Jeremy rang the doorbell. Everything felt too familiar, and yet so foreign, like walking around town at midnight. It was surreal.

Since that morning, all he could think about was the Mountain Dew Red he had tucked away in his backpack. He'd gone home, taken it out, and stared at it for nearly half an hour, almost drinking it at least a dozen times. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it yet.

He was about to ring again, when he heard footsteps approach.

"Jeremy?" Michael opened the door, noticeably confused and a little out of breath from running upstairs. "You know you don't have to do that, you've been barging in like you own the place for years. Come in."

Jeremy followed him to the basement, shrugging off his winter coat. He told himself he shouldn't be so anxious -- it was just Michael. It was just the basement; this was normal, he did this all the time. But he couldn't ignore the dread pooling in his stomach. He remembered the Squip.

I have to do this alone, okay?

"I'll stay out of your way," the Squip replied, and vanished.

Michael turned, walking backwards for a moment, and flashed him a grin. "So, how does Apocalypse of the Damned II sound?"

Jeremy relaxed a bit, relieved. "Sounds perfect." Only Michael could put him at ease so effortlessly.

They made it past the first few levels this time without interruption, and with almost as much enthusiasm as old times. They both seemed to be holding back a bit though, walking on eggshells around each other.

Half an hour later, the Squip reappeared.

Dude, what the hell?

"Jeremy, listen to me," he urged. "Eventually during this conversation, Michael is going to ask you if I am here, or mention it in some way. It is imperative to your relationship that you do not tell the truth."

You want me to lie to him? Again?

Michael suddenly cleared his throat and paused the game, speaking at the screen and the floor rather than Jeremy. "Jer... we're pretending this isn't weird. Neither of us have closure on the whole thing, so... can we talk about it?" Michael finally looked up at Jeremy. His eyes were pleading. All he wanted was an explanation, and Jeremy couldn't deny him that.

Jeremy's face went red as he nodded, the way it did when he was nervous. "Do you wanna go first?"

"Oh. Uh... what do you want to know?" Michael tossed his game controller aside and stretched deeply with a tiny groan, his stomach peeking out from under his hoodie. Jeremy's face flushed a little bit darker.

He ignored it. "Uh... tell me about what happened with Brooke. I want to catch up."

"Well, there's not much to catch up on," he admitted. He popped his fingers one by one. "Pretty much what happened was, we went on two dates, and on the second one I kissed her. Not to be cliche or anything, but... it felt wrong. I can't really explain how. I've thought I was bi since forever ago, but kissing a girl just... wasn't right. So now I'm identifying as gay. I told Brooke, and she's a little sad that we broke up but she's doing okay. And, uh, that's that," Michael concluded. He looked at Jeremy with narrowed eyes, thoughtful, then spoke very deliberately. "Boys are really, really cute."

That was Jeremy's breaking point. He turned away, coughing, attempting to hide his blush. "Yes, they are," he laughed nervously. Stop looking at me like that, Mell, I'm trying to get over you.

"Jeremy."

"Yes? What?" he replied too quickly.

"Ah..." Michael rubbed the back of his neck a little nervously. "How -- how did the Squip come back?"

Jeremy was taken aback. Michael hadn't really figured out what had happened. And now Jeremy had to tell him that he had taken the Squip, and then Michael would ask why -- and he couldn't lie any more.

"Yes, you can," the Squip corrected. "I assure you that's the only way this will work out."

Go away. He did.

"I mean... 'cause Rich never said anything about his coming back, and he had it before you, right? After the play he never mentioned it. Wait, yours is gone, right?"

"Yeah." Flat-out-fucking-lie.

"Alright, good." Michael leaned forward, eager for answers. "So, Jeremy -- "

"Michael..." he cut him off. He breathed in, slowly and painfully. "The Squip didn't exactly come back, I... um... I -- "

"What?" Michael stammered. His mood changed in an instant. "You're -- not telling me you fucking -- bought another one, not after the first time, Jeremy."

Jeremy defended himself weakly. "I didn't buy it." He told Michael how he'd found the pill in his pocket after the play and how he suspected it was part of the Squips' plan all along. "I didn't buy it."

"But you didn't throw it out," Michael countered, his voice rising. He stood and glared down at Jeremy. "You took it. Dude, that was a stupid thing to do and you knew it. Why would you take the fucking thing? To be cool again? To help get rid of me again?"

Jeremy stood. "No, Michael, I never wanted to get rid of you!" He was frantically trying to come up with an excuse, to no avail.

"Then why?"

Jeremy snapped. "Because, nobody else could help me!" he shouted, right in Michael's face.

Michael fell silent. The fists at his sides relaxed and he seemed to wilt. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

When in doubt, tell the truth, Jeremy thought. Deep breath. "I took it after Christine and I broke up. It's not easy to get over someone, you know." Michael didn't need to know he wasn't talking about Christine there.

"I know." Michael shook his head. "I just don't understand. I thought you two were on good terms, especially seeing you today at lunch."

"Still." He couldn't elaborate because he didn't know what else to say.

Michael pondered this for a moment. His voice softened. "There has to be something else..." He moved closer to Jeremy, studying his face carefully. "Or someone else..."

Jeremy met his gaze, their noses nearly touching just like the drunken night that seemed to be a million years ago, tears forming in his eyes as he gave Michael a look of complete helplessness. "I'm sorry."

He flinched when Michael reached up and brushed away the single tear that had spilled. He didn't move his hand away from Jeremy's cheek. "Jeremy..." he murmured. "It's okay." Michael leaned in, tentatively, torturously slow.

And then they were kissing.

Jeremy's mind went completely blank and he was ruled by only his senses, without a trace of rational thought. All he could feel, all he could hear, all he could smell was Michael, Michael, Michael.

As suddenly as it began, it was over, and Michael was pulling back, cursing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He hugged his arms and turned away. "Fuck... you didn't... you're not..." He whipped back around. "Jeremy, I'm sorry, that was not okay -- "

"That... was more than okay." Jeremy was breathless. "It's you, Michael. The someone else, it's you."

Without a word, Michael grabbed him roughly around the waist and kissed him again. Jeremy moaned softly as his shaky hands reached up to cup Michael's face, and Michael laughed a little at that because of course Jeremy would fucking moan right now, it's Jeremy, and he realized -- he was kissing Jeremy, after wanting to for so long, and he was pulling him even closer, and Jeremy couldn't believe that this was Michael, and they were kissing, and it was amazing.

This second kiss was so much better, Jeremy decided. There was no regret, or hesitation, or fear, it was just them, together, two awkward teenage boys who happened to be best friends, who happened to be kissing. It was perfect, and imperfect, which made it even more perfect.

It was surreal.