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Michael Mell's POV

Alright, so I'll admit I was pissed off. Not at Jeremy, though. I was pissed with Christine. I gave her the one thing I never had; a chance with my best friend. Then she and her selfish self had to destroy the one thing that was keeping Jeremy together. I'll admit that when Jeremy was on a date with her, I got stoned in my basement. Not something to be proud of, I know. It's just like, I gave it my all; tried to be as supportive of their relationship as I could. Hell, I even helped set them up. Then that witch had to screw with Jeremy for 7 freaking months, only to leave him behind when he had just started to really want--no, need--her. Which is why I was pissed last night. 

So maybe that doesn't justify wanting to beat the crap out of her, but can you really blame me? Jealousy is an ass and I hate the fact that I'm jealous of her. I shouldn't be. She made him happy and I didn't. I couldn't really find a good reason to be angry. So that's why when she broke up with him, I was beyond pissed off. I finally had a good enough reason to send her to the nurse and not feel bad. Then, fate found an actual flipping reason for me to feel guilty about it. 'Cause my best friend was still madly in love with her. Even though she broke his heart three effing times, he still loved her. 

So now that  you're up-to-date with my emotions--which I didn't think you really needed to know about, but whatever--let me tell you about me and Jeremy's conversation this morning. 

_-_ Flashback brought to you by Jeremy wasting his money on a Wintergreen Tic Tac _-_

When I woke up, it took me a few minutes to actually figure out what the hell was going on. I felt a weight on my chest and my glasses were thrown somewhere on the bed. Feeling around, I finally found them and put them back on my face. No longer blind, I was suddenly aware of what--no, who--was laying on me. The one and only single man himself, Jeremy Shitting Heere. Yelping and shoving him off me, I blushed madly and ran into my closet. Need pants, need pants, I thought immediately, groping around for at least something to cover my boxers. Finally finding a pair of black skinny jeans, I slipped them on and managed to pull on a shirt before slipping out of the closet and sitting on the end of my bed. 

Jeremy looked so peaceful in his sleep, it felt wrong to wake him up. I knew I should--it was creepy to just watch a person sleep--but I couldn't bring myself to. Moving to the bathroom, I decided to make myself look decent so it wasn't that obvious that I had been high just a few hours ago. The minute I saw my reflection in the mirror, it was hard not to cringe. My eyes were bloodshot and watery. I had huge bags under my eyes. Overall? Unattractive. Good. Nothing much has changed. So I couldn't have done anything that stupid in my high state. Then I realized my shirt was backwards, so I quickly adjusted it and read what it said. 'Apocalypse of the Damned!' Well dang. Me being me decided that this shirt was fine; a reminder of good times. I then returned to my room to find a wide-awake Jeremy, staring at me. 

He quickly crossed his arms and huffed. "'You gonna apologize for that stunt you pulled last night?" I blinked, confused. "What did I do?" Jeremy looked highly offended and I wondered what I had said wrong. "What did you do? What did you DO?!" He repeated, his blue eyes were wide in disbelief and anger. "You tried to fricking hurt Christine! How in the effing HELL did you forget about that?" 

_-_ Flashback fin. _-_

I was trying to remember, but anything from last night was a blur. "How did I forget? Maybe because I was stoned?" I asked, trying not to feel hurt that he was yelling at me for something that I don't even remember doing. Jeremy scoffed. "So your excuse is being high? Mell, you were sober enough to register what I was saying to you. Stop pretending to be innocent. You want to get high? Take the consequences when you're sober. Call me when you're really ready to apologize. I'm done." Jumping off the bed, he made a beeline for the door. Running, I jumped in front of him. "Move out of my way!" He barked, his eyes flashing with anger and annoyance. 

Blinking back tears of confusion and sadness, I stood my ground. This felt too much like Jake's Halloween party all those months ago. "Or you'll what? Call me a loser? Push me? Do it. Prove to me that you still aren't influenced by you-know-who. If you want me to sober, tell you what I remember," Which is jack shit because as I said, everything was a blur, "you need to prove to me that you care. That you're not just some heartless jerk who used me. Prove to me that the SQUIP was not who you really were." Jeremy stood, shocked, before anger came back. 

"I thought we weren't gonna talk about that. You told me you wouldn't hold a grudge; you had forgiven me. If you want me to believe you, start acting like the friend you want me to be. 'Cause right now? You're just as much of an ass as I am." Before I knew it, I was on the ground. "I told you to get out of my way, loser. I won't repeat myself." I don't even think he realized what he was saying until it was out and a lone tear streaked my cheek. Guilt clouded his vision, but I didn't give him time to guilt trip me again. This time, my trust was gone. "Get out," my voice cracked. "Get out of my house, Heere. Don't--. . . don't come back," I whispered, standing and wiping away tears. 

Jeremy got the memo, not even bothering to try and apologize, and booked it. I don't think I've ever felt this alone before. I mean, there was the whole bathroom thing at Jake's party, but even then, I knew it wasn't Jeremy. That was a computer talking. Now? This was Jeremy, the boy I had crushed on for 12 effing years, telling me that I'm a loser and pushing me around. What happened to our two player game? Now it just feels like a one player game.