burned where Michael’s shoulder pressed into his. As they reached the end of the level, Michael looked up from the screen.

“You’ve been quiet, dude. How was school?”

Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at his controller.

“There’s this guy in, in my health class.”

“It’s kind of remarkable how your brain can do so many mental gymnastics just to convince you that you’re like everyone else.”

Jeremy felt the words drip off his tongue.

“I think I want to be his friend.”

“Ye-yeah.” Jeremy glanced at Jake, nervous. “Did you ever have to worry? About your… parents?” The word was bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t a word he liked to say around Jake.

“Oh, you mean if I came out to them?”

Jeremy’s back straightened as he heard his mother walk into the kitchen. He pushed his papers over the worksheet he had been doodling on. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“He-hey, Mom.”

“What did I tell you about stuttering, Jeremiah? No one can understand you.”

Jeremy watched as she put away the groceries.

He didn’t know why he asked.

He just wanted her to love him.

“Mom.”

She sighed. “Yes?”

“How do you feel about Michael?”

He watched as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “He’s your only friend, so I can’t complain.”

“How do you feel about him being…. gay?”

She turned back to the cabinet, pushing the cans into the shelves with a little too much force. “His parents have their ways of… raising children, and everyone can see how that turned out. If that’s what they really want for their son, all we can do is learn from their mistakes.”

“Is it really a… mistake?”

His mother turned around. “What is your point?”

Abandoned by the small shred of courage he had managed to hold on to all these years, Jeremy shrunk in his chair. “I, I was just wondering, hypothetically, if, if I ended up--”

Jake shrugged. “I don’t think they’d mind, honestly.”

“You will not end up being anything.”

Jeremy gripped the edge of the kitchen table as his mother flew at him, his shirt collar bunched up in her fist. He choked on nothing as he was lifted from his chair, knocking his schoolwork off the table. A pencil clattered to the floor.

“It’s my job to make you less pathetic. Why would you want to make yourself the family laughing stock?”

“I, I don’t want to, M-mom, I--”

“I always knew that freak wasn’t good for you.”

“B-but, I, I can’t help it if I’m n--”

“I’ve heard enough. Everything about you is terrible.” She dropped his shirt, pushing him to the ground. Jeremy laid there, unmoving. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat. His face was wet, but he didn’t know with what.

She stepped over Jeremy.

“Everything about you makes me want to die.”

“Ah.”

She left one week later.

Jeremy switched seats.

Jake seemed to notice the shift in Jeremy’s face. He leaned over and put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Is there a… reason you’re asking me this, man?” He hesitated. “It’s not your dad, is it?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“Do you… like Michael?”

Jeremy said nothing.

“You don’t have to answer that.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Jake leaned back in his chair. “No need. You don’t have to tell me your personal biz, Jer. That shit’s between you and Mike.”

Jeremy shook his head, the thread tight around his finger. He yanked it hard. Ignoring the memories rising to the top of the water, Jeremy remembered why he had wanted to talk to Jake in the first place. “Not that. About… the play.”

“The play?”

“I feel like it’s my fault. That… that you can’t walk.” Jeremy sighed, closing his eyes tight. “It’s why I avoid you. Not because, because I don’t like you or anything. I know doing it doesn’t fix any of this, it doesn’t make it better, but I just can’t imagine why you would even want to be around me. And I’m really sorry, Jake, for making you miss out on so many things, for having to deal with those assholes at school and--”

“Can I stop you right there?” Jake’s voice was kind.

Jeremy, unable to make eye contact, nodded.

“I won’t lie. I’ve heard this conversation before,” Jake started, “and I’ll tell you what I’ve told Rich a million times. The blame game is a bitch. And we could play the blame game for a long time, man. Maybe if we hadn’t had drank that Squip Kool-Aid, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe if I hadn’t joined the play. Maybe if Rich hadn’t set that fire.” He glanced at Jeremy. “Maybe if we hadn’t bullied you, you would have never needed the Squip in the first place.” Jake nudged his shoulder. “I could go on and on, but it’s pointless. It’s happened. It’s done. We gotta live in the present, yo.”

“I just… I feel awful. Like, I’m the one that messed things up and I got out with a little phantom pain and a busy head and you--”

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy managed to lift his head. Jake’s face was stern.

“I don’t wanna hear you comparing your hardships to anyone else’s. You got a right to your feelings just the same as me and everyone else.”

“But--”

“And I’m not “missing” anything. I’m complete, I’m whole. I just do shit different now. I got different opportunities. And yeah, it can get fuckin’ frustrating sometimes, but learning new things always is. I don’t want people pointing to me and saying to each other, “Be grateful you’re not like him. He lives a hard life.” Like, fuck. My life was hard before this. You can be grateful for what you got, man. Don’t let yourself pity me, though. I’m not gonna play along with the angst porn. I’ll be happy some days, I’ll be pissed, and it doesn’t need to have anything to do with my situation. That’s just life.” Jake leaned forward in his chair, trying to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “You don’t need to lose a nut every time I’m down in the dumps because you think it boils down to being your fault. It’s… complicated to explain to someone who hasn’t been in my shoes, but I’m doing okay, Jeremy. Really.”

Jeremy wrung his hands in his lap, trying to allow himself the grace Jake was offering him. He took a deep breath, steadied his thoughts, and nodded. He looked up at Jake, and returned his smile with a nervous one. “Okay. Okay.”

“Cool.” Jake’s gently punched Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy awkwardly rubbed his arm, his and Jake’s definition of “gentle” obviously very, very different. “Y’know, you guys are more bitch ass than you give yourselves credit for. I was…” Jake paused, looking for the right words. “A little worried at first. How people would react and shit. Sometimes, when Rich pushes my chair instead at school… people don’t talk to me. Like, they’re talking to me, but they’re looking at Rich. They’re expecting an answer from him. Like they can’t even see me, man.” Jake’s smile dimmed for a moment, his eyes troubled, but the glow soon returned. “But, not you guys. There’s a few slip ups every now and then, I mean, shit, no one’s perfect, but everyone tries their best. I can tell.” Jake started to laugh. “Like Christine? How many chain restaurants in town has she shut down for not having up-to-code accessible entrances?”

Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think she’s up to three now.”

“I’m never left out of plans. I know you guys are watching my back. And that… means a lot, Jer. I can’t say the same for a lot of people.” Silence loomed on the back of Jake’s last word, heavy on the air between them. Jeremy wasn’t sure if Jake wanted to go that direction, so with an awkward smile he offered him a way out.

“You don’t have to thank me. Or, or any of us. We’re your friends.”

Jake was his friend.

“I, I feel like I should! It’s nice not being--” Jake stopped, the words catching in his throat. He closed his mouth, paused, then opened it again. “Not being left behind.”

Okay, so maybe he did want to talk about it.

“Can I ask you something?” Jeremy asked. “It’s kinda personal.”

“He’s seven inches.”

Jeremy groaned as Jake’s grin threatened to split his face in half. God, they really were perfect for each other. “That isn’t, and never will be, what I meant.”

“What do ya wanna know, homeslice?”

“Could you tell me about your mom and dad?”

Jeremy watched as Jake ran his palms across the top of the chair’s wheels, a nervous habit he had picked up in the past couple months. He eventually spoke up.

“Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”

“With my dad. Sorta.”

“Did your mom leave? Shit, I’m sorry, that’s super rud--”

Jeremy stopped him. “Yeah. She left.”

“Do you ever talk about it? Like, the shit with your mom?"

“Not, not really.”

“I wish I could. About my parents.” Jake’s voice was soft, almost distant. “But, I couldn’t. Not with Rich, y’know? His dad -- his dad is bullshit, man. And I’d feel shitty, complaining to him when his life was like that.”

Jeremy leaned to the side, head tilted towards Jake’s. “Someone once told me not to compare my hardships to other people's,” he stage-whispered. Jake scoffed.

“Nice try, Heere.”

“I could listen. If, if you want. That’s why I asked.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me. At least, not anymore than you usually do.” Jeremy’s smile was awkward as it always was, but it was kind.

Jake hesitated. “I had it pretty good growing up. I owned a lot of shit, I ate every day. Any club or sport I wanted to do, my parents threw money at. I… I really have no reason to complain. But… I was so lonely. I tried to fill the time with recitals and games and matches, but every time I looked out into the crowd and saw their faces missing, I just felt worse. Like I couldn’t fill that hole, no matter what I did.” Jake ran his hand through his hair, almost laughing. “It’s crazy, uh, my parents came up to me last year and asked me how I felt about emancipation. Except my answer didn’t really matter in the end.”

Jeremy started. “You, you’re emancipated?”

Jake nodded, pain in the gesture. “I went with it because I didn’t know what else to do. But they knew what they were doing. As a legal adult, I could own the house, fully paid, that was now in my name. I could benefit from the insurance policies and… with the dozens of savings bonds stashed in my account, I had no clear financial connection to them. The police tried, they really did. But they couldn’t trace any of the money back to my parents, which meant they couldn’t seize the property or the bank accounts. My mom and dad had covered their tracks perfectly.”

Jeremy bit his lip. He had heard bits and pieces of what had happened to Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger, but never the full story. Never what they had left their only child with. “At least that shows they cared, right? To protect you like that.”

Jake’s voice was small. “It just showed me how prepared they were to abandon me.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to say. “Um, have you heard from them? Since, since the play?”

Jake shook his head. “It’s okay, though. Rich is here to help me out, and I have you guys to keep me company. It’s so nice to see familiar faces at my games and shit, you have no idea.”

“Do you ever wish… you could see them, though? Just one last time?”

Jake thought about it for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He smiled. “So I could show them how well I’m doing without them.”

Jeremy felt something stir in his chest. “It's getting close to dinner. I should probably head out. But, uh, can I go to the bathroom for a sec?”

“Sure, man. And, hey.” Jake squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder. “Thanks for talking with me. It was cool getting that off my chest.”

“No, no problem.” Jeremy stood up and walked into the bathroom. As he closed the door, he could see Jake wheeling over to the kitchen. Sitting down on the toilet seat, Jeremy fished the red pen out of his jacket pocket and pulled up his sleeve. Uncapping it with his teeth, Jeremy carefully crossed out Jake’s name on his wrist. Studying the list for a moment, Jeremy furrowed his brows and added one last name to the unfinished list.

As he said goodbye to Jake and headed back to the bus stop, Jeremy felt the slightest swagger in his step.

He knew what he had to do.

“Thanks.”

The driver grunted in acknowledgment as he reached over and pulled the lever. The doors folded shut. Jeremy stood still as the bus rumbled to life and pulled away from the stop, the wind from its departure whipping his jacket back and forth. He watched as it crawled down the block, past the bare cypress trees and eventually out of view. Once again, the neighborhood fell silent.

He was alone now.

Jeremy exhaled. It was already getting dark. Feeling the setting sun in his cheeks, he shoved both hands into his pockets. He should probably get going. Jeremy glanced both ways before stepping off the curb and doing a weird, little half-jog across the street. The bus stop was only a few blocks from his house. If he walked quickly, Jeremy could probably make it before the chill permanently settled in his bones.

As Jeremy made it up his street, he noticed a car sitting in his driveway. Frowning, he freed his right hand from the warmth of his jacket and checked his watch. Weird. It wasn’t even six yet. As he walked up the driveway, Jeremy brushed his hand against the hood of the car. It was ice cold. His fingers jerked back. Jeremy felt a familiar pang work its way up his throat as he looked at the house. He swallowed it back down. It was February. Of course the engine was cold, right?

Right.

Climbing up the front steps, Jeremy dug in his jacket pockets. Pulling out his keys, cold fingers fumbled for the right one. Bike lock. Car key. Michael’s car key. Garage door. Prop room at school. House k-- Nope. Michael’s house. In his hurry, he had barely noticed the “P1” in child’s scrawl on the side. Michael’s idea. Jeremy had rolled his eyes at the time, but Michael had been presented with a key labelled “P2” all the same. Even though he wasn’t really allowed to use it until after Mom left, Michael had been ecstatic nonetheless. On a better day, Jeremy probably would’ve smiled at the memory. Today, his lips barely twitched.

Jeremy decided to blame it on the cold.

“Gotcha,” Jeremy finally muttered, thumbing the correct key. He slipped it into the lock and turned, but found no resistance. It was already unlocked. The pang came back, twice as strong and settling in the pit of his stomach. Churning. Of course the door was unlocked, right?

Right.

Shoving his keys back into his pocket, Jeremy turned the handle and stepped inside. Closing the door gently behind him, he toed off his shoes and walked down the hallway. The lights were all off. Jeremy rubbed his hands together, breathing between his palms. At least the heat was on. Peeking in, Jeremy could tell the living room was just how he had left it that morning. He backtracked and walked into the kitchen, flicking on the light. Jeremy spotted his bowl in the dishrack. Nothing new in the sink. Jeremy checked out the papers on the table. Just a few bills and one of those shopping catalogues. Dated yesterday. He set them back down.

The clock ticked.

Jeremy took a deep breath and headed down the other end of the hallway. The hardwood creaked under the carpet as he walked. Other than the pounding in his head, it was the only sound in the entire house. Jeremy’s fingers curled over the hem of his sleeves, anxiously twisting the fabric with his thumbs. Of course. This scene was right on script. He had memorized his part months ago.

Jeremy just hoped he had missed his cue.

Walking past the first floor bathroom, Jeremy stopped in front of the home office. The door was closed. Jeremy rose his hand to knock, but hesitated just as he snapped his wrist forward. His knuckles rested against the wood. Jeremy stood there for a moment, staring at the carpet as he contemplated if he really wanted to check. He could just go upstairs. Eat leftovers. Text Brooke or something. Pretend he didn’t notice. Pretend he didn’t care. Jeremy had been doing that for a while now, anyway.

He’d gotten pretty good at it.

Jeremy shook his head. No. Maybe it wasn’t his job to be the parent, to be the mature one, but Jeremy wanted to make sure he at least knew that he noticed. That he cared. That he always did and he was just… scared. Scared like he was now. Scared like he was back then.

Closing his eyes, Jeremy gently knocked.

No response.

He opened the door.

The office was empty. The streetlights flickered on outside, shining through the half-closed blinds. The yellow glow contrasted with an out-of-place white glare. From the looks of it, the computer screen was still lit. Jeremy walked around the desk, being careful not to trip on a stack of manilla folders on the ground. Sliding into the leather chair, Jeremy looked at the desktop. The background was a picture of his dad kneeling on the grass, Jeremy and Michael under each arm. A nice lady at the park had offered to take the picture for them. They were probably seven or so. Jeremy swallowed. He remembered that day.

“Jeremy? Are you coming?”

Jeremy stood at the bottom of the jungle gym, studying the pattern of the rubber mulch. He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, then placed them back on the poles. Still sweaty. Michael was a few bars above him, glasses dangerously close to slipping off his face.

“Jer-beaaar.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Jeremy muttered. He immediately winced. “I, I mean when my mom’s around. Y’know she hates that name.”

Michael blew out a steady stream of air, then pulled himself back upright. “Ohh-kay, Jer-e-mi-ah.” He started to climb. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Jeremy didn’t move. He could still hear them, near the benches. His mom’s voice was getting louder. His dad’s was getting smaller. Jeremy looked over his shoulder.

All the other kids were starting to stare too.

“Hey.”

Jeremy turned around. Michael was sitting on the lowest bar, holding his hand out. It was still stained red from his popsicle earlier. Dad’s treat.

“I’ll help you up.”

Jeremy looked at his hand, then back down at the ground. He shook his head.

He couldn’t move.

Michael stared at him, then past him. His face shifted.

Jeremy looked back up.

Michael was climbing.

Tapping his fingers on the desk, Jeremy hovered over the Google Chrome icon. He wasn’t really sure why he was looking. Or what he was looking for, really. Maybe it was just a shifty way to pass the time. Delay the inevitable. Jeremy maximized the browser. There were a few tabs open. One was the portal to his dad’s work -- automatically logged out after fifteen minutes of inactivity. Another was his dad’s email account for work. A confirmation letter was pulled up for the all-day conference being held in the next city over. It was tomorrow. Jeremy moved on to the last tab. It was his dad’s personal email account. The last received email caught his eye. The subject line was “Sunday.” Jeremy clicked on it.

Joel,

I’m sure you’re aware of why I’m contacting you.

“-- not here. Not with the boys.”

Jeremy’s nails dug into his palms.

“It’s not my fault -- needs a better role mo--”

His shoulders started to shake.

“Jeremy is -- perfectly fine -- need help, Meredith!”

I understand we’ve had our differences in the past. We have never agreed on how to raise Jeremiah. I had my ways and you had yours, albeit sometimes unnoticeable due to your… frequent issues. Often, it was up to me to take care of him.

The kids were starting to point.

The parents were starting to whisper.

You must understand how much pressure that was, Joel. Jeremiah is difficult, always has been. Trust me when I say I did my best. I did what I had to do to ensure that he wouldn’t end up like you. We both know that he would be doomed to a life of unhappiness and difficulty otherwise. But, I digress. I’d like you to know that I… took your advice. I’ve been working on myself this past year. Talking to someone.

Jeremy crumpled to the ground, knees to his chest. He covered his ears with his hands. No matter how tight he squeezed his eyes, he could still hear them. Feel them.

Why wouldn’t they stop?

I’ve changed.

Why couldn’t they stop?

And I want to see my son.

He barely heard the shout above him.

“HEY!”

Jeremy looked above him. Michael was standing on top of the jungle gym, waving his arms. His grin was wide, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

“I’m King of the Castle!”

I would hope that your own feelings in regards to our separation wouldn’t get in the way of me doing so. After all, he is my son just as much as he is yours. He belongs to both of us. If I want to see him, I feel like I should be allowed to.

Jeremy stood up just as the other children came barreling towards him, laughing and giggling among each other. He stumbled out of their way, away from the mob and the jungle gym. Jeremy glanced over his shoulder just as the first few kids put their hands on the bottom poles. Michael was still on the very top, legs shaking. The kids were staring at him as they climbed up. Too many eyes. Jeremy wanted to tell them to stop. That it was too much for Michael.

He’s had enough time to understand that what happened was for the best.

What had he been thinking?

I would like an answer by tonight so I can make the necessary arrangements.

Michael’s foot slipped.

I’d prefer if it came from Jeremiah himself.

Jeremy heard a sickening crack.

So, there will be no need to respond to this email.

His dad ran past him.

I’ll be waiting.

His mom stayed behind.

- Meredith

Jeremy minimized the browser. His head was full of static.

Jeremy sat on the edge of Michael’s bed, hunched over and writing his name on the cast in his nicest print.

His dad had bought him a brand new pack of scented markers that weekend. The good kind. When he had dropped Jeremy off at Michael’s house, his dad had told him to be sure to use the red one. He had made sure at the store that it was cherry-scented. Just for Mike.

When he was done, Jeremy drew a few of Michael’s favorite Pokemon. The characters from Magic were just too complicated. After a while, Jeremy sat up. He was sure to leave some room for Tita and Tito and all of Michael’s cousins to put something too. Michael lifted his arm, grinning.

“That’s so cool! How’d ya draw Growlithe so good?” He looked back up at Jeremy. His eyes widened. “Wh- why are you crying?”

Jeremy spent the next hour curled up in Michael’s side, mumbling apologies and planting sloppy kisses on his bruised fingers, palm, knuckles. After each “sorry,” Michael only laughed and told him to stop. There wasn’t any need to apologize. What did Jeremy have to apologize for?

“I just didn’t want them lookin’ at your mom and dad anymore.”

Jeremy kept crying.

Jeremy stared at the desktop background. He studied the tangles in his blonde hair. The gap between Michael’s baby teeth.

He briefly wondered if that had been the day he had taught Michael to hurt himself in order to fix things.

To fix Jeremy.

He shoved the thought away.

Standing up from the desk, Jeremy slowly pushed the chair back in and left the office. His legs felt heavy. His head felt worse. The static was growing louder, drowning out his thoughts. Drowning out the voices.

Jeremy almost wished for them back.

He found himself at the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, but the lights didn’t seem to be on. Jeremy softly knocked on the door. Thinking hard, he manually recalled how to speak.

“Dad?”

No response.

Biting his bottom lip, Jeremy pushed the door open. It creaked, low and steady.

It was dark, save for orange lines streaming through the closed blinds. They landed on the bed, where Jeremy could see a figure hunched over. A blanket was draped over his shoulders.

Jeremy felt suddenly smaller.

He took a step inside.

“Dad?”

He didn’t dare turn on the lights.

Jeremy’s dad turned around, slowly. He looked… old. Jeremy didn’t know how he had never noticed the bags under his father’s eyes, the creases around his eyes and cheeks.

“Oh, Jeremy,” his dad said. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were home. Are you hungry? I’ll make dinner.” He started to get up, but Jeremy stepped forward.

“No, I’m good, Dad. I was just wondering about, about…" Jeremy trailed off. He already knew the answer to this. “Why your car was here. That’s all.” He scratched the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “Y’know, because you, uh. You’re gone ‘til six.” Jeremy’s voice was quiet. “Usually.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeremy looked up at his father.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. For making you live with this.”

Jeremy waved his hands in front of his chest. “Dad, no, it’s fine. We all have our bad days, nothing to, to stress about.” He pointed his thumb behind him. “I, I can make dinner. That’s a thing I can probably do, yeah.”

“I’m sorry for never seeing it. Any of it.”

Jeremy’s blood ran cold.

Michael popped his sucker out of his mouth. “When’s your dad comin’, anyway?”

Jeremy swung his legs, the heel of his sneakers just missing the asphalt. “I dunno. Should be soon.” He took another drink from his juice box, then silently handed it to Michael. Michael took a sip, then handed it back. Jeremy fiddled with the straw.

Oh, right. Before he forgot.

“Hey, Mikey?”

Michael perked up. “Yeah?”

“Remember when we built that super awesome fort at your house yesterday?”

Michael grinned. “Yeah. Did’ja wanna do that again today?”

Jeremy licked his lips. “Um, uh, yeah! Yeah we can, it’s just, uh. Y’know.” He laughed, the sound a little too high-pitched. “I got this totally nasty bruise from falling off the loft bed. Did you notice that?”

Michael’s mouth dropped open. “Really? That’s so hardcore. Can I see?” Jeremy gave a sharp nod, automatically setting his juice box down and rolling his pants leg up. His shin was covered in deep purple splotches, marked with smudges of green and sickly yellow. Michael gave a low whistle. It wasn’t perfect, but he had been practicing lately.

“It, it goes up my leg too. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Oh, man, yeah. You did all that just from falling?”

“Uh, yeah.” Just then, a car pulled up. Jeremy hurriedly pushed his pants leg back down. He turned to Michael. “So, um, we should probably ask my dad first if it’s okay if we do it again. Since, since I got hurt ‘n stuff.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, yeah, totally.”

As they piled into the backseat, Jeremy’s dad smiled at them through the rearview mirror. “How was school today, boys?” he asked. The car pulled out of the parking lot.

“Good!” Michael chirped. He leaned forward, hands on the back of Jeremy’s dad’s seat. His seatbelt strained against his chest. “Is it okay if we build a brand new fort at my house, Mr. Heere? I promise we’ll make it way, way safer so Jeremy doesn’t get hurt.”

Jeremy’s dad raised an eyebrow. “What’s this about you getting hurt, private?”

Jeremy had already practiced this conversation in his head twelve times today, but Michael beat him to it.

“He fell off my loft bed -- it’s a bed but it’s, like, up in the air, in case ya didn’t know -- and he bruised up his leg real bad! But he’s totally okay, I made sure, and I’ll make my mom bake him some cookies because those always make me feel better super fast. They’re real good.”

Jeremy’s dad laughed. “Well, it seems that you have it all under control, Doc.” His eyes in the mirror turned to Jeremy’s direction. “I’ll want to check your leg out when you get home, but it sounds like you’re doing okay. Let me know right away the next time you hurt yourself, okay?”

Jeremy nodded. “Sure, Dad. Of, of course.”

Michael leaned back in his seat, gently punching Jeremy’s shoulder. He leaned into his ear. “Dude, this is gonna be great. It’ll be even better than yesterday. Aren’t you excited?”

Jeremy smiled. “Yeah.”

Michael had always been a terrible liar.

But he wasn’t half bad when he thought it was the truth.

“No. No, no, no, Dad, you can’t do that.” Jeremy stepped inside, crawling onto the bed. “You, you can’t blame yourself. I made sure no one co-could see, okay? You weren’t the only one, you couldn’t have known. No one could.”

His dad looked away from him, shaking his head. “I just keep thinking if maybe if I had paid better attention. If I hadn’t worked so much.”

“D-dad--”

“Those bruises, Jeremy. I saw them every day and I never thou--” An ugly sob escaped his lips. Jeremy’s eyes widened. Nononono. He scrambled across the bed to his father’s side, wrapping his arms around his dad tight, trying to hold all the broken pieces together. Each shudder from his father’s shoulders pushed Jeremy further and further, until finally the tears came hot and heavy down his own cheeks. Jeremy buried his face into the crook of his dad’s neck, trying not to choke on the taste of salt. Gasping for breath, his father finally spoke again.

“I failed to protect you, Jeremy. I can’t -- can’t ever apologize enough for that.”

Another sob wracked through Jeremy’s body as he shook his head into his father’s neck. He struggled to breathe between each word. “Sh-she hurt you, she hurt you all the time, Daddy. When you fou-found out, she just hu-hurt you more. It was all, all my f-fault.”

Jeremy flinched as another door slammed. The voices downstairs grew louder, but he tried to tune it out. Ignore the guilt churning in his stomach. The bile in his throat.

His laptop dinged. A reply.

[16:36] Michael Mell: still grounded??

[16:36] Jeremiah Heere: Yeah. No phone, no video games.

[16:36] Michael Mell: and no michael :(

[16:36] Jeremiah Heere: Yeah, no Michael either.

[16:36] Michael Mell: it’s been like a week man

[16:36] Michael Mell: is the window unlocked?

[16:37] Jeremiah Heere: It’s bolted now. If I touch it, Mom would kill me.

[16:37] Michael Mell: :( x2

[16:37] Jeremiah Heere: Sorry, dude. No climbing for you.

[16:37] Michael Mell: ugh i even dropped off your hw for you again and she wouldn’t even let me take it up to you

[16:37] Michael Mell: which btw it’s weird that your parents keep you from school when you’re grounded

[16:37] Michael Mell: i’m a little jealous, that sounds awesome (minus the no video games thing)

Jeremy set the ice pack down so he could type faster. It was still a little hard with one eye.

[16:38] Jeremiah Heere: Yeah, it’s pretty sweet, I guess.

[16:38] Jeremiah Heere: Thanks for dropping everything off, by the way.

[16:38] Michael Mell: no problem dude

[16:38] Michael Mell: so what have you been up to

A crash echoed up the stairs. A shout. Crying.

Jeremy stumbled to the bathroom.

“Jeremy.” His dad pulled Jeremy’s face up to look at him, both hands on his cheeks. “What your mother did to you was never your fault. Do you hear me?” Jeremy swallowed, his eyes fixed on the tears slipping in the creases of his father’s face. “You did the right thing. You told someone. That was so, so incredibly brave of you.”

Jeremy sniffed. “B-but, you got hurt.”

[16:46] Michael Mell: jer??

[16:48] Jeremiah Heere: Sorry, back.

[16:48] Jeremiah Heere: I haven’t done much. Just homework, I guess?

Jeremy struggled to focus on the conversation in front of him.

Focus on Michael. Focus on the red.

He hadn’t heard his dad in a while.

[16:48] Jeremiah Heere: What about you?

[16:49] Michael Mell: i picked up this game on tuesday

[16:49] Michael Mell: it’s called apocalypse of the damned

[16:49] Jeremiah Heere: Wow, edgy.

[16:50] Michael Mell: i know, right??

[16:50] Michael Mell: you’ll play it with me right

The crashing was getting louder. It roared in his ears, filling his head with water.

Jeremy tried to breathe.

[16:52] Jeremiah Heere: course

[16:52] Jeremiah Heere: soon as i can

Why couldn’t he breathe?

[16:52] Michael Mell: jer?

He disappeared beneath the undercurrent.

[16:53] Michael Mell: waka waka???

Claws ripped at his chest.

Jeremy reached for red on the surface.

[16:54] Michael Mell: jeremy i swear to god

[16:54] Michael Mell: i’ll kick down the door i don’t care

Jeremy gasped for air.

[16:54] Jeremiah Heere: waka waka

[16:54] Michael Mell: are you sure????

[16:55] Jeremiah Heere: yeah i just

Jeremy winced as a sharp pain shot through his forehead. The crashing had become screaming. He was sure they were throwing things now. His eye stung. His lungs hurt.

He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to leave. He just wanted--

[16:56] Jeremiah Heere: i just want to hear your voice

Jeremy watched as the ellipse bubble appeared and disappeared several times.

[16:58] Michael Mell: one sec

Jeremy’s dad smiled, kind and a little bit broken. “Your mother had been hurting me for a while, Jer. But nothing hurt me more than finding out what she had been putting you through all those years. And I would go through all of it again if it meant keeping you from going through one more day of that abuse.”

Jeremy’s bottom lip trembled. He shut his eyes tight. “I’m so, so s-sorry.” His dad brought his head to his chest, smoothing down his hair. Jeremy could feel his father’s heartbeat. Soft and steady. He sniffled. As Jeremy focused on the sound, the tears streaming down his face started to slow.

[17:00] Michael Mell: ok turn the radio on to that shitty station you like so much

[17:00] Michael Mell: it should be airing now

“You don’t have anything to feel sorry for, Jer. Nothing you have ever done justifies that sort of punishment.”

Jeremy sighed against his father’s chest. “That, that’s not what I want to apologize for.”

Shuffling through the noise in his head, Jeremy managed to fumble with the correct dials. Another kind of static filled the air, fading into the smooth voice of the usual afternoon DJ. He was taking song requests. Someone was on the phone with him.

“Nice song choice! Anything you want to say to our listeners?”

“Um, just that it’s for, for my best friend.”

Jeremy felt his stomach do a somersault.

Michael.

“ He’s ki-kinda on house arrest right now. It’s one of his favorites.”

The call transitioned into the song, filling the room with soft notes and a gentle love song. Swallowing, Jeremy turned the volume up.

Over the sound of his heartbeat.

Over the sound of his head.

Over the sound of the screams.

[17:04] Jeremiah Heere: Thank you.

[17:06] Michael Mell: what are friends for

“I… I held a lot of resentment after, after Mom left. I was really angry,” Jeremy confessed, his voice quiet. “I was, I was upset. I was confused. I was happy. I was… lost. And I really wanted someone to look to for, I dunno, guidance? Support? And I know now, I know you were going through your own stuff. You were dealing with things. But at the time, I was just so… pissed off.” Jeremy winced. “So-sorry. I mean ticked off.”

Jeremy’s dad laughed, just barely. “I think “pissed off” is a good phrase to use.” He wrapped his arms tighter around Jeremy, kissing the top of his head. “Just say how you feel, son.”

“I took a lot of my sh-- my shit out on you. I should have been more considerate. I know what you’re gonna say, that it’s not my job to be the parent, but I think it’s my job to be… a decent person? Or something? I should have just asked how you were doing. Maybe I can’t fix it, maybe it’s not my responsibility to, but I’ve kinda learned recently that you only owe love to the people that deserve it, and Dad --” Jeremy tilted his head up to meet his father’s eyes ”-- you definitely deserve it. Deserved it. And I’m sorry for shutting you out for so long. Maybe, maybe we both could have felt better a lot sooner if we had just… talked. Even once.”

“Oh, Jeremy.” His dad sighed. “I don’t think my battles were ones you ever needed to take on, but thank you. Your words mean a lot to me. I think communication is something we can definitely work on in the future. If you’re up to it, anyway.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes as he faced his father.

“You know that I love you, son.”

“I, I know.” Jeremy breathed in. There was the question again. Right in the back of his mind.

Should he?

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

Could he handle the answer?

Jeremy swallowed.

He had to know.

“How would you feel… if, um…” He closed his eyes, balling the sheets in his fists. “I, I wasn’t. I wasn’t straight?”

A pause. His heart was pounding in his chest.

“Jeremy. Look at me.”

Jeremy opened his eyes.

“If I have ever done or said anything that would make you doubt for even a moment that I wouldn’t still love and care for you with all my heart, I truly apologize. That is failure on my part as your father. You should never feel like you have to sit and beg for my acceptance -- I should be thankful that you still want me in your life, because I’m sure I’ve probably said or done things in the past that might have upset or hurt you in that regard.”

“S-so, you’d really love me despite if I wa--”

Jeremy’s dad placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I will always love you, Jeremy. Not despite anything, but because of everything that you are. I have never been prouder than when I remember that you are my son. Nothing could ever change that feeling.”

Jeremy nodded fast, blinking back another wave of tears. “S-same.”

“Hm?”

“I, I love you too, Dad. Not, not despite your bad days or, or your mental health. I love everything that makes you my dad. I re-really mean that.”

Jeremy’s father smiled, the gesture finally reaching his eyes. “It’s getting late. How about you go clean up, and I’ll figure out dinner? How does that sound?”

Jeremy smiled. “Okay. Sure.” He stood up and headed for the door.

“Thank you, Jer. For talking to me tonight. I think I really needed that.”

Jeremy turned around, resting his head on the side of the doorway. “Me too. And, and I think I made my decision. I think I’m going to see her.” Jeremy’s dad paused.

“If, if that’s what you want. But I don’t want to leave you alone with her. You’re older now, but… I left you alone for far too many years. I want to be there.”

“Dad, you have that conference tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not a question, Jer. I leave early morning, but I’ll be home by six. Have her come then.”

“Will you be okay, Dad? Seeing her?”

“Will you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“I guess we’ll both see, then. Now, go clean up, private. I’ll order takeout.”

“Okay.”

Jeremy headed up the stairs, feeling a familiar weight in his bones. He dragged his hand down his bedroom wall, eventually hitting the lightswitch. Squinting, Jeremy made his way to his bed and laid down. Everything felt heavy, except maybe his heart. Lifting up his left arm, Jeremy pulled his sleeve down. Digging in his pocket, he took out the pen. Popping off the cap, Jeremy carefully crossed out the next name. Three down. Two to go. Jeremy studied the bottom one.

It was time.

Lifting himself off the mattress a bit, Jeremy fished his phone out of his back pocket and unlocked it. He swiped through the notifications; he’d look at them later. Pulling up his most recent conversations, Jeremy scrolled to the unsaved number from Thursday night. Starting a new message, Jeremy stared at it for a moment before pressing “send.”

To [Unsaved Number]: I’ll see you at 6:00.

Just like that, Jeremy Heere had dug his own grave.

And though it might be wishful thinking, a part of him thought he just might like the Jeremy that would be born in his place.

It was starting to burn.

Jeremy stood under the shower head, water trailing down his forehead in little streams and dripping off the ridge of his brow. His lashes fluttered each time a stray drop caught on them, but he made no effort to move. Jeremy wasn’t sure he remembered how. He lazily searched his mind for the right command, but it was no use. No point. The steam rolling over Jeremy’s shoulders was fogging up his brain, slowly deep-frying nerves and short-circuiting the corrupted code in his head. One by one, Jeremy could hear garbled taunts fade into a soft dial tone. Offline.

Even her’s.

But the kinder ones, if they could be called that, remained. The ones that sounded like cherry syrup and fresh spearmint and honey flavored chai. Their murmurs bumped into one another, low and off-sync as if they were having a private conversation. Every so often, Jeremy caught the hint of a name behind his ears. A word. A secret. But the voices paid no mind to him, so Jeremy eventually paid no mind to them.

Cold water lapped at his ankles, it always did, but the tide was low. The water was still.

He had almost forgotten what free will felt like.

Jeremy stared at the bottom of the shower, watching the turn of the water going down the drain. The suds were long gone. In the corner of his mind, behind whispers of sour green apple and cinnamon candy, Jeremy vaguely registered his back starting to sting. No. Burn. It was definitely starting to burn. The thin, pink scars trailing up Jeremy’s spine flared up as hot water continued to spill down the curve of his back. How long had it even been? Twenty minutes? Thirty?

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Jeremy liked the bathroom. He always had. It was where he went whenever things got too much. When… downstairs got too much. It was kinda funny, actually. When Jeremy was little, he found out he could just barely squeeze himself between the toilet and the counter, just out of sight from the bathroom door. In the dark, knees tucked into his chest, Jeremy would thread his fingers through his hair like Mom used to do and hum the Ben 10 theme song. Each time the voices grew louder, he’d hum a little harder.

Sometimes he’d have to scream just to drown them out.

And it was really funny how Jeremy would stay like that for hours and no one ever seemed to notice. He’d just sit there and cry, and rock, and wait. Wait for whatever was supposed to come next. Because something had to come next. Jeremy had told himself that every day, as if the very thought itself was what hung the sun in the sky each morning. And when it didn’t, when the days became weeks became bruises became lies, Jeremy still waited because that’s all he had been taught to do. It was all he could do.

It was funny. Really.

Somewhere in the distance, Jeremy felt his fingers reach forward and turn the shower knob. A sigh escaped his lips, almost pained, as a fresh wave of heat hit his skin, searing the circuits buried underneath. Jeremy liked the bathroom. He did. Maybe the times spent there weren’t the best, but Jeremy always did feel better coming out than when he came in.

Except once.

Just as whiskey-soaked bubblegum began to override his senses, Jeremy skipped that memory across the water and let it sink beneath the murky surface of his thoughts. The others looked up, watching from afar. Jeremy caught the glint of dark brown eyes. Familiar, yet off.

Hollow.

Jeremy opened his own.

They weren’t real. He had to remember that.

None of them were.

See, Jeremy liked the bathroom because in here it was just him, the steam, and the empty echo of water hitting tile. Against cold porcelain, under scorching water, everything else just… melts away. At least for a while. But Jeremy still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. Of being overheard. He had made sure the door was locked five times.

So why did he still feel like she would know?

She already did, though, didn’t she?

So did he.

“I like boys.”

As soon as the words slipped out they disappeared, buried beneath the steady drum of the water. Here one moment, gone the next.

No longer hypothetical.

But Jeremy could still taste them in his mouth, wrapped around his tongue like a dirty confession. His stomach turned. Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, Jeremy closed his eyes and tried again.

“I like boys.”

Again.

“I like boys.”

Michael whispered in his ear, lips grazing his skin.

“I like boys.”

Michael’s hand brushed against his.

“I like boys.”

Michael laughed, soft and low.

“I like boys.”

Michael smiled.

“I like --”

Michael.

Jeremy shut off the water.

After drying off and giving his head enough time to re-run its code, Jeremy changed into a clean pair of boxers and his old Space Camp sweater. Fishing around in the small pile of discarded clothes on the floor, he recovered the pen nestled in his jacket pocket and uncapped it. Jeremy sat down to rewrite the names on his wrist, now faded from the shower, but noticed the sleeves of his sweater were a little short. Not surprising, considering how old it was, but concerning. He eventually decided to set the pen and its cap on his desk for later; no point in risking any awkward questions. Hand dragging down the rail, Jeremy finally headed down the stairs with heavy steps. His hair was still wet, a few curls sticking uncomfortably to his forehead, but Jeremy figured his dad wouldn’t mind. The Heere boys weren’t much for a strict dress code. Or even a casual one.

“No pants,” his dad said, looking up as Jeremy shuffled into the kitchen.

“No pants,” Jeremy repeated, nodding at his dad’s boxers.

Point proven.

“Y’know, I think we deserve a break,” his dad replied, licking his thumb clean. He turned to grab some plates and bowls from the one of the cabinets. Jeremy took this opportunity to slide into one of the chairs. Scratching the back of his neck, he looked over the arrangement in front of him. Several containers were open, filling the entire kitchen with the smell of fried rice and eggrolls. Jeremy’s stomach growled. God, he was starving. Lunch with Brooke seemed like forever ago.

“Feel okay enough to eat, Jer?” his dad asked, setting a plate in front of him. Jeremy took a bowl from his dad’s hands. “You were in there a while.” Jeremy nodded, busying himself with the container of egg drop soup. He winced as he poured too fast, splashing a bit on the table.

“Yeah. Just lost track of time.” He dropped a few wontons in, smushing them down with his spoon. They slowly bubbled back up. “Thinking ‘n stuff.” His dad was quiet as he finished setting the table. He eventually sat down, glancing over as he shoveled rice onto his plate.

“Still on board for tomorrow?” Jeremy looked up as he brought the spoon to his lips. He couldn’t read the expression on his father’s face. Tired, maybe.

“I, uh, already texted her. Let her know.” The spoon clinked against the edge of the bowl as he fished for another wonton. “If that’s still okay.” His dad wiped his mouth with his napkin, nodding.

“Yeah,” he replied, but it was unconvincing. His dad tried again. “Of course it is. It’s your decision. Always has been, Jer. I just… worry, is all.” Jeremy’s spoon stilled. “You had to grow up too fast. I just want you to know that it’s okay to take a break from playing grown-up sometimes. Especially when you learned to play from a very unfair game of House.”

Jeremy exhaled through his nose fast. His wontons were getting soggy. “Nice analogy, Dad.” The corner of his father’s lips twitched upward, but they fell short of his eyes.

“I’m serious, son.” Jeremy sighed, but the sound held no ill will. Abandoning his spoon in the bowl, he reached for the container of lo mein. Jeremy’s dad handed it to him, acknowledging Jeremy’s small nod of thanks with a nod of his own.

“I’m seventeen, Dad. I might as well be an adult.”

“But you’re not. Just… try to remember that, okay?”

“Okay. Okay, sure.” Jeremy offered a small smile before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. An awkward end of a conversation, but one his dad seemed to respect. The two of them went back to their food, the only sound coming from the soft clink of silverware and the ever persistent clock. The silence wasn’t unbearable, but Jeremy could feel it pressing into his back. His dad wanted to say something else, that was obvious, but Jeremy didn’t really want to talk about tomorrow. Was that already fucking up their plans to communicate better? What was a healthy balance of ‘moody teenager’ and ‘stable human being?’ Could the two even co-exist?

“So. Jeremy.” His dad swallowed, pointing his fork in Jeremy’s direction. Time to put that hypothesis to the test. “About earlier.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy fumbled with the eggroll in his hand. Mr. Fischer made the best kosher rolls in town. An unsettling amount of ladies at synagogue were waiting for him to keel over so they could snag the recipe for the annual food sale, but he was 83 years old and still kickin’.

“Did Mike ever mention being uncomfortable about something I said, or were you actually,” Jeremy’s dad gestured vaguely, careful with his words, “letting me know how you feel?”

“Yeah, I --” Jeremy snapped the egg roll in half “-- I like guys.” Practice makes perfect.

“Okay.” His dad nodded. They had both known for years. “Does it feel good? To say it out loud?” His third, unspoken question hung in the air between them.

To say it in this house?

Jeremy thought about the last time he had sat at this table. How he had been forced to pick himself up and shove the splintered parts back into his chest as if nothing had happened.

They had never fit quite right after that.

And it was different now, Jeremy knew it was, but that didn’t fix everything. No matter how much he reminded himself that it was his father sitting across from him this time, Jeremy had talked to his mother first. Nothing could change that. But maybe time could heal it.

“I think it will,” Jeremy finally said.

“Holy shit, are you seeing this?”

Jeremy watched, barely maintaining interest, as Rich continued zooming in on his boyfriend’s face. Jake kept batting the phone away, just a hint of red creeping up his neck as he told Rich to fuck off. The two burst into giggles just as the Snap transitioned to the next. Tapping the screen a few times, Jeremy confirmed his suspicions. Yup. All Jake’s pores. Typical Rich content. Admitting defeat, Jeremy closed Snapchat and flopped backwards onto his bed. The only other Story was Brooke’s from earlier that afternoon, and he didn’t really want to face his… face right now. Puppy filter or not. Brooke had looked nice, though. He’d have to ask her secret to good selfie angles sometime.

Jeremy glanced at the clock. It was a little past eight. A part of him wanted to try and fall asleep, see if his head would settle down enough to allow it, but sleeping away your last day on Earth was probably a pretty shitty way to go.

Preferable, but unmemorable.

Jeremy lifted his phone to his face and checked Twitter instead. Giving the app a moment to refresh, he lazily scrolled down his timeline. It was the usual mess of memes and Student Senate announcements. Cancelled track practice Monday. Tickets for the show were on sale next month. Jeremy made a mental note to remind his dad. Swiping up, his eye caught a familiar name.

Christine! @chris_canigula 2h
Here’s to another AMAZING night with @mellanin!!! =) https://t.co/oCTlAgrO7C

Jeremy breathed in. Right. He hadn’t fully registered Jake’s offhand comment from earlier, being too wrapped up in everything else going on, but it was coming back to him now. It was Christine and Michael’s day together. They had started hanging out every Saturday afternoon since… well, since Christine dragged Michael to that pottery thing she had really wanted to try. They had been pretty inseparable ever since. No one was really sure what they did every weekend. The two of them were purposely vague about the whole thing. But the squad knew Christine and Michael were CPR certified, could bake creme brulee, do basic yoga, and perform at least one hip hop routine now. And that was barely scratching the surface.

Jeremy hesitantly tapped on the Tweet, enlarging the photo attachment. Michael and Christine’s faces took over his screen, cheeks smushed together in order to fit in the limited camera range Christine’s outstretched arm allowed. Based on the lights behind them, they were sitting somewhere downtown. Christine was grinning wide, dimples at maximum cute. Michael was looking at the camera, tongue barely peeking out between his lips. He looked bored, but that was sorta Michael’s thing. The secret, Jeremy had learned long ago, was in his eyes. Michael’s eyes always gave him away.

And Michael was happy in this picture.

Jeremy could feel his chest tighten, something ugly squeezing his lungs, but he exhaled and let his heart fill up instead. Michael was doing good in this picture. Christine was doing him good. Taking another look at the picture, Jeremy felt a warm wave of affection for his friend wash over him. One of his best friends. He almost wished he could thank Christine for watching over Michael when he couldn’t. For making sure he was still smiling when Jeremy couldn’t. For when Jeremy was the reason he couldn’t.

He settled on liking the Tweet instead.

Jeremy scrolled down a bit. He was always up for talking to Christine, but he didn’t want to make things awkward. If she was still with Michael, she’d definitely try to FaceTime or something. Jeremy didn’t want to put Michael through that. He didn’t really want to go through that either. Maybe he’d just try to catch up with her later. Jeremy snapped out of his thoughts as he landed on another picture.

mlle madeline @_maddiebelle 4h
got this new shirt for super cheap xx https://t.co/XOa4c899MF

Jeremy wasn’t really friends with Madeline. As far as he could remember, they had only spoken twice: once in French class when she corrected his adjective misplacement, and the other two weeks ago when she gently confronted him about old rumors resurfacing. Ones regarding the two of them. It had been an… awkward conversation, and Jeremy wasn’t as good at apologizing then as he was now, but Madeline had been surprisingly cool about it. Apparently it wasn’t the worst thing that had been said about her at school. Or even in the top ten.

“At least you did it to make your life easier,” she had said. “Instead of just trying to make mine harder. That’s how I know you’re not like them.” And with that, Madeline had left Jeremy in the hallway alone, her lip gloss burning his cheek as he slowly realized that using someone and ruining them weren’t that much different in the end.

Jeremy liked the Tweet. It was the only thing he could think to do.

The picture was of Madeline in front of her mirror, her long hair in a messy bun and one hand on her hip. She was wearing a baggy crop top sweater, stark white. A stylized sketch of the Eiffel Tower was on the front, but Jeremy couldn’t quite make out the words underneath. His French was shitty, anyway. Catching himself staring, Jeremy quickly scrolled down just enough to hide the picture. Madeline was… very pretty, if the warm prickle on his skin was anything to go by. A lot of girls at school were.

Chlo @sanvalentino 4h
@_maddiebelle Huh. That’s weird. I’m definitely seeing two cheap things here.

But some of the prettiest ones could be ugly, too.

Jeremy sighed, ready to scroll past the whole thing, but then he saw the reply below Chloe’s.

brookee @lohst_puppy 4h
@_maddiebelle you look great, madeline! i love that color on you. :)

Huh. That was… odd. Then, a little further down, a new thread.

brookee @lohst_puppy 3h
@sanvalentino froyo? we should talk.

As weird as it was, Jeremy brushed the exchange off. If they had ended up going to Pinkberry, Brooke was probably home by now. Chloe roped off most nights nowadays to work on her National History Day project. Not even Brooke could cut into that time. Closing the app, Jeremy scrolled through his contacts list and tapped on Brooke’s name. He stared up at the ceiling as the phone rang in his ear. After three rings, the tone abruptly cut to voicemail.

“Heey, this is Brooke! Sorry I couldn--”

Jeremy hung up, a familiar feeling crawling on his skin. Of course. He was an idiot to think that a messy apology three months late would make things automatically better. She probably was just trying to spare his feelings earlier. Jeremy had already broken down once at Menlo Park; no need for a second time, right? But before the doubt could properly manifest, his phone vibrated.

From Brooke: 911?

Jeremy breathed out.

To Brooke: No, just wanted to see how you were doing.

From Brooke: <3

From Brooke: will txt back asap

Okay. Okay. So Brooke was out. So was Michael and Christine. Jeremy had other friends.

To Dickard: Sup, dude?

To jakey d: Hey, Jake.

His phone panicked as it received two texts simultaneously.

From Dickard: Busy

From jakey d: busy

Jeremy made a face.

To Dickard: Gross. Be safe.

Okay, maybe Jeremy didn’t have other friends. He turned his head to look at his laptop, still closed on his desk. Before he could even entertain the idea, Jeremy rolled his eyes and groaned. No way. Especially not after that snarky text to Rich and Jake when he knew they were probably just cuddling and watching Pride and Prejudice or some shit. That’d just be pathetic.

Sighing, Jeremy searched through his contacts. He could call up his grandmother. That’d be a riot. It had been a while since he fell asleep to the sound of her fretting over her son’s divorce while scolding her grandson each time he forgot to refer to her as Savta.

Jeremy looked at the name right below Grandma Rae’s. Huh. Why not?

To Jenna Rolan: Hey, Jenna!

From Jenna Rolan: is everyone else busy or something

Jeremy frowned.

To Jenna Rolan: What do you mean?

From Jenna Rolan: you never text first

Oh.

To Jenna Rolan: I thought it would be nice to talk. We don’t really.

From Jenna Rolan: and you’re just noticing that

Jeremy bit his lip. He was starting to get it now.

To Jenna Rolan: Better late than never?

From Jenna Rolan: i guess

To Jenna Rolan: Do you want me to leave you alone?

From Jenna Rolan: i’m kinda busy right now but it’s whatever

To Jenna Rolan: So that’s why you’re replying so fast.

From Jenna Rolan: STFU

To Jenna Rolan: Hey, I’m just teasing.

Jeremy paused.

To Jenna Rolan: I know how it feels, y’know.

From Jenna Rolan: how what feels

To Jenna Rolan: For people to ignore you.

From Jenna Rolan: IDK what you’re talking about jeremy

To Jenna Rolan: Last Monday. You were trying to tell us about that thing you watched. Documentary, maybe? It was about the Jersey Devil, I think. And Christine said something over you and everyone started laughing. You kept trying to tell your story, but no one was listening and eventually you just went back to your phone. You didn’t talk for the rest of lunch.

To Jenna Rolan: I noticed, but I didn’t say anything because I’m a jerk. We all are.

To Jenna Rolan: And I’m just now putting it together as to why you seem so distant lately. And probably why you're kind of mad at me right now for waiting until I had to talk to you to... actually talk to you. I’m a little slow when it comes to these things. I’ve been playing catch-up all weekend.

Jenna didn’t respond right away.

From Jenna Rolan: well it’s not like i expect you guys to listen anyway

To Jenna Rolan: We’re supposed to. We’re your friends.

From Jenna Rolan: are you though? it feels like i’m just in the squad because i got squipped too, not because anyone actually wants me around

To Jenna Rolan: Have I ever said I’m sorry for giving you a Squip? Because I’m really, truly sorry.

From Jenna Rolan: you were a computer zombie and you asked me if i wanted it. it was my choice

From Jenna Rolan: besides, i probs deserved it for that awful video i took of you losing it at the mall

To Jenna Rolan: Yeah, okay, I don’t think you deserved getting hijacked, but I won’t lie and say that video wasn’t pretty shitty.

To Jenna Rolan: But, hey. We’re all different people now. You took it down months ago. And I'm sorry for even putting you in a position to accept a Squip. For what it’s worth, we don’t just hang out with you because of that.

To Jenna Rolan: I mean, do you see Mr. Reyes hanging out with us?

From Jenna Rolan: ha ha

To Jenna Rolan: I’m serious, Jenny.

To Jenna Rolan: Can I call you Jenny?

To Jenna Rolan: Jenny. You don’t have to get sophomore girls to take pictures of Michael and me at lunch just so you have an excuse to talk to me. You don’t need an excuse. We’re friends. And I think all of us could be doing a hell of a lot more to make you feel included.

To Jenna Rolan: I’ll gladly listen to you talk about your interests because that’s what makes you happy. And, sure, we may not all become best friends. We might end up closer to one or two of us than the others. But when it comes down to it, we’re still friends and we all have each others’ backs. Or something like that.

Jeremy sat up, the gears in his head turning.

To Jenna Rolan: You know what? The person you should really talk to is Michael. He’s a sucker for weird shit. I bet he’s watched at least a few of the same specials as you. And he loves watching Ghost Adventures. I think the two of you would get along really well if you gave it a try.

From Jenna Rolan: michael? i think we’ve exchanged two words to each other the past decade

To Jenna Rolan: Just hit him up sometime. I promise.

From Jenna Rolan: are you seriously setting me up with your boyfriend jeremy

To Jenna Rolan: He's not my |

Jeremy backspaced.

To Jenna Rolan: I'm just saying you won't have to deal with any bad blood with him. He thinks you're cool.

From Jenna Rolan: ugh all of this is so hard. we all act like we like each other when we’re still dealing with fucked up shit. like i have three classes with rich, we're partners in one of them and i still can’t tell if he hates me or not

To Jenna Rolan: Well… have you apologized to him yet?

From Jenna Rolan: what do you mean

To Jenna Rolan: About the fire.

From Jenna Rolan: oh

From Jenna Rolan: do you think he even cares about it anymore

From Jenna Rolan: what i did

To Jenna Rolan: Even if he doesn’t, I think it would make you both feel better. Trust me.

From Jenna Rolan: what about chloe and brooke? they helped spread it too

To Jenna Rolan: I’m not talking to them right now. I’m talking to you. :P

From Jenna Rolan: what should i even say

To Jenna Rolan: It’s Rich. It doesn’t have to be anything formal. I think he’d appreciate a fist bump, really. It was hard for him to come back to school after he was released from the hospital.

From Jenna Rolan: i just don’t know if i can handle talking to him about it

To Jenna Rolan: It’ll probably be really hard. It has been for me. But it’s something you should do.

From Jenna Rolan: for you?

From Jenna Rolan: wait, did you talk to chloe

Jeremy swallowed.

To Jenna Rolan: No.

To Jenna Rolan: How do you even know about that? Everyone still thinks we just made out.

From Jenna Rolan: it doesn’t matter

From Jenna Rolan: do you want to talk about it now?

To Jenna Rolan: To you? You can’t be serious.

From Jenna Rolan: ouch

From Jenna Rolan: look i promise i won’t say anything. i’ve kinda learned the consequences of spreading serious shit like that. especially since i have to grovel at rich’s feet now

To Jenna Rolan: It's kind of something I would just like to forget.

From Jenna Rolan: but you can't, right

From Jenna Rolan: isn't that the problem?

From Jenna Rolan: it might feel better to get it off your chest. even just a little

Jeremy closed his eyes. He brought his phone to his chest, still for a moment, then decided.

Fuck it.

He dived into the water.

To Jenna Rolan: Okay, look.

To Jenna Rolan: When it comes down to it… what Chloe tried to do was fucked up. Really fucked up. But… she was so drunk, Jenna. So drunk. I can still taste the whiskey sometimes. And I was just a little buzzed. I couldn’t control my body. The Squip was making me touch her. If I had done anything to her? When she couldn’t consent?

To Jenna Rolan: I still have nightmares about it sometimes.

To Jenna Rolan: She should have stopped when I said no. I don’t think Chloe’s ever been told no before, so she probably thought I was being coy or some shit, but it’s not an excuse. And I know that anyone can end up hurting you, that it can be a friend or a family member, but… I truly think that if I got up to leave, Chloe wouldn’t have stopped me. I think she could be a good person. But the Squip took that choice away from me. They took a lot from me that night. And in a way, they took Chloe’s chance to prove me right too. So now I’m stuck with this uncertainty that I don’t think will ever be answered and that’s honestly worse.

From Jenna Rolan: jesus. i know words don’t mean shit but i’m really sorry jeremy

From Jenna Rolan: i know it’s weird hearing this from me of all people, but if you can, you should try talking to chloe about it

To Jenna Rolan: I don’t know. I don’t even think she remembers. She doesn’t act like it. I don’t know if she would even care about what I could’ve done. What she could’ve done.

From Jenna Rolan: chloe’s stopped drinking

To Jenna Rolan: Wait, what?

From Jenna Rolan: after i talk to rich, i’m through with the rumors and shit. it’s done nothing but hurt people and it sucks that i've kinda known this for a while but kept doing it just to make myself feel better. maybe i should just stick to nessie gossip with michael instead like you suggested

From Jenna Rolan: but i feel like you should know that about chloe, because i think deep down she wants to talk to you too. she’s a mythic bitch, but i’ve known her since first grade and i think she could be a good person again if she took the chances she's been given to be one

From Jenna Rolan: you're not obligated to be her friend or to forgive her. you're not even obligated to talk to her. but i think if you feel comfortable doing it, talking to each other would do you both good. god knows this squad needs to fucking talk to each other

Jeremy felt slick fingers curl around his ankles beneath the water. He slowly began to pull himself out, careful not to disturb the memory more than he needed to. Slow and steady.

To Jenna Rolan: You make a good point. I’ll think about it.

Safe on shore. Change the subject.

To Jenna Rolan: Now, tell me about that documentary. Even if it’s boring, I’ll nod along like I do with Michael.

To Jenna Rolan: Fuck. You can’t see me nod. Just imagine me nodding.

From Jenna Rolan: LOL okay

From Jenna Rolan: oh, but one more thing

To Jenna Rolan: What?

From Jenna Rolan: fuck jenny

From Jenna Rolan: people used to call me jen. or j-rol. when i had friends, anyway

To Jenna Rolan: Well, as your friend, Jen it is. I'll alternate weekly.

To Jenna Rolan: Now, educate me.

From Jenna Rolan: okay, okay so you won't believe this

Jeremy woke with a start, groaning into his pillow.

What the hell was that sound?

As he slowly re-entered consciousness, something in the back of Jeremy's mind finally identified the annoyance as his ringtone. Patting the bed blindly, he eventually found his phone tucked within the folds of the blanket. It was blaring now. Jeremy opened his eyes just long enough to accept the call, then let his head fall back onto his pillow. His voice was low.

“Nngh--hello?”

“Jeremy!” a voice sang back. Loud. So loud. “I texted you this morning when I got up and again when I got ready and then when I left for the bakery, but then you didn’t answer so I figured you were getting ready too, but I’m at the bakery now and I really need your help so I hope this isn’t a bad time?”

“Mnh."

“Okay, I don’t know if you remember but I remember last Sunday when we were going over one of the diner scenes and we got onto the topic of bagels for some reason? And you said that you had never been to this bakery? And then I was like, ‘what?’ because this place has the best bagels. I’ve never had a better bagel than maybe at that cafe in Hartford when I visited my grandparents for their 50th anniversary. They had awesome blueberry bagels, which is really saying something because the blueberry bagels here are awesome too. Anyway, I already checked and everything here is kosher which is just so lucky, right? I’m in line right now and there’s a lot of different choices, Jeremy. I don’t know which ones to get.”

“...Bagels?”

“Yeah, dork. Bagels. Which ones do you want?” There was a shuffling on the other end, like they had switched hands. “They got chocolate chip, poppy seed, cinnamon raisin, walnut raisin, plain…” The person on the other line huffed. “Geez, I wish I could just get all of them.” Jeremy, barely processing the conversation, latched onto the few words that he could understand and repeated them.

“Jus-get all of ‘em.”

A pause.

“Oh my God, we should totally just get all of them. That’ll be so fun! They have all these cute little cream cheese containers too, Jeremy, you should see them. Or, I guess, you’ll see them soon.” A laugh. “What are we gonna do with the leftovers, though? Oh, psch, I’m sure everyone would be happy to take them off our hands at school tomorrow. Rich would do anything for free breakfast. Okay! It’s settled. I know I'm running late already, but I’ll see you in, like, twenty minutes?”

“Mm.”

“Okay! Bye, Jeremy!”

With a click, the line went dead. Jeremy left his phone pressed against his cheek, thinking.

Bagels.

Diner scene.

Sunday.

Last Sunday?

What was last Sunday?

Jeremy thought harder. His head hurt.

Last Sunday. Last Sunday was --

Fuck.

Rehearsal with Christine.

“Shit.”

Jeremy vaulted himself off the bed, stumbling a bit as his legs got caught in the folds of his blanket. One hand on the back of his computer chair, Jeremy glanced at the clock on the bedside table as he kicked himself free. It was already half past nine; he was supposed to have woken up an hour ago. Running an unsteady hand through his hair, Jeremy ignored the frantic shuffling in his head and swung his closet door open. Pushing the hanging clothes back and forth, Jeremy fumbled for one of his old shirts. His fingers finally brushed against Kirby’s worn smile. A little small, but good enough to dance in. Herding the dirty clothes on the floor inside the closet with his foot, Jeremy struggled out of his sweater and changed shirts. He grabbed a pair of gym shorts hanging out of an open drawer and put them on, kicking the drawer shut behind him and throwing his jeans into the closet as well.

Scanning his room, Jeremy quickly stacked the beanbags up in their assigned corner next to the gaming setup and pulled his blanket off the bed, causing something to thud onto the carpet. Swooping down to retrieve his phone, Jeremy shoved the blanket into the closet in exchange for his old dinosaur one. Christine liked the texture of this one a lot more. Pausing to check his notifications and maybe actually breathe, Jeremy tucked the blanket under his arm.

From Jenna Rolan: and that’s why drop bears are actually bullshit

From Jenna Rolan: well, damn, nevermind. the drop bear went and got Jer-bear

To Jenna Rolan: Sorry, I totally fell asleep on you last night.

Gah, fuck.

To Jenna Rolan: Not that you were boring! I was just really tired.

To Jenna Rolan: Long day, y’know?

Nice save, Heere. Tucking his phone in his pocket, Jeremy dropped the blanket and pulled his pillow off the bed to make it. Michael’s shirt from the mall laid underneath, wrinkled from all of Jeremy’s tossing and turning. Swallowing a noise, he hastily opened his bottom desk drawer and shoved it in with the mix CDs and discarded letters. He’d… deal with it later. Yeah.

After his bed was made, Jeremy rummaged through the mess of anonymous notes floating around in his backpack and pulled out a dog-eared script. He tossed it on the desk along with the songbook and a pack of Post-it tabs. Reaching for a highlighter from the pencil cup, Jeremy glanced at the uncapped pen peeking out from under the theatrical mess. He frowned.

No time. Maybe later.

On his way out, Jeremy kicked the clothes in a little further and slammed the closet door shut. His room had definitely seen better days, but it’d have to do. Christine could be here any minute and Jeremy still needed to brush his teeth and, ugh, do something about his hair. Jamming his toothbrush in his mouth, Jeremy ignored the nerves bubbling in his stomach as he spit and rinsed. Lifting his head, he tried for a smile in the mirror, but the bags under his eyes weighed the gesture down. Jeremy exhaled slowly.

At least he showered last night.

By the time he was done in the bathroom, a loud knock came from downstairs. Jeremy took the stairs two at a time, stumbling onto the landing just as his pocket vibrated. Slowing his pace to the front door, he was surprised to see which name was lit up on the screen.

From Brooke: sorry, i’m free now! what’s up?

Right. He forgot he had bugged her last night.

To Brooke: No worries. How was your night?

Thank God for auto-correct. Pocketing the conversation for now, Jeremy took a shaky breath and opened the door. A blast of cold air hit his face as he squinted in the morning sunlight. And as much as he adored it, Christine’s bright grin didn’t help much, either.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Christine greeted, warm puffs of air wafting around her. “I brought breakfast, as promised.” She held up the bakery boxes. “There are bagels galore.”

“Co-cool,” Jeremy choked out, the word hanging in the air for an unreasonably long time before he realized he hadn’t even invited her in yet. Jeremy quickly stepped behind the door, neck prickling with warmth. If his head were a literal computer, he’d be smacking the side right about now. “Oh. Uh. Would the bagels-- I, I mean you and the bagels like to come in?”

Christine giggled. “The bagels and I would be happy to.” Faulty wiring aside, Jeremy managed to return her smile, albeit a little pained, as she stepped inside. As he closed the door behind her, Jeremy fell back a bit to check his phone. Sure enough, Brooke was waiting on him.

From Brooke: it was okay! i think??

From Brooke: i talked to chloe.

Jeremy already knew Brooke had made plans with her, but he felt it’d be a little weird to mention his mopey internet binge last night. Playing dumb wouldn’t hurt. Easier on the head, anyway.

To Brooke: You guys hung out? Sounds like fun.

“Is in here okay?” Christine called from the kitchen.

From Brooke: well… not exactly? it was more of a talk than a hang.

“Yeah,” Jeremy called back, a beat slower than intended. He watched Brooke’s ellipsis bubble pop in and out a few times before deciding he had left his other friend waiting long enough. He headed into the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of Christine’s breakfast haul.

“Holy bagels,” Jeremy breathed. She wasn’t kidding.

“This venture into bagels unknown will strengthen our bond,” Christine replied, tone deadly serious. Her coat and scarf were draped across the back of her chair, revealing this week’s rehearsal outfit. Leggings and bright gym shorts, topped off with a pair of cozy looking leg warmers. Her oversized t-shirt, tied off with a hair tie, read METUCHEN DRAMA CAMP in bold, faded letters. In true Christine fashion, she had come prepared to dance.

Next to her, Jeremy looked like he was about to be picked last for dodgeball.

“Come, come, sit,” Christine encouraged, motioning him further in. Jeremy obliged, slowly lowering himself into the chair across from her. He gripped the edge of the table as Christine swept her arms across the assortment of bagels and cream cheeses. “Choose wisely, you must, young padawan.” Something weak lit up in the fog of Jeremy’s brain.

“Star Wars?” Jeremy asked, almost unsure of pointing it out. Christine would never laugh, but his spine tensed up all the same. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”

“It’s a space opera, Jeremy. Of course I am,” Christine replied, matter of fact but not unkind. She got to work smearing a glob of strawberry cream cheese on her bagel. “Theatre is my passion, not my one-hit wonder. Want some?” She held the container out to Jeremy. “Wait, no. Actually.“ She pulled back. “You should try the blueberry. Unless you were going for the blueberry bagel.” Christine frowned. “That might be too much blueberry.” She pushed another container towards him. “Yeah, no. Plain would be better. Final answer.”

“I, I’m good for now, actually. Thanks, though.”

“Okay!” Christine shrugged, unfazed. Jeremy stayed still, searching for a sign that she was upset or put off by his declination, then silently exhaled. He loved Christine, but quiet was good. Better for the head right now. After a moment of hesitation, Jeremy slowly reached for his favorite option on the table-- cinnamon raisin. He glanced at Christine, but she said nothing of the choice as she finished prepping her breakfast. As Jeremy bit into his bagel, he pulled out his phone. He hoped Christine wouldn’t find it rude, even with her nose buried in her songbook, humming a few bars under her breath. He’d reach forward and wipe the bit of cream cheese off her chin if he wasn’t afraid of making a complete fool of himself.

From Brooke: so, you know how we talked about things yesterday?

From Brooke: it felt, like, really good! and it got me thinking that maybe i should talk things out with people too?? so i asked chloe to meet last night and i sorta pulled a jerry on her.

From Brooke: (which isn’t a bad thing!)

To Brooke: Haha, that’s a relief.

Jeremy could only think of one thing that Brooke would want to tell Chloe, but it’d probably be awkward asking his ex-girlfriend of all people. He tapped the back of his phone, mulling over whether to take the metaphorical bait. Jeremy had never been good with knowing when to prod, but Brooke fortunately took the decision out of his hands as her ellipsis bubble popped up.

From Brooke: so… i brought up how i’ve been feeling about our friendship. how things are different from when we were kids. we’re still best friends but… i don’t think friendship is supposed to hurt all the time, y’know?

From Brooke: and i was really scared. i couldn’t keep pretending that things would magically get better, but i didn’t want to lose her as a friend or make her mad either. but i was thinking about what you said. i deserve to have my feelings acknowledged and it isn’t selfish to ask for it, even if it’s hard sometimes.

From Brooke: and the thing is… chloe listened to me. i mean, at first she kinda tried to make excuses, but i put my foot down and i told her i needed to say what was on my mind. you should’ve seen the look on her face!!!

From Brooke: and when i was done, she actually agreed with me. things weren’t right between us at all. for the first time in, like, YEARS we actually talked. about school and life and everything. i almost wanna cry thinking about it, jeremy.

To Brooke: Wow, Brooke. I don’t know what to say. I’m happy you were able to have that.

“Mind if I get a drink?” Christine asked, standing up from her seat. Her tone was casual, but her eyes seemed to study Jeremy’s face, then his abandoned plate.

“Go for it,” Jeremy said, making a show of taking a second bite of the bagel. Seemingly satisfied with the gesture, Christine smiled softly and made her way to the fridge.

From Brooke: i’ve gotten a lot of apologies from chloe, but that was the first where i felt like she really meant it. that things might actually get better between us. and when i said that her response to this one tweet madeline made last night had been the final straw for me, do you know what she did???

Jeremy vaguely registered the sound of Christine settling back in her chair.

From Brooke: she actually CALLED her.

A glass of orange juice found its way on his side of the table. The corners of Jeremy’s mouth twitched upwards as he offered a small nod of thanks in return. Christine waved him off, but he could still feel her eyes on him as he bit his lip and hesitantly turned back to his phone.

From Brooke: i honestly can’t believe madeline actually picked up. but she did and chloe said sorry for all the things she’s said about her. you could tell it was hard for her to admit she had been in the wrong, but she still did it. and madeline accepted the apology, but told chloe not to expect them to become friends or anything.

From Brooke: and i was worried that would really piss chloe off?? but the thing is she was okay with it. she didn’t apologize to madeline just so everything would be fine and they could be bffs or something, because people don’t have to welcome you back into their life just because you did the right thing. she just wanted to do the right thing, no matter the outcome for her. and none of it would’ve happened without you.

From Brooke: chloe and i owe people apologies... especially rich. but i want to say sorry to you first, jeremy. the truth is i’ve never really cared if my friends treated other people badly as long as they were nice to me. especially when it came to chloe. and when she wasn’t nice to me, it was the only time i ever really cared about her actions.

From Brooke: maybe i didn’t start things, but i always went along with it… or i did nothing at all. it can be scary to stand up to someone, but someone needs to do it. being a bystander helps the bully more than it’s ever helped the victim. i should know that. :(

Jeremy felt his chest tighten.

To Brooke: You don’t have to apologize to me, Brooke. I mean, I’ve hurt you way worse. Nothing you’ve ever done or let happen could compare to that.

Jake would be disappointed, but Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to let Brooke take any blame. It just didn’t seem right. Not after what he did. Not after Halloween.

Brooke stopped and started typing several times. In the end, her reply was short.

From Brooke: chloe told me what actually happened, jeremy.

Cold water crashed in around him.

“--remy?”

Jeremy jumped, tearing his eyes away from his phone. Christine’s lips were moving, but he heard nothing over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest.

She looked worried.

“I-I’m sorry, did, did you say something?”

“I asked whether you wanted to start with the first or second Act,” Christine repeated, not a trace of annoyance in her tone. “You have “Greased Lightnin’” in Act I, but I know you were worried about the choreo in “Born to Hand Jive.” I figure we could start right after Brooke finishes singing “It’s Raining on Prom Night” and go straight through until Jake wins the drive-in tickets.” Her eyes flitted between her songbook and Jeremy. “It can be a tricky scene, but we can go over it a few times until you get the hang of it. Rizzo and Kenickie are dance partners anyway, so it’s good for us to practice together.”

“Sounds good,” is what clawed itself out of Jeremy’s throat. His grip tightened around his phone as it continued to vibrate. One, two, then three messages.

His head hurt.

“Jeremy.” Christine’s voice was soft as she set her songbook down. “Are you okay?”

“Yea-yeah. I’m, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t been talking much,” she fretted, lightly drumming her fingers on the table. “I thought maybe it was just a slow morning, but… you look pale. Like you’ve seen a ghost.” Christine glanced at his phone, nursing her bottom lip. “Are things alright?”

“S-sorry. It’s just I, I woke up late and.” Jeremy gripped the back of his neck, avoiding the pointed question directed at his phone. Not now. “I need. Time? Time in, in the morning to just kind of… lay there? I guess?” He shook his head, rattling his thoughts along with it. “I dunno, it’s stupid--”

“No, it isn’t,” Christine said, leaning forward and gently touching Jeremy’s hand. “Let’s go upstairs.” Jeremy frowned.

“But, breakfast--”

“It can wait. C’mon.” With that, Christine stood up and gracefully brushed off her lap. Extending her hand, she looked at Jeremy and wiggled painted nails expectantly. Jeremy hesitated, then took it. Christine’s grip was warm and solid as she gently led him through the hall and up the stairs. Beneath all the garbled static in his head, Jeremy hoped she wasn’t put off by the clamminess of his own.

When they reached his bedroom door, Christine stepped aside, silently encouraging Jeremy with a squeeze of his hand. Exhaling, he slowly pushed the door open and walked in. As Jeremy struggled to find the words to apologize for the mess, Christine ignored everything else and made a beeline for the bed. As she laid down, her legs still hung off the edge, the toes of her sneakers barely off the carpet. Christine patted the spot next to her.

“Sit.”

Jeremy once again obliged, wiping his palms on the front of his shorts as he made his way to join her. The mattress creaked under his weight, making Jeremy wince, but eventually he was settled down next to Christine. Nursing his bottom lip, he gathered the courage to turn his head. Christine’s eyes were closed, her hands resting on her chest as she slowly breathed in and out.

He had never seen her so… still.

Presumably sensing him watching her, she turned her head a little and opened one eye. “What are you waiting for, dorkus?”

“I.” Jeremy’s mouth opened, then closed. Christine smiled fondly.

“Breathe,” she gently prompted, resuming her previous position. “Just breathe.”

Right.

Just breathe.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Exhaling slowly, Jeremy focused on the sound of his breathing until the churning waters stilled. Not gone, but manageable. With the immediate pressure gone, Jeremy slowly opened his eyes. He glanced at Christine. Still breathing. Jeremy stared up at the ceiling as he waited for her to finish, studying the little bits of residue left over from glow-in-the-dark stars long since gone.

“--He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes his mother would say, "this kid is driving me CRAZY!"”

Jeremy giggled at the faux angry tone whispered in his ear, snuggling closer. Stars glowed up ahead, basking the two of them in a soft, green light. The page was turned.

“But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet-- not much younger than you-- she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.”

Jeremy dug his palm into his eye, struggling to hold back a yawn. The arm wrapped around him gently rocked him back and forth.

“While she rocked him she sang: “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby--””

Downstairs, the sound of a door made Jeremy’s eyes snap wide open. He tensed up as the stairs creaked. Coming closer.

“What’s wrong?” A pause, then a soft laugh. “Oh.” The arm around him tightened a little, rubbing Jeremy’s arm. “No need to be afraid. You know who it is.” Nevertheless, Jeremy watched with wide, unblinking eyes as the thin crack of light eventually widened and a figure appeared. Upon recognition of the face, however, he immediately relaxed.

“Hey.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry. Am I interrupting?” Jeremy’s dad asked softly, shrinking bashfully in the doorway.

“We were just about to stop,” Jeremy’s mom assured him, setting the unfinished book on the bedside table. She brushed a few curls off of Jeremy’s forehead, smiling down at him fondly. “Someone’s getting sleepy, huh?” Jeremy nodded begrudgingly, scooting further down until his chin was resting on the blanket. He hugged his stuffed puppy closer. Jeremy’s dad came and sat next to him, setting his briefcase down at his feet. He ruffled Jeremy’s hair affectionately.

“Yeah?”

“Sweet dreams, little guy,” his dad whispered, leaning down to kiss Jeremy’s forehead. He squeezed his mom’s shoulder once, then quietly made his way back out with his work. Jeremy’s mom adjusted the blankets around him, then licked her thumb and smoothed down a stubborn cowlick. Leaning over, she pulled Jeremy into a tight hug.

“Goodnight,” she murmured into his hair.

“Watcha thinkin’ about?”

“I love you.”

“Bad memory,” Jeremy mumbled.

“Ah.” Christine rolled over onto her stomach, facing Jeremy. Her head rested on her arms. “Wanna think about something else?” Jeremy took the bait, sitting up.

“Like what?”

“A good memory. Something that makes you happy.” Christine lit up. “Oh, like when I was seven and I got cast in my very first role as Lucy Pevensie in the community theatre’s production of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe? Or, ooo, when my parents took me to New York City for my birthday and I saw--” Christine cut herself off, eyes wide. “But this is about you,” she reminded herself sheepishly, “not me.”

“Uh, well…” Jeremy looked around the room, stalling for time. His eyes eventually landed on a framed photo. “I could... tell you about when I met Michael?” Christine gasped, legs kicking once or twice in the air excitedly.

“I love backstories.”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s particularly interesting.” Jeremy made a face. “I’m actually pretty stupid throughout most of it.”

“Sh. No spoilers.” Christine rested her chin in her hands, beaming with excitement. “Now, spill.” Jeremy blew out a steady stream of air, thinking hard. It was coming back to him. Yeah. Okay.

“So, uh. It’s September and I’m in kindergarten, right? And my birthday’s coming up, and for like the entire week leading up to it I was freaking out because of the whole treat thing.”

“Treat thing?”

“Y’know how in school we used to bring in cupcakes and shit on our birthday?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Yeah, so I’m freaking out because there’s already been, like, two birthdays before me, so I know the drill. I absolutely have to bring something. And by the time I’m in school, my dad started working more, so it was my mom pretty much taking care of me. I reminded her every day after school, but I guess it just slipped her mind or something.”

“Jeremiah, please. Stop your crying.”

Jeremy sniffled, wiping his eye with the palm of his hand. His mom continued to hold his lunchbox out, sighing impatiently.

“Jeremiah.” Her voice was icy. “Take. It.”

Staring down at the pavement, Jeremy reached for the metal lunchbox, his little fingers barely wrapped around the handle before his mother let go. He swallowed hard as he felt another wave of hot tears prick up. She started the engine with a flick of her wrist, still wearing a deep scowl.

Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time he saw her without it.

“I’ll be here at 3:30 to pick you up.” She glanced at him, closing her eyes and exhaling when she caught his expression. “Those kids? They won’t care. You’re grown up now; crying is for children.” With that, she leaned over and slammed the passenger door shut. “3:30. Be outside.”

“Bye, Mommy,” Jeremy mumbled, but she had already driven off.

“Must’ve been a lot on her plate, huh?” Christine frowned sympathetically. “I feel bad for baby Jeremy, though.”

“Don’t worry, this story has a happy ending,” Jeremy assured her. Nursing his bottom lip, he continued to pick his way through the shore of his mind, tossing back the broken bits that washed up with the rest. Only the shiny ones would do. “So, there I was, walking to my homeroom and shaking like a leaf. My mom always dropped me off for school early, so I figured I would talk to my teacher and explain to her my treat-less situation. I didn’t want to go to jail.”

“Wait. Hold up.” Christine looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Jail?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling a little too. “For some reason, I thought that if I didn’t bring anything for the class the police would come and--”

“--bring you to jail?” Christine swatted Jeremy’s arm, laughing. “Why would they arrest you?”

“I don’t know! I was five!”

“Six. You turned six, Jeremy.”

“Ugh, whatever!” Jeremy flopped onto his back, arms in the air. “Anyway. Miss Baker, my kindergarten teacher, usually didn’t arrive for a little bit longer, so I decided to sit on one of the benches in the hall outside her classroom. I was so wrapped up in figuring out a good alibi for the police that I didn’t even notice another kid sit down on the bench next to me.”

Jeremy studied the checkered tiles as he absentmindedly rubbed his cheek. He could still feel the tears. His lunchbox sat in his lap as he continued to idly swing his legs. The clock ticked.

“Hi!”

Jeremy looked up. He turned his head to see another kid sitting on the bench next to him, accompanied by two giant bakery boxes. Under the mess of dark, curly hair was a pair of silly looking goggles and a gap-toothed grin. The grin grew wider as Jeremy met his eye.

Jeremy had never seen a smile like it.

Christine gasped. “Was it Michael?”

“No spoilers.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“It’s my birthday today!”

Jeremy’s eyes widened at the loud declaration. He squirmed in his chair, embarrassed. “Oh. I thought it was my birthday.”

The other boy gasped. “We have the same birthday?” He brought his hand to his mouth, thinking out loud. “Maybe we’re brothers. I always wanted a brother.” The boy looked at Jeremy, chubby fingers curled into determined fists. “Naiintindihan mo ‘ko?”

Jeremy tilted his head. “What?”

The other boy’s face scrunched up, thinking. The word came to him. “¿Ahora?”

“Ah… um?”

“Where’s your treats?”

Jeremy blinked, momentarily stunned at the sudden change of topic.

“So,” Jeremy continued, “we get to talking and turns out me and this “mystery boy” have the same birthday; a concept I wasn’t familiar with whatsoever. And since it’s my birthday too and this kid is a nosy little shit, he asks me where my treats are.”

“And you told him?”

“I told him.”

“Um. I don’t have any.” He looked down at his lap. Jeremy could feel the tears coming back, but he blinked them back. He was a big boy now. Jeremy only looked up when he heard the sound of shoes landing on tile.

“And what did Mich-- the boy say?”

“It’s not what he said, Christine. It’s what he did.”

The other boy was out of his seat, leaning back dangerously as he dragged the top box off the bench and held it in his hands. The box was a bit too wide for his little arms, but he managed to toddle it over to Jeremy’s side. He placed it next to him, exhaling dramatically.

“Here!”

Jeremy stared.

“Nay said I would have, um…” The boy looked at his hands, his right fingers gently touching the tips of his left. After a moment, he gave up and grinned. “A lot! She said I’d have a lot left! So here.” He leaned into Jeremy’s ear, trying to whisper but failing miserably. “Say they’re yours!” He tugged the bakery lid up. Inside were blue cupcakes, covered in sprinkles. “Red’s my fav’rite anyway. I’ve never really liked blue.”

He looked into Jeremy’s eyes.

“But, I dunno. I might now.”

“Oh my God, you can’t just leave it at that! What did he do?”

“He gave me half of his cupcakes to give to my own class.” Jeremy chuckled at Christine’s expression. “I know, right? And before I could even thank him, Miss Baker shows up and sees me waiting, tells me to come inside with my birthday treats, and that’s the last I ever saw of that boy.”

“Jeremy!”

“Yeah, no, I’m kidding. He found me again after lunch.”

During recess, Jeremy settled in his spot underneath the slide. He tucked his legs into his chest, pushing a pebble back and forth with his finger. Laughter rang above his head.

“It’s you!”

Jeremy looked up for the second time that day to see the other boy peeking under the playground equipment. He had grass stains on his pants and a couple new bandaids on his arms. Rowdy type, indeed. A Gameboy Color dangled from his free hand.

“Hi,” Jeremy squeaked out. It was the only thing he could think to say.

“Can I sit with you? I can’t play in the sun.”

“Um. Sure.”

“So, you guys became best friends right then and there, right?”

“Actually, kinda, yeah.”

The boy -- Michael -- grabbed Jeremy’s hand, tugging him forward. It was sweaty and warm, just like his. Michael marched over to a car, letting go of Jeremy in favor of smushing his face against the window. Jeremy nervously looked at his plastic watch as Michael gently smacked the window with an open palm. The digital face read 3:31 P.M.

“Nay, Nay,” Michael yelled. “I want you to meet my best friend.”

“That was such a sweet story, Jeremy,” Christine gushed. Her hands were on her cheeks. “You met your best friend and you didn’t have to go to jail.” Jeremy chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t. And it was nice finally having someone to play with, even if Michael… tended to get in trouble a lot as a kid.”

Christine ooo’d playfully. “Do tell.”

“Aw,” Jeremy shrugged bashfully, “nothing serious. He’d stay up past bedtime, get into things he wasn’t supposed to, that sorta thing.” Jeremy made a face. “Lots of messes. I was… surprised to see how his parents always handled it, to be honest.”

Jeremy laid on his stomach, slowly pushing a glass marble across the shaggy carpet with one finger. He watched with an almost intensity as the sunlight hit the tiny ball, reflecting a dozen colors on its surface. Jeremy repeated this process with every marble in his little collection. Michael didn’t really get his fascination, but that was probably because he always got too bored after a few seconds.

“Blue, please.”

Speaking of Michael.

Jeremy glanced up, following Michael’s pointer finger to the stray crayon that had rolled next to Jeremy’s elbow. He picked it up and rolled it back over to Michael. Michael picked it up, his frown deepening the longer he studied it.

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy looked back up. “Yeah?” He waited patiently as Michael held the crayon up, his eyes flitting between it and Jeremy’s face. Michael eventually sighed, dropping the rejected crayon on the carpet.

“Wrong color.”

Jeremy opened his mouth to comfort him, but Michael’s face suddenly lit up.

That was never a good thing.

Christine giggled. “What, are Michael’s parents total hippies or something?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Explains a few things.”

“I guess,” Jeremy said slowly, “I’m just used to my parents being a bit… stricter.”

“Jeremy. Jeremy, please stop crying,” Michael begged. He kept patting Jeremy’s shoulders and chest in an attempt to comfort him, which only got more little blue handprints on his overalls.

“You’re-- gonna-- get in-- trouble,” Jeremy wailed in between gasps, fists rubbing his eyes. His entire body shuddered with another sob. The paint was everywhere and Michael was gonna get in trouble and Jeremy didn’t want to see his best friend get in trouble.

Being in trouble was always a bad, scary thing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Michael shushed, grabbing Jeremy’s cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay.” Jeremy opened his mouth to protest, but the bedroom door opened and the two of them were face to face with Tita. She must’ve heard the commotion from downstairs. Jeremy could only tremble with fear as her eyes took in the sight of the ruined rug and two very, very blue children.

“Michael,” Tita said slowly. “What happened?”

Jeremy wanted to say it was him that did it. He didn’t want to watch Michael get in trouble.

He didn’t want to see Tita do that to Michael.

“I, um,” Michael mumbled, rubbing his arm. He stared at the ground. “I got into the paint.”

“And what’s the rule about your paints?” Tita crouched down, searching for her son’s eye.

“I gotta wear old clothes.” Michael’s voice was barely audible.

‘And?”

“‘Dult supervision.”

“That’s right,” Tita confirmed. Her tone was gentle, but firm. “You broke the rules and you made a very big mess. Now, what’s the first thing we do when we make a mistake?”

Michael turned to Jeremy, biting his lip as he rocked on his heels. “Sorry, Jeremy.” He looked at his mom, who urged him to continue with a small nod. “For, um. Messin' up your clothes.” Michael then turned back to his mom, shuffling closer. “Sorry for not list’ning, Nay.”

“Thank you for the apology. Now, what’s the second thing we do?”

“Fix it.”

“Right. Now,” Tita said, picking up her son, blue paint and all. “We should get the two of you cleaned up.” She then reached for Jeremy, who was frozen in shock. Tears stained his face, but no more were coming down. “After that, we can work on your room.” As she held out her open arm, Jeremy simply walked into her, wrapping his arms around her neck. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in Tita’s hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

Jeremy sniffled. He felt like crying for an entirely different reason now.

“Ah, no need for tears,” Tita murmured. She adjusted her grip on Jeremy, holding him a little tighter as she stood up. “I love you, even when you’re blue. Mahal kita. Remember that one?”

“Mhm. Mahal… din…” Jeremy mumbled, messing up a little from the exhaustion. Chuckling softly, Tita carried the two of them out of the bedroom. Jeremy continued to hold on tight.

He never wanted to let go.

“Well, it’s a good thing you found one another then,” Christine mused. She kicked her legs idly, smiling up at Jeremy. “You balance each other out. If anyone’s perfected the art of friendship, it’s definitely you two.” Jeremy said nothing at first. He wanted to accept the compliment, but he couldn’t help but think about the past few days. About the current state of his and Michael’s friendship. It wasn’t a lost cause by any means, but the fact remained that Jeremy had thought things were perfect and they turned out to be anything but. He didn’t want to keep making that mistake. He didn’t want to keep accidentally hurting anyone else.

“Are we okay?”

“Hm?” Christine blinked, her smile falling into a curious little line.

“Are we, like, are we good? Wait. That’s basically the same word, um--” Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying again. “What I’m trying to ask is if you’re happy. With, with our friendship.”

Christine pulled herself into a sitting position, seemingly aware of the change of atmosphere in the room. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, of course. Is there a reason why you’re asking?” Jeremy chewed on the inside of his cheek. It’d probably sound stupid out loud, but there was no turning back now.

“It’s just. The past few days, uh, I’ve come to realize that maybe things aren’t as great as I thought. In, in our friend group, I mean. And not that I don’t like everyone, because I do. Even if--” Jeremy cut himself off. He breathed in, out, and tried again. “Even if we weren’t good to each other in the past. And that’s kind of the problem, I think. We worked through the surface level stuff, sure, but the Squip wasn’t the first or the last thing to fuck things up between all of us. Things were shitty before I took that awful pill.” Jeremy gave a breathy laugh, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I mean, that’s the reason I took it in the first place. But if we don’t talk about anything of this, everyone will just keep pretending and we’ll never be cool with each other. And that includes me, too. So... I guess I just wanted to make sure that that wasn’t the case for us. That we aren’t pretending. And if it is… I want to fix it. Before it continues.”

Christine tilted her head, presumably taking the time to process all of Jeremy’s word vomit. Eventually, her eyes lit up with understanding and she smiled.

“Oh, Jeremy.” Christine placed her hand on top of his. “We’re good. Promise. We talked when we needed to and I feel great about our friendship.” She paused. “But what you said? About our friends and everything? I agree with you. I mean, I’ve always thought things were a little weird and sudden, but I didn’t want to question it or lose out on making real friends for once because it was just me who felt that way.” Christine pulled a knee to her chest. “It’s funny you mention it, the whole talking thing, because the most random thing happened to me last night.” She glanced at Jeremy. “Jake called me.”

“Jake?” Jeremy couldn’t really see the significance. “Did he call to make plans or something?”

“No, actually. That’s what was so weird about it. He called me to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Jeremy was starting to sound like a broken record at this point.

“About his Halloween party.” Christine pursed her lips, avoiding Jeremy’s gaze as if she was embarrassed to even bring it up. “How he, like, ditched me and everything. We never talked about it or anything, even after we became friends, and it’s funny because I never thought it bothered me? Like, that night, yeah, sure. But it’s not like we were officially dating or something.” Her expression softened. “But when Jake apologized, I realized just how much I had wanted to hear it. I suddenly felt lighter, like clouds I didn’t know existed had finally cleared and I was on my way to the happy reprise of my super sad mid-show ballad. Or, y'know, something like that.”

“That, that’s great, Christine,” Jeremy blurted, offering a genuine smile. “You and Jake talking, that’s good, that’s progress. You deserved an apology. I’m glad you got one.”

“Thanks, Jeremy,” Christine said, returning the smile. “It got me thinking, too,” she continued, idly tracing a pattern on her leggings. “About finally taking the initiative and apologizing for things I’ve never owned up to. Be the change you want to see and all that jazz.”

“What?” Jeremy almost wanted to laugh. “Christine. You’re, like, the best one out of all of us. If there’s a perfectly good person out there, it’s you.” Jeremy didn’t need a blinding crush to see the good in Christine, but he didn’t expect to see her smile slowly fall into a thin, grim line.

“I’m not perfect, Jeremy.” Christine’s voice was quiet, but firm. She ran her finger along the lace of her leggings. “I get mad, I get frustrated. I can be selfish. I think mean thoughts, just like everyone else at some point or another. Being a good person… it’s a choice. And sometimes I mess up! I say or do the wrong thing. It doesn’t make me irredeemable, it just… makes me human. Someone trying every day to put a little good in the world.” Christine looked up at Jeremy through her lashes. She looked a little sad. “And it’s much easier falling from the ground than a pedestal.”

“I. I’m sorry, Christine.” Jeremy scooted a little closer. “I get so wrapped up thinking about how hard it is for me to feel like a good person, I forget that it takes work for everyone else, too. Even someone I look up to, like you.”

Christine bit back a smile, a hint of red in her cheeks. “Thanks, Jeremy. It’s just something that really bothers me, I think. Sometimes I gotta bite the bullet and apologize to people who need one.” She poked Jeremy. “Like you.”

“Me?” Jeremy made a face. “While I am totally aware of your greyscale morality now, don’t get me wrong, I can’t think of anything you would possibly need to apologize for.” He frowned. “This isn’t about our relationship, is it? Because if it is, I’ll say it again, I--”

“It’s not. Don’t worry,” Christine cut in, gently touching his shoulder. “Do you remember that play rehearsal? The very first one last fall?” Jeremy grimaced.

“I remember being very sweaty.”

“Heh, you were pretty sweaty. But that’s not what I want to talk about. When you asked me about theatre, and I went off about it like I usually, I said something I shouldn’t have.” Christine hugged her knee. "Self-harm jokes are never funny, but I especially shouldn’t have made one to someone I barely knew. I’m sorry.” Jeremy’s skin prickled with heat as he took in Christine’s words. Their conversation was coming back to him now.

“It, it’s okay, Christine. You had no idea I-- you wouldn’t have known that it would bother me.”

Christine shook her head. “I should’ve known from the start that it wasn’t right. I may have a lot of thoughts and feelings and I have difficulty containing or filtering them because of my ADHD, but it’s not a proper excuse. If I’m insensitive, I need to own up to it. No matter what.”

“Well.” Jeremy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. You’re right, it is… nice to hear.” Christine nodded, her face a little solemn.

“I’m trying to make things right, even if it’s little. And to be honest… there’s something else I feel guilty about. Even now.” She rested her chin on her knee.

“Do, uh. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s, um... it’s Rich.” Her voice was quiet. “Have you ever thought about why all those pills were in his locker? The ones your Squip made you steal for the play?” She bit her lip, thinking. “I have. And the more I think about it, the more I think that Rich set that fire so that he wouldn’t--” Christine glanced at Jeremy.

So he wouldn’t...?

Oh.

“If. If Rich hadn’t, uh. If he hadn’t… made it out, it would’ve been the Squip’s fault. That’s not something to blame yourself for. You had no part of it.” Christine shook her head.

“It’s not that. It’s the fact that… if Rich hadn’t survived the fire… then the very last time I ever saw him, it would’ve been me laughing at him.”

Oh.

Right.

“We didn’t know what was going on. You didn’t know,” Jeremy offered, but his delivery was half-hearted at best. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that Christine was right.

A few seconds of bonding with the then-girl of his dreams wasn’t worth what he knew now.

“Rich was in trouble, and, and people were laughing at him.” Christine stared straight ahead, almost as if that night was replaying itself in front of her eyes. “He was in pain, and he thought that, that doing that was the only way to save the school. It may have sounded silly, asking for an old bottle of soda, but he was just looking for help in the only way he could. Just because it was different doesn’t give anyone an excuse to mock him.” Jeremy didn’t know what to say. His hand hovered over Christine’s back before gently resting on it. “So, um. I try my best to be kind to him. Whenever I get the chance. I know he doesn’t remember, but… it’s the least I can do. I’m just… really glad he’s still here, y'know?”

“Me too,” Jeremy agreed quietly. It was true.

“Sorry, by the way,” Christine cringed. “For kinda just… dumping all of that on you.”

“I don’t mind,” Jeremy said. Ignoring the worry gnawing at his stomach, he slid his hand over to Christine’s shoulder and pulled her into a loose side hug. “I’m cool with listening.”

“Well, I really appreciate it.” Christine absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “This might sound a little silly, but it’s not something I’m all that used to. People listening, I mean. Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m super honored that everyone trusts me with their problems and everything, but…” She pursed her lips, brows furrowing. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just around to give advice and solve other people’s problems. I don’t even think I’m that qualified, you know? I’m still figuring a lot of things out myself. Who I am, what I like. What I want to do after school. Life in general. And though I like helping out my friends, I don’t have all the answers. I never have.” Christine turned her head to look at Jeremy, smiling timidly. “And sometimes I have a few questions myself.”

“Aw, man,” Jeremy said, a wave of shame washing over him. “That’s totally understandable.” Now that he thought about it, Christine had a good point. While she was always included in conversations and plans, the ulterior motive did have a trend of people seeking her opinion. She and Rich got cozy for a few weeks as he struggled to ask Jake out. Without fail, Brooke’s taken Christine to lunch every single time her and Chloe have had an argument.

And it wasn’t like Jeremy was exactly innocent, either.

“It’s okay, Jeremy.” She must’ve noticed his expression, because she was gently bumping his shoulder with her own. “I know you guys don’t mean to. But it’s something I’m gonna try and address in the future. Talk it out and all that, as a very smart and strapping young man once told me.” Jeremy felt his face flush from her teasing tone, but he didn’t interrupt her. “Plus, I have my therapist to talk to. Don’t worry,” Christine continued quickly, “nothing bad. I’m doing great, promise. She just helps me declutter my brain a bit. Figure out what I wanna do when I graduate. Life goals, minor worries, stuff like that. I was actually pretty hesitant to go at first, because I’ve always thought you had to be, like, a certain level of feeling bad to justify talking to someone? Like, I was just being a baby for wanting to bother someone about college apps when there’s people out there who deserve that appointment slot more. But my therapist said it’s clients like me, ones whose problems are easier on the heart, that make it possible for her to then go and help those with heavier situations.” Christine laughed, the sound light and breathy. “But, I’ll admit that it’s nice to have a friend to talk to, too."

“Well, like I said before. If you ever wanna talk, I’m all ears,” Jeremy offered. In just one morning, he had already learned a lot about Christine. It made him wonder what else he had never noticed. “I’ve actually, uh, been figuring some things out too. About myself.” He scratched his head, a little embarrassed. “Talked dick sizes with Rich and Jake. Cried in a mall with Brooke, came out to my dad--” Jeremy stopped mid-sentence.

Well. That’s out there now.

“Yeah. Uh,” Jeremy did a little jazz hands gesture, “I’m bi, by the way.” He cringed, brows furrowed. “Nice delivery, Jeremy, I know. Wow. Nailed it.” If it was any sort of consolation prize, saying it out loud didn’t sting as much as the first time. Slowly but surely, it was getting easier.

“You’re bisexual?” Christine gaped, her focus only on the important part of that mediocre performance. “That, that’s great! I mean--” she paused, collecting herself. “I’m happy for you, Jeremy. Have, um. Have you told anyone else?” Christine asked, studying Jeremy’s face with a curious look in her eyes.

“Just my dad. And, and you, of course. Just now. Yeah.” Jeremy laughed nervously. “Sorry, not really used to this. Been a, uh, really heavy morning, huh?”

“I know just the thing to fix that,” Christine chimed, hopping off the bed with a sudden liveliness. As she made her way to the stereo system, Jeremy continued to think. He sorta appreciated how everything had almost been like water off Christine’s back. Jeremy was… a little exhausted from all the serious talk lately. It was nice to tell someone and it just be… easy for once. It reminded him of how their relationship had been at first.

Speaking of, actually.

“Hey. Christine?”

“Yeah?” She was crouched in front of the shelf next to the stereo, dragging her finger along the spines of stacked CDs. Must be searching for something in particular.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Just did, dorkus.” Her finger stopped. Christine gently pried the case out, popping out the CD. She turned to Jeremy. “What’s up?”

“This might be awkward, but, uh. If you. If you didn’t like me the way you thought you did, why… did you say you loved me?” Jeremy bit his lip. “During the play.”

“Oh.” Christine smiled a little nervously, looking down at the CD in her hands. Awkward question, indeed. “Um. So, you know how I said I had things I still needed to figure out about myself? Things I had to figure out on my own?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Well, before I got Squipped, I was really confused and all mixed up about a lot of things. But the more I got to know you, the more mixed up I felt about something in particular.” She looked up at him. “I’ve always really liked you, Jeremy. I thought that you were really sweet. And, and funny, and a good listener, and I could be myself around you.” Christine bit her lip. “And on Halloween, when I was upset as a friend that had been ditched, not a girlfriend, I thought it was just because I never liked Jake as much as he liked me. I liked the idea of attention from guys until I got the attention… and told myself I could like him like that. Maybe. One day. And when I felt relief when it was over, I told myself it was because it just wasn’t meant to be.” Christine smiled, the gesture a little bittersweet. “But then I got to know you, Jeremy. And I couldn’t understand why I didn’t like you the way I thought I should. So… when your Squip told you that all my doubts were gone… they were right. Under that spotlight, I wasn’t worried about why I never liked guys like that. I wasn’t worried about why I’ve never been interested in things I felt like all teenagers should be. And with that part of me gone…” Christine exhaled. “I could finally love you. But it wasn’t the true me. It wasn’t the right love that I feel for you.”

Jeremy walked to her, instinctively grabbing her shoulders. “I’m just happy that you’ve found yourself, okay?” He smiled as Christine nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes watering. “I don’t blame you for what you said. I don’t blame us for trying. We found where we belong. We’re good.”

“We’re good,” Christine repeated, wiping her face quickly before pulling Jeremy into a tight hug. Momentarily stunned, Jeremy awkwardly patted her back. When Christine pulled away, she suddenly seemed lighter.

“Now, c’mon. I picked a good one,” she said, turning back to the stereo and sliding the CD in. Christine turned the volume up, then extended her hand. “If I may have this dance?” Jeremy chuckled, hesitantly grabbing her hand.

“This isn’t the musical, though.”

“Eh,” Christine shrugged, lifting the arm holding Jeremy’s hand. Upon her insistent prompting, Jeremy awkwardly crouched and spun beneath it. “I think the Burger Palace Boys can wait.”

Jeremy laughed, the sound melting with the music.

Like the clouds were clearing away.

From Brooke: i understand why you went along with the lie, and it’s okay that you did. i don’t really know what the right thing to say is, but i want you to know that i love you, jeremy. you’re my friend. i’m really sorry you went through that. it must’ve been so scary.

From Brooke: and i know you know how i feel about chloe, and i don’t want you to apologize for making it “complicated” or something. i want to know the truth about my friends, and i want you to feel comfortable in this friend group!!!

From Brooke: the most important thing here is that you’re okay. it doesn’t matter that she’s my best friend. you’re the one in charge, jerry.

To Brooke: Sorry for the late response.

To Brooke: Thank you, Brooke. Seriously. I’m not sure yet, but I think I want to talk to Chloe about it soon. It was a complicated situation and at the very least I want her to know my side of things.

To Brooke: But… I think, maybe, things can work out. So, don’t feel bad about hanging out with her right now, okay? I want the two of you to work out your own stuff too.

From Brooke: sure thing. <3

To Brooke: And hey. Did you show her the dress, too?

From Brooke: i did!

From Brooke: she even wished me luck.

To Brooke: You'll do great. :)

“I’m looking for something that says, like, ‘I don’t care what you think of me’ but also ‘look how functional of a human being I am,’ y’know?”

“Mhm. How about this?” Christine pulled a grey vintage shirt out of the closet. Jeremy had tried to discourage her from looking through his clothes herself, but she wouldn’t have it. He didn’t think she even noticed the mini avalanche of bullshit on the closet floor.

“Are you sure?” Jeremy’s foot bounced on the carpet. “Star Wars doesn’t scream… classy.”

“Maybe not, but it does scream “Jeremy.” That’s what’s important here.” Christine threw the shirt over her shoulder and Jeremy fumbled to catch it. “We’ll pair it with… aha!” A flannel shirt came flying next. “That and a nice pair of jeans-- no holes --and I think you’re well on your way to making a good impression.” With a satisfied hmph, Christine shut the close door. Spinning on her heel, she put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Whatcha think?”

“I think it’ll work,” Jeremy answered truthfully. Some people might question his trust in Christine’s fashion choice, but Jeremy liked how she dressed. She dressed like herself, for herself. He could learn a thing or two about that. “It looks nice… but not overdone.”

“Exactly,” Christine said, sliding into the spot next to him. She drummed her fingers on her thighs excitedly. “You’ll do great.” Jeremy hadn’t told Christine what was happening. To be perfectly honest, he had been trying to keep his mind off of it. And while practicing for the musical had done a great job, Jeremy knew he couldn’t ignore the inevitable.

He’d be talking to his mother tonight. He needed to be ready.

When Jeremy had simply alluded to having plans that night, though, Christine jumped right on board. She helped him with his clothes, how to stand, and what to do with his hair for when the time would come. For not knowing what was actually going on, she did a pretty damn good job coaching him.

And not once did Jeremy’s spine itch.

“Whatever happens,” Christine continued, snapping Jeremy out of his thoughts, “just remember that tomorrow is a new day.” She rested her hand on his. The gesture was oddly heavy. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy nodded. He’d try to remember that.

Tomorrow would be a new day.

Tomorrow would come.

“Shit.” Christine checked her watch. “I gotta go. Babysitting.” The two of them quickly headed down the stairs, where Jeremy patiently waited as Christine gathered her things.

“Thanks again for coming over.” Jeremy watched as Christine wrapped her scarf around her. “For everything, really.”

“No prob, Bob,” Christine replied, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder. Her face lit up. “Wait. Before I forget.” She rummaged through the contents of her bag, eventually pulling out a plain black folder. Christine presented it to Jeremy with a flourish. “I know how you feel about pictures of yourself, and the photographer is particularly biased, so I thought I’d let you pick out your favorites before they were submitted.” She smiled. “Just bring them to school, ‘kay?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Jeremy said, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

“Alrighty. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Christine gently tapped his cheek with one finger. Jeremy smiled a little bit and nodded. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek goodbye.

Christine always asked. He liked that.

When she finally pulled out of the driveway, Jeremy stopped waving. Closing the door behind him, he looked down at the black folder in his hand. Jeremy then looked up at the empty house before him. The whole place seemed to be holding its breath. Jeremy pulled out his phone and checked the time. It was a little after two.

Four hours.

Two names to go.

Taking a deep breath, Jeremy stepped forward.

It was time to get to work.