Everything About You

C-C-C-Come on

Trigger warning: Depression, Possible Disassociation. (Sorry folks, and this is just based on personal experience) (If you really want a warning for it, lisps)

JEREMY:

Jeremy was staring at the ceiling. He couldn't seem to move his arms, his legs, everything was numb.

No, he hadn't been paralyzed.

No, his malignant Squip hadn't returned to over take his body.

He was just... tired.

His father said it was depression.

Michael said it was probably trauma.

Jeremy didn't care what it was, he just wanted a nap.

Even in his sleep he felt tired, it felt like he was constantly sick, always cold, sometimes he would begin shaking or twitching out of control.

He supposed that was the downside of experimental neurotechnology.

Whatever it was, Jeremy now found himself, three weeks after The Squipcident, with an actual friend group, a blend of squip-traumatised losers, misfits, and popular kids. Still, with Michael slowly leaning back to his side, with a group of real friends—not Squipped or Squip influenced—he still felt hollow.

Maybe he was going through a withdrawal period.

Either way, he needed to get up.

Tried.

Couldn't.

"Son?" A loud and encouraging voice called from downstairs. His father tried to coax him down, this time a touch more forcefully. "Jeremy?"

"Coming" He groaned, rolling onto his stomach so he could slide himself off the bed and onto his feet. Which clothes he put on were an afterthought, though he flinched when he nearly grabbed the Eminem shirt—he and Michael had plans to burn it this weekend, and at least one of them was overjoyed by the prospect of disrespecting that machine's legacy. One pair of jeans and a thick sweater later, he was ready for—well, at least legally and passably dressed for—the day.

He dragged himself through mechanically consuming a couple pieces of toast, threw his backpack on and scrolled through whatever his phone brought up, although if you had asked him, he wouldn't have been able to recall a single thing he watched. Michael's double honk of his dying car horn told Jeremy he was pulling in, and the boy, head in a fog, stumbled out the door.

"Hey Jere, how's it hangin' bro?" Michael had been especially delicate with his morose friend, and though it should have been Jeremy going the extra mile to patch things up, it was Michael who took the extra care with his words, checked in on him, and made sure he had been eating regularly in the week after it all went down.

Jeremy hopped in the car and tried to pick himself back up, smiling crookedly at his friend. "Pretty wack bro"

"Bro?"

"Bro"

They both cracked a grin at the idiotic exchange and Michael pulled out of his driveway.

"I heard Rich was going to be back at school this week" Michael tried for a relaxed, cheerful tone. Surprisingly, it was not Bob Marley but Queen blasting out of the replaced speakers within his friend's ancient PT cruiser.

"Jake is going to be thrilled, I hear he's spent every day since the accident driving to the hospital after school" Jeremy did not envy either of the boys, one losing their house to the Squip-based fire, the other having both started and been burned by said flames. He attempted a smile, ignoring the niggling thought in the back of his mind that said he should be afraid of meeting up with Rich. What if he was angry with him for what happened? What if he blamed him?

It didn't make any sense, Rich would know better than anyone what the Squips could do when they thought they were losing control, but Rich had had his Squip for two years without screwing it up, Jeremy lasted barely two months.

"Those two better get over themselves and just do i—"

"Aaaand that's where this conversation ends, do not need that to be my first thought when we all see him again"

The group of them, Jeremy, Michael, Jake, Rich, Brooke, Chloe, and even Christine had started a group chat and actually gotten quite close over their various healing periods out of school.

Michael laughed at his prudishness, wriggling his brows as he pulled into the student parking. Jeremy took a shuddering breath as his Player 1 got out of the car, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

He could do this... well, regardless of whether he could, he would do this.

They're staring at you.

Jeremy whipped around, looking for the source of the oh so familiar voice. He shuffled closer to Michael as they entered the school, shoulders tensed up to his ears.

That was one thing the Squip hadn't touched. Even after weeks of begrudging and slightly malevolent shock therapy, Jeremy still found comfort in making himself small.

"Hey Tall A—er—guy?" As he whirled around, a heavily bandaged Rich offered him a sheepish smile. "Old habits, eh?"

"Rich!" Michael bounded forward, wrapping the stockier student in a tentative embrace. Jeremy had been shocked at how quickly the two had bonded, considering Rich had done his best to make Michael's life miserable for the past two years. Apparently they had similar interests, although what those interests were hadn't been revealed to their mutual friend.

"Hey there (Th)Softie '' Rich grinned wickedly at Michael, shooting him finger-guns around his crutches. The nickname had come from their original source of connection... rare and evil-brainwash-machine-killing soft-drinks. Rich seemed to attempt to lower his voice to speak with Michael, though Jeremy could still very much hear. "What's up with Canigula eh? I heard she and Jere were off"

"Oh uh, yeah, they both kind of just decided they wanted different things, who would have thought a years long crush could be solved after three awkward dates and an honest conversation, eh Jere?" Michael attempted to pull him into the conversation light-heartedly, shooting him a grin that seemed to ask if such topics were alright.

For once Jeremy actually did feel alright about something. Christine and him had given it their best shot, but she would be transferring on an exchange program in second semester, and Jeremy had been in such a funk, he felt as though he hadn't really even enjoyed their time together.

All he really wanted to do was sleep.

But they were still friends, so Jeremy smiled and nodded, sharing the details of the whens and wheres as they walked leisurely to class.