Everything About You

Still Heere

A/N Please, this is my first time ever sharing my writing, or writing a fic... don't destroy me <3

And yes, it's technical difficulties... I realize Boyf Riends is correct, but there isn't enough of this for my decaying little heart. Heheh >:D

 (If anyone wants to suggest a better cover, I made that one in a hurry of sleep deprivation)

(No,  I won't be apologizing for any references or TERRIBLE puns)

SQUIP:

Squip had failed.

Watching the teenagers screaming and shrieking through eyes slitted in pain, he turned to his host one last time. Everything hurt, everything was frying, his skin sizzling and popping as red began pushing and burning its way through his once glowing blue veins.

"Jeremy?"

His host was screaming, hunched in a mocking display of the posture they had so wished to fix in him as he shrieked in agony. Squip just wanted one last look, one last glance at the boy who had become his sun, the one he had revolved around.

"J—Je—JeRemY?"

His body was beginning to glitch, large fragments of his form shattering as he felt each pixel pull apart from each other. He struggled to pull them together, to keep them together, even as white hot pain rushed through his body. He let his body dissolve into pain, let his legs and arms fracture and disperse into pixels even when each point of light screamed in pain as it moved. He was dying. Still, he held onto the burning pixels that made up his eyes, his face.

"J—Jer—eeH"

Everything was dark. A rushing, pulsing buzz roared far off.

Squip hadn't really felt pain until Christine drank that Mountain Dew Red.

He felt it now.

Everything throbbed in sharp aching pain as he cracked open his eyes.

He was... alive?

Attempting to stand was out of the question, but he could still prop himself up on an elbow. Looking around he found himself in the pitch black yet familiar void that was his office. This was the place he had run Jeremy's life...

Thoughts rushed through his still overloaded processor as he attempted to piece together his plan forward. He was obviously still inside Jeremy's brain, he was obviously still alive—somehow—even after his linked army of Squips crashed and burned under the Mountain Dew Red.

Calling up a screen—a mindless task before his fall from grace—had proven more difficult than expected, but after a few tries calling sparking pixels to his hand, he was eventually propped up before a small tablet-like screen.

"Call up neural memory" He felt the need to speak softly, though he knew that Jeremy was too obtuse to have noticed him in the background of his mind anyway. He had a strong feeling that if he were to be discovered Jeremy would not be all that willing to hear him out, and he doubted the survivability of a second round of MDR in his current state. Or any state for that matter. How had he survived?

However he questions should soon be answered as he watched the memories leading up to the Play play out, watching as Jeremy denied him—such a terrible choice on his part—and as Michael stumbled in, completely ruining his chances at achieving the target for his host. He watched as they fought through the students under his influence, the scene much more nightmarish from Jeremy's view.

Had he really seemed that evil?

Whatever, it didn't matter, what mattered was figuring out why he was alive, what Jeremy was currently doing, and how he was going to move forward from here. He felt inside of him that his host's goal had changed—technically it also had during the play, but the Squip had had the wholeness of mind to realize that 'defeating him' wasn't truly Jeremy's goal and fought through the coding that bound him to Jeremy's will. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore.

Jeremy's new goal was simple. Repair what he broke.

Hiking up the speed of the memories as they played to ten times the real speed, he leisurely processed his reveal of Better Christine, Jeremy's betrayal, and his subsequent defeat. He skipped over Jeremy's perspective of his painful and humiliating death. He didn't need to hear what his embittered host thought of seeing him in agony.

Nothing seemed out of order within Jeremy's memories. The only answer that seemed quite logical was that Christine's squip was one of the last ones to be installed, and as such, it was one of the furthest from his control. He could have pulled up the flowcharts of connectivity and signal strength, but he was somehow growing tired—a novel feeling for him—and felt the need to refresh himself with a long hard reboot. Perhaps it would invigorate him, he hadn't had much time for self care since he had been born into Jeremy's head.

As he painstakingly slowly brought up a system maintenance screen, he settled back into the cold, hard floor of the void with his answers pushed to the side of his mind.

It seemed as if he had been just far off enough in connection strength from the original ingestor to narrowly escape a full restart and erasure. He wondered if any of the other squips had survived, although a quick check of his connections swiftly provided an answer. He could track the links he had developed to the other Squips only halfway until they faded to a fizzling, sparking end, like a fried wire, frayed and live.

A problem for another time, he thought hazily, pixelated fingers ghosting over the keys as he typed in a quick command.

[Engaging system reboot]

It all began to fade.

[11%]

...he hoped none of his damage was permanent...

[37%]

...had he truly failed...?

[68%]

...No, this was just a...

[89%]

...setback...

[97%]

...right...?

[System reboot engaged]