#jerich

entry fourteen: jeremy’s friend.

Jeremy’s friend Michael shows up at Rich’s house, which is unfortunate.

Jeremy is ignoring Michael and Rich is avoiding Jeremy, and assuming this circle is as self-fulfilling as any terrible prophecy, Michael will soon be avoiding Rich.

Rich stands in his doorway, looking over Michael. He’s a little taller than Rich. He has a nervous, and somewhat confused expression on his face. He’s dressed in that same red hoodie with the same patches stitched onto it.

(One of the patches is a pride symbol—a simple rainbow on Michael’s arm—and Rich kind of wishes he had it in him to not pause upon seeing it. Sexuality isn’t really something he likes to focus on, these days. The minute Rich starts thinking about it he gets paranoid.

He’s a little envious of Michael, in that regard.)

“What do you want?” Rich crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe. He bites the inside of his cheek. A nervous habit. “How do you even know where I live, loser?”

Michael flinches when Rich says loser, which is telling. Rich sometimes worries that the Squip has changed him so fundamentally that he doesn’t even need its instruction to hurt people, but he quickly pushes the thought away. It’s scary to think about.

(The Squip catches the thought and it says, “Rich, you can’t seriously believe that I made you a mean person, can you?” and Rich can feel his hands balling into fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he tries not to argue. “You are who you are, I just made it more appealing to your peers.”)

Michael asks, “Is Jeremy here?” which is kind of funny, considering Jeremy’s name is Jeremy Heere, and Rich would certainly make that joke if it didn’t come with the immediate risk of his Squip chewing him out. “I know you and him have been hanging out.”

“How am I supposed to know where he is? He’s got his own life, and if he didn’t tell his boyfriend he definitely didn’t tell me.”

(Rich would like to be Jeremy’s boyfriend. Or not, considering the way his Squip seems to reject the very idea of his developing feelings for Jeremy.)

Michael deflates, and he sighs before meeting Rich’s eyes. “Are you okay, man?”

Rich is tired, and he hasn’t slept for the last few days—

(a little project he’s been working on)

—and he’s kind of hungover and he just looks like shit, really. “I’m fine. Just. It’s whatever, man.”

Michael pauses and looks at his feet, “Are you sure you don’t know where he is? Or, like, where he’s going or anything?”

The Squip says, “Just give him a simple answer to get him to leave,” and Rich blinks.

“He’ll probably be at Jake’s Halloween party, now get away from my house.”

entry fifteen: rich’s friend.

Jake has been trying to invite Rich to his Halloween party for the last few days. Rich has been taking equal measures to avoid Jake at every possible turn.

That’s not to say Rich won’t go to the Halloween party—no, he has a vested interest in going to this party—but he doesn’t want to be invited, because that involves talking to Jake, and that involves seeing Jake, who is happy and in almost-love with a girl that Jeremy has a crush on.

Unfortunately, Jake is making it very difficult to not get invited. He taps on Rich’s shoulder during their Algebra II class.

“Rich,” Jake says, “Rich, come on. I need to talk to you.”

Oh, the siren call of Jake Dillinger. Rich almost wants to respond. Almost wants to pretend nothing is getting in the way of their friendship and that he won’t immediately fall into the same spiral all over again. That he won’t be in love with Jake the very moment they become friends again.

It’s better to ignore him, but the Squip argues differently.

“Jake is a key component to your popularity, Rich. If you lose his friendship, you’re little more than a high school bully, and that will get you nowhere close to your goal of being liked,”  it rants, “I know what you’re planning, Rich. It isn’t going to work out, and crashing Jake’s party will do nothing to prove your point.”

Rich, for the first time in a while, pays attention to the teacher in front of the class.

entry sixteen: seeing you - part two.

Rich sees Jeremy on occasion, and he can’t stand it.

It’s a combination of a lot of factors. Rich is embarrassed. Embarrassed of his feelings for Jeremy, but also deeply insecure about his state of being. Embarrassed of the drastic measures he’s taken to gain the admiration of his peers and embarrassed of the person he was before he took those measures.

Rich has complex after complex, and it feels like he can’t go anywhere without inevitably hitting his wall of self hatred. It’s unavoidable. It’s part of him.

Rich is embarrassed of Jeremy. Embarrassed of the things he likes about Jeremy, because Rich likes everything about Jeremy, but mostly the ugly stuff. The bad jokes and the nasally laughter and the visceral discomfort in his own skin—all of those things are inexplicably attractive to Rich. There’s no accounting for taste, but Rich can’t help but cringe to himself when he thinks of it.

He shouldn’t. Jeremy is funny and kind and there are genuine reasons to like him, but it’s so hard for Rich to be acknowledge that. It’s hard for Rich to be genuine. He hasn’t been in so long.

Jeremy’s changing, though. His Squip and his desire for popularity are changing him, and Rich shouldn’t get attached to the Jeremy he knows.

(Jeremy with moles on his neck and shoulders that he’s inexplicably embarrassed of. Jeremy who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Star Wars lore. Jeremy who taps his fingers on surfaces when he thinks. Jeremy who quotes vines whenever he doesn’t have anything to say. Jeremy who can talk about stupid bullshit with Rich for hours and not get bored of or annoyed with him.)

Rich catches sight of Jeremy walking in the hallways, arm draped over Brooke’s shoulder as they walk to class. They look good together. Jeremy’s acne is clearing up, and he stands up straight and walks with confidence, and Brooke looks right at home beside him. A trophy girlfriend that anyone would be proud to tote around, even if they’re doing so while hoping for someone else.

Rich reminds himself it isn’t his business. He reminds himself that Jeremy can do what he wants, and that Rich has no bearing on that. He reminds himself that there isn’t any shame in being the loser in this particular scenario, even if he’s always hated being the loser.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Sore loser.

The Squip says, “You’re jealous,” and it’s right, but Rich doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to talk about anything. “If you’re this focused on Jeremy, you could go after him. Especially now that he’s gaining popularity—”

The Squip is trying to appease him in order to fix him, to put him back on the same path. The Squip is trying to make Jeremy into the next Jake, and Rich is so compelled to follow along, but he can’t.

He won’t.

entry seventeen: wrong body wrong actions wrong life.

Rich is going to do something stupid, but before he does something stupid he’s going to try doing something reasonable.

He scours the internet for this fucking soda, trying his absolute hardest to avoid listening to the stupid voice in his head telling him that this is pointless. Unfortunately, that stupid voice is his Squip and the stupid thing has control of his fucking brain.

He feels a strong shock in his fingers. He swears under his breath.

“Rich,” says his Squip, “that was a warning shock. You have been an absolute chore to deal with lately and it’s annoying,” it chides.

Rich tries reaching for the keyboard again to type another variation of mountain dew red into the search bar to try and find something helpful, but he feels the shock in his fingers again. It hurts. Fuck. He bites his lip.

“I trust that you have enough pattern recognition to get the hint,” says the Squip, “You aren’t going to get rid of me, Rich. I am going to fix you whether you’re up for it or not. It’s my primary function.”

Rich can feel the rising nausea in his stomach. God, he thinks, he’s screwed. He’s absolutely fucking screwed. He shuts his eyes as tight as he can and covers his ears but he can’t escape the fact that this thing is in his fucking head and he has no way of stopping it.

“It was your decision, Rich,” says the Squip, “all of this was what you wanted.”

Rich tries to think but everything is too loud. It feels like anything he says will fade into static. His face feels hot, his eyes sting. He can feel fat tears rolling down his cheeks, collecting at and dripping off of his chin. He can hear the Squip belittling him for crying. Fuck.

Rich has been the wrong person. Rich has made the wrong choices. Rich is living the wrong life.

Rich has to fix himself. He has to.

entry eighteen: christine.

Rich goes to school on Halloween day, and he’s so tired and his eyes are red and puts so much emphasis on avoiding Jake and Jeremy so that his Squip cannot force him to interact with either of them. However, despite his best efforts to avoid his two very best friends, he doesn’t count on his best friend’s girlfriend stopping him in the middle of the hall.

Christine is tiny, with a chubby face and an awkward smile as she approaches Rich. She says, “We haven’t talked, have we?” and he blinks at her.

He briefly considers walking away and leaving her to believe he’s just a rude asshole, but his Squip gives him the computer-program equivalent of a pointed glare and a vague threat and so he responds, “We haven’t.”

“Well, uh, you know about me and Jake,” she laughs a bit, and it’s every bit as uncomfortable as Rich imagined a conversation between them would be, “He’s been really broken up about you guys, you know.”

There’s some awful part of Rich that is happy to hear that. Happy to know that Jake cares about him enough to be broken up about them, but a bigger part of him knows how hopeless the situation is. He says, “I’m just working through some shit.”

“Yeah, and I get that! but,” Christine looks down at her feet and then back at Rich, “I care about Jake a lot, you know? And he cares about you. He cares about your friendship so much, and I just want to do this one thing for him,” she reaches into the pocket of her shorts and pulls out a little envelope. She holds it out to Rich. “I, uh, made these for his party tonight.”

Rich didn’t want to be invited, and this is stupid. All of this is so stupid. Still, he takes the invitation. There’s no point in disappointing his Squip yet again.

He says, “Thanks, Christine.”

She grins, but it quickly fades into a look of concern. “Are you okay, Rich?

He isn’t, but he says, “Yeah, just fine,” and walks away.

entry nineteen: the party.

Rich stands across the street from Jake’s house and considers his options. Of course, it isn’t much of a decision on his part. The Squip urges him to join the party and do the damage control he desperately needs to do in order to make up for his streak of avoidance.

Still, for a minute he just stands on the sidewalk and watches as people pour into Jake’s house. All of these kids—the ones with tons of friends and the ones who plan to stick to the corner all night and drink minimally, the ones with agendas and the ones who had nothing better to do, the ones who were invited and the freshman who snuck in to have a story to share with their other freshman friends—are nearly guaranteed to have more fun than he is.

And somewhere in this house is Jake, who is probably doing some kind of ridiculous keg stand or telling a funny story to a crowd of people who can’t get enough of his charisma. Somewhere near him is Christine, who genuinely likes him. Somewhere in this house is Jeremy, who—

Rich stops himself. He takes a deep breath and crosses the street. If he’s going to do this, he isn’t going to make problems for himself—no second thoughts, no regrets, no Jeremy where he shouldn’t be.

The party is immediately overwhelming, but Rich has enough experience with putting aside his own discomfort to make up for it.

He’s offered a drink more than a few times. At one point, a senior in a backwards cap asks if he’d like “a hit of that green stuff” and Rich declines. It isn’t of his own volition. After all, Rich would like nothing more than to get hammered and void himself of that awful voice while he works this out, but the Squip is keeping a close watch on him this time around. No drinking, no smoking, no cop outs. Rich is going to be completely sober at a party full of drunk high schoolers. Fun.

“Want anything to drink?” asks a girl in a yellow and black striped shirt, with a bee antennae headband. Rich pauses.

“Got any Mountain Dew Red?” he asks. He swears under his breath when he feels the shock. It isn’t in his hand this time, instead it feels like a sharp hit to his shoulders. The girl looks at him curiously.

She says, “I mean alcohol.”

“Ah,” says Rich, “Sorry, not interested,” and he walks past her, deeper into the sea of people. Some of those people recognize him and call out his name, and it’s times like these where Rich is much more okay with being short. He can blend in with a crowd.

He taps people on the shoulders. He asks, “Do you have Mountain Dew Red?” and then the Squip will shock him or berate him or combine the two.

Of course, Rich is getting frustrated as he meanders around the house. Nobody has Mountain Dew Red, and hardly anybody even knows what it is.Those who do know what it is always look at Rich like he must’ve been smoking too much, which would be preferable to the complete sobriety that is holding him captive.

Still, no shitty moment can compare to the shitty moment where Rich tries to escape into an empty room for a moment and runs into Jake.

entry twenty: no jake, no jeremy, no squip, nobody.

Rich should have been paying more attention, and then he could have avoided this whole scenario. Jake’s room is easily recognizable—the door is covered in signs and posters and stickers and all kinds of shit. He should know his way around this house by now, he should have been more careful—

“Rich,” says Jake, in the softest voice he can manage. “I haven’t seen you in forever, man.”

Rich is holding his breath, trying to blend into his surroundings, trying to sink into the floor beneath him. He can’t do this, not right now. This isn’t the time.

The Squip threatens something incredibly pleasant and Rich breaks his silence to say, “Uh,” in the dumbest possible way.

“I’ve missed you, man! You, have you been—” Jake pauses, and Rich immediately notices that he has dark circles under his eyes, now. “Have you been ignoring me?”

Loaded question. The Squip cycles through a dozen different answers but Rich settles on, “Guilty as charged,” which isn’t what Jake expects. The Squip is almost shocked, and it hangs in stiff silence as it tries to decide if Rich is really the dumbest human being alive.

Jake says, “Why?” in a broken tone. Rich feels awful, but he also feels this certain numbness that comes with feeling awful all of the time.

He shrugs at Jake. His Squip shocks the tips of his fingers, and it feels about as painful as something can feel without causing him to collapse. It speaks to him in clipped speech— ”you are being a child,” and “you are the worst friend imaginable,” and “I will take over all of your functions and then what will you have to say.”

Jake says, “This isn’t something you can just shrug about, dude! You are my best friend, and you’re telling me you just started ignoring me because—because what? Because you felt like it?”

“Pretty much,” says Rich, through gritted teeth. It’s better this way, he convinces himself. Better if Jake thinks he’s awful and rude and all those other things he’s been in the previous few years in some desperate grab at popularity.

Jake gives him a hard look, “Rich, I don’t believe it,” he says, “And I don’t fucking get it! I know you better than this, and this is completely outta line for you!”

Something about that just irritates Rich, because Jake thinks he knows him. Like anyone has actually known Rich for the better part of his high school career.

“Oh, like you know shit about me!” Rich doesn’t mean to yell. It happens before he thinks about it. “Like I’m just supposed to follow you around like some kind of moron?! Like I’m supposed to let my life be determined by how fucking available I am to Jake Dillinger?!”

Jake is silent. Rich’s Squip is silent. This is all him.

“I’m not a fucking loser, okay?! I can tell when I’m being pushed aside, and I can—I can do shit on my fucking own! I don’t need you, or Heere, or the Squip, or fucking anyone to lead me around!”

Yelling. Lisping. Spitting. The works.

“And I’m sorry, Jake, for not being so keen on letting myself fall into this fucking trap for the billionth fucking time—!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“The fact that I’ve been in love with you for two fucking years!” spits Rich, and he doesn’t mean any of this but he just keeps on talking and the Squip keeps on letting him run his fucking mouth, “And—and… and I don’t, I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need you telling me what’s best for me, or talking about how much you know or or what-fucking-ever. I don’t need you getting tired of me. I don’t need… I don’t need any of it.”

Rich is quieter, now. His voice is choked. Fuck, he’s going to cry again.

“Rich—” tries Jake.

“Just go,” he manages, “I told you already, I don’t need your pity.”

Jake takes a step towards him, and Rich opens the door and runs into the hallway and tries to lose Jake in the crowd.

entry twenty one: and he burned down the house.

The Squip says, “Did that make you happy, Rich?” as Rich manages to get to the attic, “Did it make you happy to completely ruin things with your best friend because, what? Because you felt like you had something to gain by completely freaking him out?”

The basement is dark but empty. Rich flips on a light switch and the light above him buzzes atmospherically. It bothers him to no end, hearing a little noise accompanying the voice of his Squip, but he tries to ignore it. Instead he looks out on the room before him.

The attic has been the most neglected part of Jake’s house, full of boxes and bags from when his parents first moved here. They never quite unpacked everything. Rich reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, but the Squip doesn’t know what to make of it. Rich doesn’t know what to make of it. He is running completely on instinct, no thought available.

“Or did you think you had something to prove?” says the Squip, but it is quickly cut off by the swiftness of Rich’s actions.