GAME OVER: a Be More Chill fic

Level 13

Zap.

"Ow!" Jeremy shot straight up in bed, not realizing that it would hurt his head and his stomach so damn much. "Owww..."

"Rise and shine," the Squip sang, much too loudly. "You slept through your alarm, but I woke you easily with a quick spinal stimulation. A bit late, but it doesn't matter. Now, I need you to listen to me today and actually do as I say."

"Let me wake up before you start barking orders, I'm in pain here..." Jeremy griped. He held his head together, since it felt as though it would explode otherwise. "I think I need to stay home today."

"You can't. Your father will become too suspicious, I've calculated it. Drink that." The Squip pointed at the glass of water beside him, and Jeremy set aside his pride and obeyed, because his mouth was dry as sand and if he didn't drink it he was pretty sure he'd shrivel up and die.

Jeremy downed the entire glass before coming up for air and, to his surprise, immediately felt almost normal. "Whoa..." His stabbing headache was reduced to a dull ache, his mouth was no longer dry, his stomach was settled -- he was dumbfounded. "Did you do that?"

"I increased the absorption rate by two hundred percent. Nothing complicated," the Squip dismissed with a wave of the hand. "Get up, get dressed, wear sleeves. Eat something before you pass out again. And for the love of God, stay away from alcohol for a while."

"Sleeves?" Jeremy looked down at his arm and everything from the night before came crashing down. "God damn it. It's been three years. Three years." He impulsively took off the bandage and cringed at what was underneath. Defeated, he tossed the gauze aside and looked down at the floor, shaking his head. "What's wrong with me?"

"Look at me, Jeremy." Jeremy turned his gaze up. The Squip looked him in the eye and said exactly what he needed to hear: "It's not your fault." Jeremy softened immediately. "Okay? We're going to get you the help you need, as soon as possible, but right now you've just got to take it a day at a time. Can you do that for me?"

Jeremy gave a weak smile. "I think so."

"Good!" the Squip beamed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now get dressed, we've got a friendship to save."

They were out the door in ten minutes, walking the usual route to school and planning exactly what Jeremy would say to fix everything. The Squip was, once again, barking orders. Jeremy complied with each one; he knew it was his best chance to win back Michael and make everything up to him.

"Adjust your cardigan," the Squip instructed, marching beside him through the field. "Smooth your shirt. Fluff up your hair a bit. Do not walk through those doors until you are flawless -- a clean appearance will make you seem much more trustworthy."

Slow down, Jeremy thought at him, I'll do it when I get to school. He saw a patch of blue flowers that had survived autumn and debated taking them. They were Michael's favorite color -- he couldn't pass that up, he decided, and took them with the Squip's assent.

He stopped outside the school to fix himself up, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths as he prepared himself to apologize.

"No, not apologize," the Squip corrected seriously. "I mean, of course you are going to apologize, but if you think of it like that it won't seem as meaningful. You are preparing yourself to do much more than apologize. You are preparing to put right what you -- what we did wrong. You are preparing to ask for forgiveness."

What do I even say?

"I'll tell you when you need to know." The Squip hesitated for a moment, seeming almost embarrassed. "Unfortunately, Michael's reactions are too unpredictable at the moment, but once I can gauge his emotions I'll be able to handle the situation accordingly."

Wait, you don't know how it's going to go? Are you even sure this'll work?

"Jeremy?" said Michael, approaching him cautiously from the direction of the parking lot.

"Oh, hi, Michael!" Too cheerful? This is not the plan not the plan what do I do what do I do Squip HELP --

"Just be yourself. You're doing fine," the Squip reassured him.

Michael stopped in front of Jeremy, but made no move to give one of his usual bro-hugs, or rest his arm on Jeremy's head to annoy him, or even a fist bump.  This was wrong. Unfamiliar. He was still angry.

"Hey, thanks for last night, man," Jeremy tried. "I really owe you one."

"You remember that?" Michael returned, incredulous. "I was actually coming over to see if you were okay." He said it in a way that suggested that was the only thing he came over to do, just check in and nothing more. He brushed hair from his eyes, and Jeremy noticed a new patch high on the left arm of his signature red sweater.

Jeremy and Michael spoke at the same time.

"Who're the flowers for?"

"When did you get that patch?"

The Squip sorted out the situation. "You answer first."

"For... for you." He held them out, then laughed, "No homo. I just know you really like these ones, and... and I have a lot to make up for, so..."

Michael stared at the flowers, calculating, but otherwise unreadable, then looked back up. "Yeah, I guess you do."

He didn't take them.

Instead, he turned to leave. "Anyway, you seem fine, so -- "

Jeremy grabbed his arm. "Michael, wait -- "

"Damn it, Jeremy, why'd you have to be one of those assholes who doesn't get hangovers?" He whipped back around and jerked his arm free. "Just... just leave me alone."

"I can't!" cried Jeremy. A few people were beginning to point and stare. He lowered his voice. "I can't. I have to -- "

"Say sorry? I think we're past that. You should honestly just get over me because I am done."

Jeremy looked at him in shock. "You're... done?"

"Yeah, done!" Michael shouted. "I'm done crying over you, I'm done wishing we could -- I don't know, work out? We don't! We don't work out because you don't care enough. You're selfish, Jeremy. I'm fucking sick of it."

The Squip tried to help. "Apologize, now, it's your chance -- "

Too many voices. Shut up, I can't think.

"You wanna know when I got this patch?" Michael pointed to it, a rainbow pride flag. "After I broke up with Brooke. Last week. Which you would know if you bothered to talk to me, but you were too busy with whatever was more important than your best friend."

"Is it -- is that a pride flag?"

"No shit." Michael threw his arms up and shouted, "I'm gay!" Michael looked around at the lack of attention (the other students had already gotten bored of their argument), then back at Jeremy. "See? Nobody cares, except you. Which is why you were the one person I wanted to talk to about this, but you wouldn't even answer the fucking phone."

Jeremy quickly realized that the Squip must have intercepted their messages. He covered it up the best he could. "Michael, of course I care. I mean, I'm fine with it, obviously, I just couldn't really talk to you about it last week. I was -- I was going through some stuff."

"Yeah, yeah, but if you'd told me that, I would've listened, because that's what best friends do. They don't shut each other out. You shut me out, Jeremy, you didn't tell me what was going on, so I had to figure it out myself." Michael shrugged off his backpack and unzipped it, searching for something.

"What do you mean, figure it out?"

Michael just shook his head. The first bell rang as he pulled out a can of Mountain Dew Red and shoved it into Jeremy's hands. Without another word he grabbed his bag and left.

Jeremy looked down at the soda and immediately burst into tears.