#I woke my dad up ranting into my phone with speech to text

[howlonghaveyoubeenseventeen]

me in my room giving a speech about how they purposely removed important key traits about jacob from the new moon movie that made him a better person in the book like how he told bella he would be her friend if that’s what she wanted but he would wait forever to be a romantic partner for her if she ever decided that but he wasn’t trying to push her to be in a relationship and how in the book bella doesn’t have to tell him that she doesn’t like music anymore he just figured that out on his own and in the book he doesn’t bring up edward to her randomly like that scene where he talks about “that cullen guy” and her smile fades that doesn’t happen in the book he literally avoids mentioning edward because he can tell that would make her really upset and he knows her so well and he’s a great friend to her and even if you don’t ship bella and jacob together you end up loving his character while you read new moon and-

[elizabethplaid]

Saturday's notes, part 2 - May 4, 2024

Part one here

Things got better as the day went on, after the alarm debacle in the morning. LL-K shared cookies with me from our fav local bakery, the one with the huge cookies.

When I went to pick up my take-out order, they didn't have it. Turns out, dad never hit the confirmation thing to finish making the order on their website. I almost asked to make the order right then, but I just wanted to go home. I texted my dad before leaving, then tried calling him, but his battery had died. So yeah, just go home; didn't want to wait another 20 minutes.

(Plus my Lego friend was starting her stream soon, and I wanted to chat with her as much as I could. Still ended up being like half an hour late, but she was still just getting started.)

THEN, on the drive back, I re-encountered the same lawn ornament I'd forgotten about from my drive out that morning. Remember the shadow-silhouette cut-outs that were popular in the late 90s? (Well, at least they were popular in NC, back then.) Some motherfucker had a human-sized one, like it was walking out from behind the power pole. Freaked me the fuck out, thinking someone was walking into the road.

Then I'm like, "Wait, those arms look familiar." IT WAS FUCKING SASQUATCH! And then it got me again, as I drove home! It wasn't even obscured by the pole on this side, and it got me even worse. Like, of all the shit that happened, that's the one that pisses me off the most. It's the only one that I can't let roll off my back.

Ok, so I got home, confirmed with dad that he forgot to finish the order. He was pretty apologetic about it. I put it on-par with how I fucked up the alarm that morning, so eh *shrug emoji*. He made some frozen stir fry meal for us instead. Certainly not the best, because it's a frozen thing and not made by responsible chefs, but it hit the spot. Plus dad did the work, as I ranted about Sasquatch. Very sweet of him.

Got to my friend's stream and chatted with her. Looked up some Lego stuff, shared links, etc. After finishing my food, I told her about my day. She encountered the same Sasquatch cut-out in her area, too. Big laugh with that.

She started her stream at 6pm, and she was on bag 10 of 22 by the time I bailed. (She intends to start at bag 12 for the next stream, I think.) It was after 1am, and I admitted that I'd been up since 5:30pm the previous evening. She's like, "Go to bed, girl." I texted her a pic of me in bed, with my Monty Python rabbit biting my face, to confirm I obeyed her order, haha. Still felt antsy (a "toddler tantrum" of resistance) and played on the phone for a bit. Finally put down the phone at 2am.

Woke sometime after 8am, to my daily "good morning" message. Text-chatted with phone friend, kind of explained how frustrated I was feeling. Both over- and under-stimulated, body-fatigued and brain-wired. Writing out my thoughts helped me vent the feelings, thankfully. Vocal-speech talking is tough on me, trying to find and form the words. But texting is easier, so I was able to form a lot of thoughts, and it got easier as I kept writing.

Texting with phone-friend and Lego-friend have really helped me. I don't know why they're different from other people I've talked with in the past. Maybe it's because they're both in Maine, or that they've met each other in person and I've met phone-friend in person. They're more tangible than other internet friends, even though we're still apart most of the time. =======

I'm still jittery, now that I'm more awake. Just a bouncing leg. My mind has calmed to the point where I could probably doze off if I laid down again. Briefly considered going to Ellsworth with my dad, at least to pick up fast food. Nah, I think I want to nap; it's probably wiser in the long-run.

As usual, I have library on Tuesday. Thursday is a dental appointment in the morning (fillings on back molars), followed by meeting up with my phone-friend. They've convinced me to try boba tea for the first time, so that's my plan for Friday, before heading back home.

It'll be a lot of chilling again, snacking in the room instead of going to a restaurant. After dental stuff, I want to take it easy anyway.

Just need to make sure I have my gifts for phone-friend's family wrapped, and I'm all set. I'm glad I went with an alternate plan. The embroidered drawstring bag will wait til Christmas, thankfully. =======

So yeah, I had a fucking day, my god. I'm in a better mood now, though more venting will be necessary. Still feeling like an over-stimulated toddler, somewhat. Struggling with the weight of fabrics on my skin versus feeling chilly. Had to close my window after I woke up.

Will probably go back to bed soon, though I might read webcomics or that Jane Eyre thing. (They just had the scene where the ~mystery person~ set fire to the dude's bedroom, hahaha.)

[namjuicyy]

Three’s A Crowd - Chapter One

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Angst, fluff.

Word Count: 1.7k.

Summary: Your childhood friend shows you a whole new world, but no one expected what came afterwards.

Warnings: Low self-esteem, Jimin hardships.

"She was always there for me, it didn't matter that she couldn't understand what I was saying sometimes, she'd always answer the phone and listen to me complaining about my life."

Jimin's self-esteem was shot. Since he began high school, he had a problem with confidence and you had no idea where it came from. His parents and brother were always so supportive of him and praised him so much. Yet, there he was, texting you while you were trying to sleep because he'd made a small error in his practise and considered it to be the worst mistake he'd ever made in his life. There was no lie in your message, you were so proud of him when he sent you that video of him dancing to a Korean song you didn't know. You'd hoped that you could settle some of his worries. But that was evidently not the case when he asked to call you.

Chatting to Jimin on Skype was a regular occurrence, despite not being able to fully understand one another yet. You, since starting secondary school, had begun to learn Korean as an extra-curricular activity, and so every now and then you could pick up what he was saying. But you couldn't hold a conversation with him. So when he video-called you, and you were face-to-face, you didn't understand what he was telling you but it still felt right.

This morning was one of those times where he would call you just to rant at you. He was in the bathroom of his school, his chubby cheeks that he retained from childhood stained with his tears. His plump, bottom lip trembled as he weakly spoke to you, unloaded all his worries onto you and shared the weight of his burden. All you could really offer him were coos of the pet name you gave him and telling him that he was much better than he thought he was.

"Please, Jiminie, don't cry." You begged him in a whisper as you were too afraid to let your parents hear you awake at this time of the morning. "You're an amazing dancer, truly! I'm not just saying that to blow smoke up your arse, either. Anyone would be lucky to work with you, or watch you perform! You made one mistake, you're allowed to do that."

Jimin nodded, as if he was taking in everything you were saying. He couldn't lie, the soft tone in which you were speaking soothed him. He stopped crying when he heard your reassurance. He wiped his tears away and swallowed. "Thank you." He said in English.

In broken Korean, you thanked him for leaning on you.

"What time?" He asked.

"Oh, um, 3:20."

"Morning?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. You sleep."

In Korean you told him that you would, but only when you were sure he was happy again.

He laughed at your mispronunciation and your broken speech. Jimin was your best friend... really your only true friend. Sure there were people at school you hung around with, but you were sure you'd never see them again when you all went your separate ways. But you were learning a whole other language for Jimin. He must have been special to you.

He finally called it quits around 4:00am, practically forcing you to sleep. He blew you a kiss goodbye, as he usually did when you hung up, and let you get back to sleep. If he could have tucked you in, he would have.

Two mornings later, you received another call from Jimin, this time he was in a completely different mood. You were sat enjoying your breakfast when you received the call, something that made Jimin laugh. You would often have, what he called breakfast-dinner dates, because you'd just start your day when he called you about to end his. You couldn't make out a lot of the words he was saying, but you did hear "teacher", "good" and "grades", so you were assuming his recital was today and that he did really well. He certainly sounded like he did at least. He was rolling around on his bed like a mad man and was practically screaming at you. Your parents, who were also in the room and listening to him, were also chuckling to themselves. They understood nothing in comparison to you, so all they heard was a small Korean boy shouting at the top of his lungs. His happiness was contagious, though, and the rest of your day was spent with a smile on your face despite the people who went out of their way to purposefully attempt to upset you.

But it worked both ways, Jimin would call you to share news and you would call him to share news. He saw you crying more often than your own family did, and would always do something anything to make you smile again. He hated it when you were upset. He hated it more because he wasn't there to physically hold you, and gently rock you, and kiss you on the top of the head. He couldn't reassure you that everything would be okay like he would normally have done.

You began learning Korean at age 11, and by 13 you were pretty much fluent in the language, making Jimin's need to learn English almost obsolete. Jimin, out of everyone you knew, was the most proud of you. He'd refer to you as his bilingual bestie, and would often call you in the middle of lunchtimes at his school so he could brag to his friends about how you'd learnt his language in two years.

According to you, it was just a normal day in July. You woke up at seven o'clock, got yourself ready for school and made your way downstairs to your dining room where your dad had left you some breakfast on the table. Your mum was usually sat at the dining table enjoying her breakfast and reading through the day's news, your dad would come into the dining room after you with a hot drink for himself and your mum. Your life consisted of a blissful routine, except for that day.

Both your parents were sitting at the dining table, their breakfast hardly touched and massive smiles on their faces. Knowing grins and mischievous glints in their eyes which immediately gave away that they were up to something. You suspiciously went about your routine, commenting on how weird they were being. "Weird?" Your dad questioned. "Who's being weird? I'm not being weird. Are you being weird, my dear?"

"No, darling." Your mum responded. "I'm not being weird. Why would she think we're being weird? We aren't the weird ones here."

"No of course not."

You began preparing your breakfast and started tucking in, when you heard your mother tut. "What?" You asked, defensively yet playfully. "Can't I enjoy my breakfast in peace without my parents acting strange?"

"Do you want to know what's strange, honey-bumpkin?" Your mum asked your dad.

Your dad shook his head. "Honey-bumpkin?"

"It was the first thing that came to my head, alright? Go with it."

Your dad rolled his eyes. "What, poochie-pie?"

"Poochie-pie, really?"

"Well you called me honey-bumpkin."

"I feel like there's a point to this charade, guys." You piped up. "Anyone going to share it?"

"Right." Your dad shook his head again, this time symbolising that he was shaking away the previous seriousness to return to his playful banter with his wife. "What do you find strange, my beautiful wife?"

"Aw." Your mum cooed. "I find it strange how our little ___, who is usually so perceptive and smart, hasn't noticed that her plate is a little wobbly while she's been trying to eat."

"Really? She hasn't noticed the whopping great envelope under her food?"

"No she hasn't."

You saw it after they pointed it out to you. Your confusion was clearly etched on your face as you moved your plate out of the way to reveal a large envelope addressed to you. It was in Jimin's handwriting. Since you'd both entered the world of the Internet and discovered instant messaging, the letters became few and far between. The last time you saw his handwriting, it was messy and childish. But the lettering on the envelope was small, but neat. He'd improved a great deal. You turned it over to reveal a small, cute sticker keeping the envelope shut. It was a bright pink heart cartoon sticker that would be almost garish if it didn't come from Jimin. You, gently, in order to spare Jimin's feelings, peeled open the envelope to reveal a short handwritten letter from him.

"Read it out loud!" Your mum exclaimed, her excitement too strong to hide.

"In English!" Your dad interrupted, knowing your sense of humour would have made you begin to read it in Korean. You chuckled at how well your family knew you.

You cleared your throat and began to read:

To my bilingual bestie,

It's your boy, Chim-Chim here! It's been a while since we've done this, huh? I think the last letter I sent you was wishing you a Merry Christmas. Or was it a Happy New Year? I don't remember, I've slept since then.

I just wanted to let you know how proud we all are of you. You're doing so well in school, and now you're fluent in a whole other language. You continue to amaze me even now! I think you've even amazed your parents, too.

But my family and yours were talking and we thought it was a bit strange how you were fluent in the language of a country you've never visited before. Usually people visit the country then learn the language, but you've done things backwards. So, this needs to be rectified as soon as possible.

I hope you haven't made any plans for the summer break, because you're going to be spending it in Korea with me! SURPRISE! You have no IDEA how hard it's been for me to keep this from you.

Your mum and dad can't unfortunately get the time off work, but they've made us promise we'll pick you up from the airport and drop you off again when you go home. But I don't think I'll want to let you go home. I think I'll steal you and hide you somewhere where no one can find you, and then sneak you cakes and biscuits when nobody's looking. Yes. Let's do that!

Anyway, I'll see you in (at the time of writing this) 10 days, 12 hours, 30 minutes and 25 seconds. 24... 23... 22... 21... oh I'm so excited! Your arrival at Incheon can't come quick enough.

All my love,

Chim-Chim!

Xxxx

As soon as you looked up from your letter, your parents screamed at you. They ran over to you and wrapped their arms around you, still screaming at full pitch in your ear as you began to cry happy tears. You were going to finally meet your best friend in the whole world, and it was all down to the people you loved the most.

[arts0uls]

Eighteen.

(Short Story)

Dela Rosa, Rebekah Charm G.

12-Jotham

          I have hated you for the longest time, Hiraya. The reason is still unclear. Maybe it is because the only times I remember you were bad encounters. It could be that time when you made fun of my art in 7th grade which ruined my perception of my craft, or when my mom died of cancer and yours was her resident doctor. Though you barely have contact with her, it still bothered me. Your faces were remarkably similar in my defense. It could also be insecurity, the way you are always talking with everyone in classes like it was the most important thing in the world—socializing, the only thing I hate more than you. But whenever we talked, it would always be about something that would trigger me. You like long talks and deep conversations; I like peaceful silence and short awkward exchanges that were enough not to be labeled as disrespectful.

          Despite these unfortunate encounters, I did not loath you the day I saw you in the emergency room that one night. It appeared that you were waiting for someone to attend to you, or maybe your dad took care of that and that is why he left you in the waiting area. I looked away then looked again to avoid seeming like a creep, I also tried if my hatred would come back after a second look. However, it did not. It could be that The Beatles shirt you had on, even though you picked on me for liking that band—accusing me of being a wanna-be-hipster. Maybe it was the way you sat restless in that metal chair. You still looked like that girl who had so much to say in high school, but your eyes were different. Your eyes gave up.

          When I met you, we were in 7th grade. You already knew which president should be elected and which one would win even though the debates just aired. I could not describe how annoyed I was. It was just the way you never lost a debate or even everyday arguments that made you seem so impossible. I stutter on greetings, yet there are people like you who talk for hours. And you still have the guts to rant about your self-esteem issues on Twitter, you are unbelievable. I always thought of why you couldn’t just be content for being an extrovert. This world was made for extroverts like you, not for people like me. I should’ve been the one ranting on Twitter to death.

          As the nurse started to escort you, I had a feeling I would meet you again. I knew you were going to make another one of those unnecessary exchanges. You all were walking towards my direction, of course, you’re going to be escorted to the bed next to mine. I am not certain with other things, but with this, I was. And I was not wrong either.

          “Nick.” You said. Surprisingly, I didn’t hate it at all. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen you for so long. I looked at you and you had a sly smile. “Hiraya.” I said. I gave you a quick nod, then I looked away. You chuckled. “You haven’t changed a bit.” You add. What did you even mean? Is it the way I looked? Was it my mannerisms? I shook my thoughts away asking you what you were doing in the hospital. “I’ve been passing out and vomiting my brains out. I don’t know what’s up with me yet.” You said. You’re always straightforward. You continue, “It sucks. I was gonna see Ely Buendia live next week but look at what stupid crap I have to put up with.”

          “How ‘bout you?”

          “I’m having surgery tomorrow. I mean, hopefully, tomorrow’s good.”

          Your eyes widened. They were still beautiful—your eyes. Your eyelids’ folds grew a bit more though. And yes, you had really beautiful eyes. It was not the only thing beautiful about you though. You once made this beautiful speech for History in 8th grade, your eyes were burning as you ran your mouth on colonialism. Your hands were beautiful too, I reaffirmed that as you tucked your hair behind your ear, apologizing for my state.

          Of course, I tell you it’s fine. You had nothing to do with it, you didn’t know anything. You didn’t know my dad didn’t want to push this through because it’s what killed my mom and my other relatives. I still wanted to do the surgery. ‘It’s just a stage one tumor anyway’, I keep telling myself. Besides, it’s true. We all are going to die at some point, this surgery just has the probability of extending me like a text subscription. And what’s the point of wanting a life if you won’t fight for it?

            “Tomorrow night is available.” My resident doctor says after a day of meeting you again. I got transferred to a room and so were you, but I still did not know then. Our awkward silence is disrupted by what appeared to be a distressed woman coming from the hall. A nurse enters to assist my doctor and take note of our confirmation. My doctor, later on, asks the nurse what the fuss was all about. They quietly converse but not quiet enough for me not to hear.

          “Oh, that’s Dr. Palma. Her daughter just got diagnosed with Brain Aneurysm.”

          “What? Unbelievable. Ella and Anna are just grade-schoolers.”

          “No, no. Daughter from her first husband.”

          I could not believe what I just heard. You. You were diagnosed with a Brain Aneurysm. Someone like you? I could not have thought. People like you are those characters that either overthrow a corrupt government or become a superstar at the end of a story. But this is real life and in real life, you were diagnosed with a Brain Aneurysm.

            That night, all I could think of was the confirmation that you were in fact human. You weren’t a super-being; you weren’t a character in a story. At that moment, maybe you did feel vulnerable too, I thought. What if your strong personality was because of your parents’ separation? Maybe I didn’t understand you enough. I loathed myself for loathing you—you’re just another person after all. I’m not a deity to judge you for your actions nor am I someone who could cure you. Yet I hit you up that night as if I were a supreme being. As if I could cure you.

          I open an overused messenger application to contact you. I asked the most stupid question.

          “How are you?”

          I hated myself so much. What was I thinking? Yet it seemed to be the right move, you replied quickly.

          “I’m going to die.”

          Nope. Still a bad idea and a stupid question.

          “I’m so sorry.” I replied.

          “I’m gonna die. I don’t have any music downloaded on this phone. I have them on my other phone! God, I’m really stupid, aren’t I? Haha.”

          You really are unbelievable. What is more unbelievable is the favor you asked of me. You asked me to record myself singing. You even brought up our video for CLE in 9th grade where we had to make a video of us singing a gospel song and everyone noticed my voice. “Too bad you’re not at home. You could’ve accompanied yourself with a guitar too.” You add, teasing me about learning Magbalik’s song intro at school. What’s even more unbelievable was that I did the favor you asked me of.

          You were human, I remembered. You were a human who was diagnosed with Aneurysm, and I asked you the most stupid question. How could I turn you down? You just wanted to hear ‘Eighteen’ by One Direction through a voicemail of someone who listens to a completely different genre. But we’re both 18, and everyone who turns 18 knows that song. You continue to say you only have a year to find someone and make that the anthem of your wedding in a few years. The unbelievability of that night continues as you compliment me. Not a single mockery. You thank me and say goodnight. I say it back.

             My surgery was a success. As I said, it was only stage one anyway. It was definitely worth the risk. That time, I wondered if you went through surgery or if you even still had that on the table. You’re still young yet you have this disease limiting you from living a life like how a One Direction fan would want. So curious, I decide to visit you a day after I got discharged.

          I wish I didn’t visit you. You told me you weren’t having surgery because it wasn’t worth the risk. You proceeded to tell me you plan on donating your organs. We all know what that meant. You have accepted your death. I wish I didn’t visit you because it made me realize why I truly did hate you. In 4th year of junior high school, you told me you were leaving for senior high. I had this feeling I did not like, a wave of loneliness just crashed onto me. I felt like I was drowning. You were leaving, I did not like that. Because at that moment, and I didn’t know, I already liked you.

          But you left for senior high school, I couldn’t blame you. We were in the same institution from grade school to junior high school and we could attest to its poor performance. That’s why we were always in the same class because no one went there unless you’re from that area and it’s the nearest school. That was our case. So you left, I guess I hated you ever since.

          “Hey, could you come back tomorrow and bring your guitar with you?” You shook away my thoughts as you gave me a request. Let me tell you, a request is harder to turn down in person. It would always be hard to say ‘no’ while looking at your eyes. So I come back and visit every time you ask me to.

            Your songs were the soundtrack of my day and night. In the night, I would practice the song you asked for like it’s my very last gig ever. In the day, I still get nervous like it’s my first time singing to you. We were classmates so that means that you have heard me play and I’ve jammed with you all more than I could remember. Yet I’m still nervous every time I go into your room to visit. I’m thankful that you made efforts to make me feel comfortable. Like how you tell me to visit when your dad’s gone or when your friends aren’t over because you’d know how uncomfortable it makes me feel. It must be the time that we’ve already spent together. But now, our time is limited.

          There was this one time I fell asleep waiting for you to wake up. As soon as I woke up, I saw you just starring at me. We smiled at each other and you looked so beautiful. I was about to get my guitar, but you held my hand stopping my tracks as if you wanted us to stay like that longer. But I understood your touch, it meant we won’t have moments like these anymore anytime soon. There won’t be a future with us waking up next to each other, because one day you won’t ever wake up again.

          Our smiles fade, you understood as well.

          “Not that it counts now, but I like you.” You said.

          “It counts. I’ve liked you for the longest time.” I answered.

            You were way ahead of your time. Literally. It’s not just how you told me before that you had to grow up immediately to cope with your mom leaving both you and your dad, it’s also the fact that you told me you only have a week left. It made me upset.

          “Why can’t you just fight it?”

          “There’s no chance, Nick. I won’t risk it.”

          “Why? Don’t you want a future? Suddenly it’s alright for you to just stop living?”

          You paused for a moment and then answered, “Do you know who’ll get my kidneys? She’s a single mother. She lives off of contractual work and her 3-year-old daughter will go to school this year, My heart goes to this kid who will be having heart failure, they told me all about him. He has imaginary friends. I used to have those. I hope my eyes go to this sixteen-year-old though, she’s still not sure but I hope she says yes.”

          “If I risk it, my death won’t mean anything.” You said. “My whole life, I’ve been for the people. Believing in advocacies and in serving the people. But I’ve done nothing. I’ve been all talk, Nick. But now, I have the chance to save more lives. Do you how much that means to me? My death will actually mean something. I might’ve actually answered the Trolley Problem.” We both chuckle at your last statement. I nod trying to be understanding and hide the way I was so selfish that time for wanting to keep you from doing your most selfless act.

          I eventually meet your friends and your dad. They were alright. All I wished for was that you stayed just as alive as we were.

          On the day before you go away, I stayed with you until sunset. Of course, you had to spend the night and your last day with your dad. “If I had tomorrow with you, I’d bring you to this place in Baguio where I went to every year when my mom was still alive,” I said. “We didn’t even get to try Tiktok.” You say and I chuckle. “I wish I had more time with you, I would’ve brought you everywhere so that everything would remind you of me.” You said. “I’ll remember you. I’d go to our high school every time just to remember you. Hell, I’ll remember you even in my room trying to sleep because I can’t forget you.” Needless to say, we both wish we had more time.

          “Hiraya, It’s too soon to say, but I’ll never get to say it anyway.” I said. “I don’t know what love is, I’m still trying to figure it out. But if I had to define it on my own, I’d say that you’re my very own kind of love.” I said. “I love you too.” You respond. Whether we mean it or not, it doesn’t change anything. We both won’t get to say it to each other ever again. And if this is love, if I actually do love you, it still doesn’t change the fact that you’ll be gone tomorrow.

             Tomorrow came, so did the next day after that, the next month, and the next year. You forgave your mom. You said goodbye to your dad. You put other people first. You leave me again. You haven’t changed a bit, Hira. Because of your broken pieces, many were mended. I know I’ve hated you for the longest time, but I’ve loved you in our short time together and more. Also, I get to say I’ve loved you since we were Eighteen.

[machihunnicutt]

Could you write something with the purple mountain dew? Joe said that it does a body swap with the user and the squip :)

(Anon I’m super sorry this took literally forever. Hope you like it and thanks for the request!)

(Or read on ao3.)

It started with an unfortunate Amazon mix up. Of course Jeremy (being Jeremy) didn’t realize there was a mix up or how unfortunate it was until after the fact.

“Hey Jer, you got a package. I picked it up on the way in.” Michael handed him the box and plopped down on the couch cushion beside him. “What is it?” He sat close. Their shoulders pressed together and Michael smelled of the pot and sickly sweet cherry slushy like he always did. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

Things had gone back to normal after the Squip incident (or more accurately a series of incidents) junior year in some ways. He still spent most of his free time playing video games or getting stoned in Michael’s basement. But he had more friends now. Squip-less Rich was a actually a pretty nice guy. Jeremy had listened to Rich rant about everything from “the One Direction members from least to most hot: a definitive, supported by aesthetic evidence, list” to “10 things I’m going to do to determine whether or not Jake Dillinger likes me back”…so boys, Jeremy listened to Rich talk about boys. And sometimes they texted about their Squips. It was hard to talk about it in person but it was nice to have someone else who understood. It was nice to have someone who got it when things fell apart.

He talked to all of them now: Rich, Jake, Chloe, Jenna, Brooke, and even Christine. He never thought he’d be able to have multiple conversations with Christine Canigula without throwing up or talking too loud or otherwise panicking like a fish out of water. Especially after they went on two awkward dates (concluding, mutually, that it would be best to just stay friends), but so far everything had been working out in that sector of his personal life. 

That sector didn’t include his ridiculous crush on his best friend. He’d told Rich, accidentally, when he found the initials doodled inside of hearts in his math notes. He only made fun of him a little and proclaimed that he’d called it while Jeremy turned beet red. He asked him why he didn’t just say something to Michael.

But there was another thing that  hadn’t changed since the Squip nonsense: Jeremy Heere had never been good at talking about his feelings.

“It’s just some more Mountain Dew Red,” he muttered. He was kind of ashamed at how frequently he had to use it to keep the Squip at bay. Senior year was kind of kicking his ass academically. He had hard classes and college decisions to stress out over endlessly. And when he got anxious he started to doubt himself. And when he doubted himself the Squip got bad. “I was running out.”

“Alrighty,” Michael replied without a hint of judgement or guilt. He loved that he spoke like that. He loved that Michael was still here after everything that had happened between them. He loved a lot of things about Michael Mell.

They played video games in silence for a little while, until they both got tired and ended up watching Bob’s Burgers instead. Jeremy was tired but he didn’t want to stretch his legs out into Michael’s space in order to adequately lean on the arm of the couch and he also didn’t care for the other option (which was leaning on Michael, and maybe the problem was that he cared too much for that option.) He tried to keep his squirming to a minimum as he got comfortable but he wasn’t doing a particularly good job of it.

What do you think you’re doing Jeremy? You can’t sit on a couch without assistance anymore?

He winced as the Squip’s familiar voice intercepted his thoughts. He ignored it. It was better to just not respond.

“You okay?” Michael was looking at him with concern and Jeremy realized his entire body had tensed up.

“I’m okay. Just tired,” he said, jaw still tight.

Michael tilted his head to one side in sleepy confusion and worry and something else Jeremy couldn’t pin down. “Here.” Michael opened his arms wide. “Come lean on me.”

Jeremy felt his face heat up. Why was he getting so weird about this now? He’d been friends with Michael for years and had accidentally dozed off on his shoulder countless times. Now he could feel his heart in his throat.

It’s different now because you’re a coward who can’t tell him how you feel.

It was getting harder to push down his feelings…that was for sure. Jeremy was a “bottle it up and hide it under the bed” kind of guy when it came to dangerous emotions or complex feelings. But after the Squip incident he thought maybe he had too many bottles under there.

He shoved off the Squip’s probing and leaned into Michael’s arms, putting his head on his shoulder and turning his attention back on the TV. Michael wrapped his arms gently around Jeremy’s shoulders and pulled him closer, resting his chin on the top of Jeremy’s head.”You’ve gotta remember to take it easy Jer.”

Just because he’s nice to you doesn’t mean he feels the same way Jeremy.

“I know that,” Jeremy muttered aloud.

“What was that?” Michael asked.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

As soon as Michael went home Jeremy opened up the Amazon package and hardly looked at the can of Mountain Dew as he drank nearly half of it. He was so focused on drowning the asshole in his brain that it didn’t register that the Mountain Dew tasted odd until he set the can down.

“Mountain Dew Purple?!” He shrieked. “I didn’t order this. Oh God what does the purple kind do?”

You’ll see.

“No, you’re not allowed to be weird and cryptic. Tell me what’s going on.” Jeremy got up and shut the door to his room in case his dad could overhear.

Suddenly, he felt a strange crawling beneath his skin and jolt like electricity up his spine. I said you would see.

Jeremy blacked out for a moment or two and when his vision came back things were…different…like weird different. He was still him, but he felt weirdly removed from his body, as if his consciousness had sunken into the back of his brain.

“We’ve switched places,” the Squip said with Jeremy’s voice. “Now you’re the one inside of me.”

That doesn’t make any sense! I’m not a computer! The Squip rolled Jeremy’s eyes and it was an exceedingly strange, out of body experience.

“It’s not a big deal. It’ll only last a day or so. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something by looking at things the way I do.”

So you’re not going to try to take over the world again?

“Don’t be an idiot Jeremy. I’ve hardly the time or resources to try something like that again. I’m on your side.”

Jeremy didn’t trust it, of course he didn’t, but for the time being it seemed like he needed to stay on the Squip’s good side.

I should call Rich.

“Sure, but I’ll be doing the talking Jeremy Heere.” The Squip made his voice sound eerily confident and smooth in a way Jeremy didn’t think he could speak. This was weird. He was strangely drawn to the Squip’s vision of him: the way he held his shoulders back instead of hunching over, the confident cross of his arms over his chest instead of Jeremy’s usual nervous squirming of hands in his cardigan, and the even stride as he walked to the end table and picked up Jeremy’s phone.

*Calling: Richard “Baller” Goranski*

“Sup dude? How’s my other favorite bisexual?” Rich said when he picked up. He sounded uncharacteristically pleased. Now that he thought about it he rarely called Rich. It was mostly texting or in person communication between them.

“Hello Rich,” the Squip said.

“Whoa Jeremy you sound really weird. Is there something wrong?” Jeremy couldn’t help but grin at how quickly Rich had caught on. He really was his friend. Sometimes that was hard to say. Jeremy wasn’t great at accepting friendship.

Tell him.

“Fine Jeremy, I’ll tell him. Though I thought I was doing an adequate job of imitating your speech patterns.”

“Dude, what’s going on? Do you need help?” The interesting thing about this switch was that he wasn’t clouded by his own emotions when listening to Rich. If he stopped thinking so much about himself and listened to Rich it became clear that he really did care. He wasn’t his friend out of pity or guilt like Jeremy couldn’t help but think sometimes.

I’m fine.Tell him I’ll be fine I just want to know if it’s ever happened to him before.

“Jeremy wants me to tell you that he’s fine. He drank some Mountain Dew Purple and switched places with me. It will wear off in a little while but he’s freaking out and wants me to ask you if you’ve ever done the same thing. Judging by your reaction you have not.”

“What the hell Jeremy where did you get Mountain Dew Purple?!”

“Amazon, apparently.”

“Holy shit Jeremy Heere. No it hasn’t happened to me. Are you sure you’re okay? I can come over if you need me.”

I’m fine Rich, really. Thank you.

“He says he’s fine and he says thank you. And he’s thinking that you’re a really good friend but he didn’t tell me to say that.”

Rich laughed.”You’re a good friend too Jeremy. I’ll see you at school tomorrow okay? I’ll help you out.”

Thanks Rich.

“Goodbye Richard.”

“Fuck you Squip.”

***

Everything was blurry when Jeremy woke up. His thoughts swam above him like he was laying at the bottom of the pool looking up at the rippling surface of the water. He remembered laying on the bottom of the public pool during summers when he was little. He and Michael would walk there, sweaty and sunscreen covered as they made their way on lazy afternoons. Jeremy would get overwhelmed by all the neon pool noodles and shouting, splashing, kids and Michael would take his hands and count to three before they both went underwater. There it was quiet and dreamy and when he wore his goggles he could open his eyes and see the way Michael’s hair floated in the chlorinated blue. When they came up for air Michael was always grinning or laughing, or tilting his head up to the pale sky.

And he said his name like it was his favorite flavor of ice cream. Jeremy. Jeremy.

“Jeremy.” The Squip pulled him from his nostalgia.

You’re going to be me today right? You have to listen to me so no one else catches on.

“Fine,” the Squip said flippantly.

Jeremy looked at himself in the mirror while he got ready. Only it was weird because it wasn’t really him. It was the Squip wearing his face. He looked tired: dark circles beneath his eyes and stress acne dotting his forehead.

“Do you even sleep?” The Squip smirked and it looked unnatural on his lips.

Shut up. I try.

“Jeremy? Don’t be late for the bus!” His dad called from downstairs.

Don’t ruin this.

“Relax, freak. Everything’s fine.”

Since the Squip incident his dad had been making more of an effort. For one, he actually wore pants. But more than that they talked now and he went out of his way to spend quality time with him.

“Have a good day at school son,” his dad said, handing him his backpack and clapping him on the shoulder. Jeremy noticed an insecurity in his gestures that he hadn’t before, when he was too busy rolling his eyes or wiping the sleep from his features. His dad was nervous. He didn’t want to disappoint him again.

Tell him you hope he has a good day too.

The Squip did as it was told and Jeremy watched his dad smile.

School was going to be a shit show. School was going to be awful but then Rich was coming up to him and holy shit he was so glad to see him.

“Hey Jer.” Jeremy was opening his locker and Rich leaned on the locker beside him faux casually. “You okay?” he whispered.

I’m alright. Don’t tell anyone what I told you though.

“He says to keep the switch under wraps, though I assume he primarily means don’t tell Michael.”

Rich’s nose wrinkled up in amusement. “I won’t say anything Jer. I’ve got you.”

Jeremy didn’t see Michael until lunch. He slipped in beside him at their usual table: Brooke and Chloe gossiping about God knows what to his right, Jenna helping Christine run lines to his left, and Rich and Jake thumb wrestling intensely across the table. Michael pulled his headphones off of his ears and put his plastic cup of grapes in between them so they could share like they usually did.

“How’s your day on a scale from 1 to 10?” Michael asked.

It’s about a 4 but don’t tell him that. Say 8.

“6,” The Squip said. “You?”

Michael considered. “A 7 probably. It’ll be at least an 8 if you say you’ll hang out at the park with me tonight?”

No don’t. Make something up. I don’t think you can fool him for that…

“Sure.” The Squip smiled with his face and for the first time in a long time Jeremy looked at Michael without worrying about what he looked like or how much he was squirming or how red his face likely was. “I love spending time with you,” the Squip added and Jeremy was about to tell him off for making it weird when he watched Michael blush. He actually blushed and stumbled over the next couple of words.

“I love spending time with you too. I should uh…I should go to study hall but I’ll see you later okay?”

Has he done that before?

“Remember that time you wore that fluffy sweater Christine knitted you to school?” The Squip said under its breath.

He remembered. The sweater was warm and big on his scrawny arms and chest and a pastel purple that he liked but was worried he’d get made fun of for wearing. When Michael saw him in it he’d had a brief double take before complimenting him.

Michael had a fever. That’s why he was so red when I asked him what he thought about the…wait. Are you saying what I think your saying?

“I don’t know Jeremy do you live in perpetual feverishness as well?”

He didn’t have a whole lot of time to process this new information because soon the school day was over and he was walking to the park to meet Michael. The night was slightly chilly and his teeth chattered but he didn’t mind. The Squip was the one feeling the cold anyway. The trees made haunting shadows against the night sky and he hurried to the glow of the street lights.

He found Michael on the swing set. “My day’s an 8.5 now,” he said with a small smile when Jeremy took the swing beside him. They swung back and forth and Jeremy guided the Squip though some vague small talk about the weird people at 7-11 and the bullshit history project they had shitty partners (not each other) for. 

“Hey Jer, are you worried about college? I mean I meant what I said about guys like us fitting in there but sometimes I feel really…” he hesitated, eyes falling to the mulch at their feet. “Lost I guess.”

I’m worried. I’m worried I’m not good enough to make it at college. I’m worried I’ll pick the wrong major or do the wrong things and screw everything up because I don’t know who I am yet.

For all he hated the Squip, he was grateful that he repeated his words exactly. Michael looked up at him. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something and then stopped. Jeremy could see the way his eyes shifted and dared to guess what he’d wanted to say next. Instead he said “You’re a really good friend Jeremy. And I think you’ll figure it out.”

I want my body back. I think he might…I mean I didn’t notice it before but now I really think he might…

The strange jolt of electricity hit him again. He blinked and he was in his own head again. 

You think Jeremy? The Squip said. Jeremy tuned him out. He didn’t need him in his head of this.

“Hey Michael can I ask you something?’

“Of course.” Michael shifted in the swing. “You can ask me anything.”

“Why did you stay by me after everything that happened? I said really awful things that I didn’t mean but…I treated you like shit Michael how could you just forgive me?”

“Jeremy, you’ve only apologized for this a million times.”

���I’m sorry. I’m still so sorry.”

“And I forgive you.” Michael got up and Jeremy followed him up to the top of the jungle gym. It was their other preferred spot. It was closer to the stars.”I’m never just going to leave Jeremy. Our friendship is worth more than that. Friends…people who mean a lot, hurt each other from time to time. It’s hard because it’s worth it.”

Sometimes everything felt hard. But nothing was worth it like Michael was worth it.

“I, um…” The nervous squirming was back. He ignored it. He needed to get it out now. Everything he wanted to say was swimming in the soda of a shaken up bottle. “I hope this doesn’t make everything weird and shitty but I feel like I need to say it so I’m just going to. I like you Michael. I mean I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. That have been really hard to ignore recently and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything but I feel like I’m running out of time to say how I’m feeling and I’ve always been really bad at that but you’re worth trying it for. Because I really really like you. You make me feel safe and wanted and you’re just so fun to be around and…anyway I’m going to stop talking now because that was a lot.”

“You like me?” He looked up at Michael again, careful not to fall off the jungle gym. He’d done that before when he was little. Michael helped him get to the nurse and didn’t make fun of him when he cried. “You’re not kidding?”

“Why would I be kidding?”

Michael laughed. “I don’t know because I’ve been highkey pining for you for years and I didn’t think you’d ever say something like that.”

“Y-years? Am I actually that clueless?”

“It’s okay Jer.” He laughed again. It was like coming up for air. It was clarity. “You’ve always been kind of clueless.”

“Can I kiss you then?” He asked before he lost his nerve. This time it was Michael who nearly fell off the jungle gym.

“Yeah…if you really want to.”

“I really want to.”

It was soft and it was nervous and it was over too soon but they’d have more time to practice. He got a text from his dad and he reluctantly told Michael that he had to go home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Michael said. The street light made his eyes shine. “We’ll talk more?”

“Definitely. Goodnight Michael.”

When he got home he threw away the Mountain Dew Purple. He had the perspective he needed all by himself.