Jeremy had texted Christine, but she never texted him back.

He'd made her cry. He couldn't get the image out of his head.

There's no sense in worrying about it, Jeremy.

Squip was right. He needed to stop worrying about it. He needed to focus on finishing up the semester and then going home. He had an entire summer to look forward to: the beach, hanging out with Michael and pulling all-nighter video game sessions, uninterrupted time with Squip, alone in his room.

He needed to focus.

He needed to keep it together.

He needed. He needed. He needed.

Something wasn't right.

Something hadn't been right since the day Christine had shown up in the coffee shop. Everything felt fuzzy, details lost in a tumultuous flow of time where nothing felt real and everything was too bright. He'd dissociated before, back in high school, after one too many stress-induced panic attacks. That's what it felt like. It was a fog, and he was lost in it. He couldn't think straight. Jeremy woke up and he didn't know what day it was. How long had he been sleeping? He didn't recognize his own hand held up in front of his face.

He looked in the mirror and he felt like a stranger looking back at himself. If he looked too long he felt dizzy, an overwhelming wave of haze that left him reeling and he had to lay down for a while. On more than one occasion he became aware of himself, where he was, but he didn't remember how he'd got there or why. Michael was talking to him and he could barely understand the words, so he just nodded along and pretended everything was fine.

It was even worse at night, when he was tired, head throbbing. He had a headache that wouldn't go away. Jeremy's fists were curled in his lap, staring at the far side of the room, at the wall, where the red stain of the Mountain Dew Red still remained. It looked wrong. Everything looked wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. He stood up and walked over to it, carefully, reaching out a hand to press his palm against the stain. It was solid, cool to the touch, really there after all. He sighed shakily and pressed his forehead against it, closing his eyes. Why, why, why.

Squip had its arms around him, back against its chest, warm and secure. Jeremy moved away from the wall and turned around, grabbing at clothes that weren't really there but felt more real than anything else in the room, a lump in his throat, breath hitching.

-I don't know what's happening.-

Squip tightened its grip around him, chin resting on top of his head, face tucked into its shoulder, hot tears threatening to spill.

I've got you. You're okay.

He was breathing fast, almost gasping, clinging to Squip like his very life depended on it, like his entire reality would suddenly unravel and vanish if he let go. Squip touched his back, pet his hair, pressed a kiss to his temple. Breathe. Breathe. I'm here. I'm here.

Jeremy stilled after a while, shoulders dropping, hands cold and numb. He eased himself away, back pressing against the wall, breathing, breathing. Everything was still foggy and dull, but it wasn't so oppressive anymore. It was manageable, a workable sense of unreality that he could live through. He could deal with this; this was his life now. Squip was looking at him, frowning, brows creased with concern and something else. It stepped forward, closing the new gap between them.

You need to focus.

-On what?-

It was hard to focus on anything.

On me.

He could do that. Squip was the only thing that looked halfway solid, almost convincing. Jeremy pressed the palms of his hands back against the wall, for something to ground himself, and Squip had its hands on his hips.

-What's wrong with me?-

Nothing is wrong with you.

He didn't believe it.

-My head hurts.-

Squip leaned in, resting their foreheads together.

I know. I'm sorry. I'll fix it.

What was it sorry for? Jeremy reached out a hand to grasp the back of Squip's neck, closing his eyes, focusing on the sensation of skin beneath his fingers. It kissed him then, and Jeremy kissed it back, harder, desperate. He needed to feel something, to be touched. Anywhere. Everywhere. Squip obliged, hands leaving his hips to roam, and Jeremy fisted his other hand in Squip's hair, to keep it where he wanted it. It pressed its leg between his, pushing up against him, causing Jeremy to groan.

That's what he wanted. This is what he wanted.

This is what they wanted.

Jeremy ground his hips forward, desperate for the contact, and Squip just let him, hands still moving, mouth hungry.

Jeremy, Jeremy.

When it was over he didn't feel much better, just vaguely uncomfortable, breathing ragged, still clinging to Squip. He was tired, so tired, it felt like his head was floating above the rest of his body and it was so disorienting that he couldn't move, but at least the headache had subsided somewhat.

He didn't know what he'd moved. He didn't know when he'd undressed, or showered, or gotten into bed. Jeremy was only half aware that it'd happened. And when he slept, for the first time, he dreamed of nothing. A dark solace, where nothing was too loud, or too bright. Just himself, floating, floating.

Things were a little easier after that.

He didn't need to think too much. The sensation became almost comforting. He drifted along, and all the hard things were done without worry, he could just sleep here forever, only occasionally coming up for air, then sinking down again. At some point, he'd completed his exams. Jeremy didn't remember taking them, but he'd passed with flying colors, and that was all that mattered.

He was home.

His dad greeted him at the door.

He felt the heat of summer sun soaking into his skin, the humidity just before the rain, mosquitoes buzzing in his ear. Jeremy didn't mind. He didn't mind much of anything, anymore.

There was Michael.

Michael was talking to him, but he couldn't hear the words. He was smiling, but he didn't really know why. They were in Michael's room and the familiarity of it was comforting. He could just watch, from somewhere far away, as his own body moved without his direction. It was easy. So easy. Why hadn't he just done this before?

Michael was looking at him.

Michael asked him a question.

It was like a rubber band snapping in his skull, pulling him violently out of the dreamlike place he'd been floating into harsh reality. It hit him all at once. The squeak of the ceiling fan, the bright-too-bright of Michael's bedroom light, how sweaty and uncomfortable he felt. Jeremy wanted to puke.

"Woah. Jeremy, are you okay? You look like you're about to hurl."

"I..." He'd forgotten he could talk. His ears were ringing, too loud, too bright. He stumbled back a bit. "You... What have you and Kevin been up to?"

His voice sounded strange and alien to his own ears. Michael looked at him, confused, concern growing as he stood up.

"Jeremy, Kevin and I broke up weeks ago. You were there."

"O-oh."

He couldn't remember. It hurt to remember. It hurt to think. His legs were shaking, and Michael was walking over to him quickly, too fast. There were lights dancing in his vision.

"You need to sit down." Michael's voice sounded muffled like his head was suddenly under water.

Jeremy.

Squip. He looked over at it, standing across the room, alarmed, afraid. It held out a hand toward him, but he couldn't see it anymore. Everything froze, faded away. And he was falling, falling,

f
a
l
l
i
n
g

"Jeremy? Jeremy!"

Michael in the distance, so far, far away. He was calling a name.

Who were they? He couldn't remember.

There was a boy who lived by the sea
He was lonely, without a family
For his parents had died without saying goodbye
Leaving nothing but fish and the empty sky

The boy was wise beyond his years
Inventive and fast, but scorned by his peers
A fisherman we'll make you yet
But the boy was useless with bait and a net

He dreamed a dream bigger than life itself
He'd sail away from this island as well
Create a world full of wonder and delight
To end misery, suffering, and human plight

He worked, he worked, oh, endless every night
As the others looked on thinking he wasn't quite right
They were poor, they were dire, they cared not for his way
But the boy didn't care; the work kept loneliness at bay

Until one day he did as he'd dreamed
He sailed to a city both big and esteemed
To begin work anew, a fresh start
Yet emptiness brewed deep in his heart

But as luck would have it, he met another
Not a boy, but a man, perhaps even a lover
They shared a dream, both big and small
And together they would work to bring it to all

Together they sailed far, far away
To another land, where someone would pay
To build life out of nothing, work hard every day
It was harder than he'd thought, but the boy would not be swayed

Don't give up, can't you see, the vision is clear
We work every day until we near
A time where no one has to die
No one sad, or empty, or left to cry

So the work went on
It went on
And on
On, and on,

and on
Until his body was

G͠o͔͙̲̞̖n͏̦̻͎̪ͅe͉̼̟͕̯

And the boy
Just a pawn

nothing left
just a heart on the floor
nothing more

nothing more

nothing

m
o
r
e

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