Summary: Jeremy searches for his friend, but it seems the universe has other plans for him. Mostly involving some dickwad named Will. Damn it, Will.


Jeremy makes it a few yards before he realizes he only has one shoe on. He must've lost the other one back when he was talking to Michael in Rich's car, which means… the shoe is pretty much gone forever. He won't be getting it back in this lifetime. To make both of his feet feel even, he takes off his other shoe and attempts to shove it in his pants pocket. It doesn't fit in the slightest. Damn skinny jeans. Instead, he just holds the frozen pizza box horizontally and places the shoe on top. Jeremy's phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks his lock screen. An Instagram notification. If Michael isn't calling him, he doesn't care. Jeremy places the phone back in his pocket.

In order to find Michael, he needs to think like him. If Jeremy was a slightly hipster-ish stoner with an affinity for vintage music, a lowkey 80s aesthetic, and probably more-than-slightly poisonous soft drinks, where would he go to mope? There aren't any record stores nearby, nor any comic book/video game combo stores… There isn't even a single Spencer's gifts for miles around! Jeremy decides to lower his standards to contain any of the open stores in the strip mall. From what he can tell, he has four choices; an off-brand Walmart-ish discount store, an adult superstore, a rather well-lit Five Below, and a quaint little café on the end of the row.

Jeremy mentally crosses the second one off of the list. This isn't that kind of story. Also, either of them even going in there would probably break some sort of obscure law about exposing minors to less-than-unholy things. Even if either of them wanted to laugh at the ever-eccentric candy nipple tassels or the slightly horrifying animal themed ball-gags of the adult world, they would only have to go as far as their local mall's Spencer's gifts to find all that and more. Jeremy isn't entirely sure if that store is marketed towards self-proclaimed 'mature' teenagers or terribly immature adults. Hell, maybe the entire store is just a front for them to sell weird sex things to college students. Or maybe that's a front in order for them to sell decade-old soda to teenagers at exorbitant prices. Because, you know, the average Spencer's would totally sell soda of all things out of their back room to any kid who asked politely. Either way, Michael, along with most sane people, wouldn't have gone to the adult superstore to mope.

As for the other stores, it could be any one of the three. Jeremy decides to start at the store nearest to him and make his way down the row until he reaches the café. The first store along the line is the knock-off Walmart. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself to ask the employees if they've seen his friend, Jeremy slowly paces into the store. His phone buzzes again. The teen quickly checks it as he walks towards the building. This time, it's a Twitter notification. Jeremy hastily shoves the phone back in his pocket.

As soon as the teen sets foot in the store, he's greeted with multiple faces displaying varying degrees of shock.

"Oh my god! Should we call the police, or something?" One of the cashiers whispers to another, her eyes trailing Jeremy as he enters. The second cashier says nothing, his mouth agape in a semi-confused terror.

Jeremy brings a hand up to his face. It comes back coated in thick streaks of crimson. Oh, right. He's bleeding. That's a thing that's happening. And he has no shoes. He probably looks seriously fucked up right now. Jeremy kind of forgot about it, to be honest. Sure, it hurts and all, but he sort of got distracted with the pizza, then finding Michael, and the adult superstore… his face wound seriously took a back seat to all that. The teen clears his throat and turns to the cashiers.

"I- um, I need to wash up. Is there a bathroom here, or…?" His voice trails off.

"Oh! Yeah, in the back." The first cashier answers, still unsure whether to involve the law in all this. A drop of blood splashes to the floor. The second cashier brings a hand to his mouth, his face draining of all color.

"I think I'm going to be sick." He looks away from Jeremy. He wishes he had paid more attention to the 'dressing wounds' lectures when he was a Boy Scout, but he had always passed out before the troop leader could give him any useful information.

His coworker is less than impressed. "You have a girlfriend, Josh. You should be used to a little bit of blood by now."

"You know we're waiting until marriage! I'm taking my break. You deal with this, Tina." Josh throws up his hands in exasperation and speed walks to an unmarked door on the leftmost side of the store.

Tina sighs and steps out from behind the cash register. Since no other customers are in the store, she figures she might as well help this Carrie-looking kid before he smears blood all over everything. She would assume that he'd just been jumped, but for some reason he has a slightly wet looking frozen pizza. It seems unlikely that an attacker would go through all the trouble of beating someone up without taking all their possessions. Unless they were vegan. Maybe she should file a police report for a vegan mugger targeting young teens who want nothing more than a bite to eat. It's all starting to make sense!

Jeremy walks a few steps ahead of Tina, hoping to clean the blood and asphalt off of his face before his face ends up looking like a Scream mask. Within a few seconds he reaches the back of the store, only to be greeted by a rather greasy-looking stockboy. Surprisingly, he seems unfazed by Jeremy's general bloodiness and dishevelment.

"The bathrooms are closed for cleaning, nya. You'll have to-"

Tina swoops in ahead of Jeremy, her eyes blazing with rage. She points an accusing finger at her coworker, her other hand placed firmly on her hip in a tight fist. "Are you seriously pulling this shit again, Will?"

The stockboy's eyes widen, and he awkwardly tugs on his collar. "I, um, don't know what you mean."

"I know you let your friends in through the back entrance so they can get high in the bathrooms. You're not exactly subtle about it." She crosses her arms. Jeremy can tell from her tone that this isn't the first time they've argued at work. He doesn't have a horse in this race, so he just stands back and watches everything unfold.

"It's not illegal! Gasoline is completely, 100% legal to purchase-" Will shrinks back, like a dog caught chewing its owner's shoes.

"You're not supposed to huff it, you freaking junkie!" Tina looks ready to start throwing punches, but she holds herself back, just barely.

Okay, this is getting a bit too much like a soap opera for Jeremy's liking. He turns towards the exit and takes a few steps away from the arguing pair. "Maybe I should just go…"

"Don't! I'll let you use the employee bathroom. Just to keep you away from this… ugliness. Follow me. And Will, your friends better be outside in the next five minutes or your 'hidden' comic book collection is going straight down the shitter." Tina paces towards the front of the store, and Jeremy timidly tags along, taking one last look over his shoulder at the stockboy. He appears to be holding a mop as one would a sword, the wooden end held vertically in front of his face at arm's length. Jeremy shifts his focus back to following Tina.

Will stares down at his feet and mumbles quietly to himself. "It's called manga."

Jeremy follows the cashier to the side door he had seen Josh go through earlier. The room appears to be some sort of makeshift employee lounge, complete with plastic, near-broken chairs and red solo cups by an empty water cooler. Josh sits in a chair on the far side of the room, his face nearly back to its normal color. Tina puts herself between Josh and Jeremy in order to block the former's view. Josh looks up at Tina, realizes what's going on, and angrily huffs before going back to a Sudoku puzzle he was working on.

The employee bathroom is surprisingly clean, and Jeremy makes quick work of cleaning the blood and rock from his face. After all is said and done, he looks as good as is possible for a teen with terrible face injuries, no shoes, and a slight marijuana-induced high. As he's about to exit, his phone buzzes. It's a Facebook notification. Jeremy doesn't even have Facebook. With a sigh, he places his phone back in his pocket, not bothering to question the logic of it all.

In order to feel less awkward about his barely-clothed feet, he buys some blue 2 dollar flip flops and slides them on after removing his socks. The plastic is hard and uncomfortable against the bottoms of his feet, but it gets the job done. The teen decides to keep his remaining shoe and socks, though, just because dumping them would be wasteful. The socks fit in his back pocket, but the shoe remains on top of the pizza box. Jeremy thanks Tina for her help, shoots an annoyed glare in Will's general direction, and continues on his journey to find Michael.

One down, two to go. Jeremy makes a beeline for the second store in the row, Five Below. The second he steps inside, he's greeted by a frazzled looking young adult in a sweaty work apron and a messy bun.

"What happened to yo- oh, nevermind it! Just, please, please don't sit on or in any merchandise." She brushes a hand across her forehead to wipe away any sweat, then she wipes that onto her apron. Yuck.

Jeremy instantly has the urge to sit on or in all merchandise within eyesight. "So, um, what would happen if I did… do that?"

The girl murmurs quietly to herself and begins walking in the other direction, continuously wiping her hands on her apron. "My manager is going to kill me… Why'd she make me lock up tonight? I can't even hold a basic job for two weeks…"

Disregarding that, Jeremy gets back to the task at hand. He takes a quick look around the store. Other than the one employee, the place looks to be completely empty. The teen hurriedly tiptoes to the back of the store, deciding to make one quick check before leaving. After spending a minute or so looking through probably-not-fair-trade electronics and less than long-lasting home gym equipment, Jeremy is about to make a break for it. Under different circumstances, some of the products would be useful, if not for anything but a good laugh. He eyes the Five Nights At Freddy's mystery boxes which are shelved precariously next to rows upon rows of pop-culture graphic tees. One of them brazenly displays a kitten riding a taco against a galaxy background. All things he would've loved non-ironically five years ago. They're all perfect gag gifts; timeless in their cringe-worthiness, yet still adored by a select few. During his search, Jeremy's phone buzzes. He ignores it and places the pizza box and his shoe on a shelf near the front of the store for safekeeping.

Despite all the amazing ironic potential, Jeremy can't help but feel a slight aversion to it all. Maybe it's the store's eerie silence or the fact that it isn't filled with rambunctious preteens as per usual, but something about the store feels… off. It's as if the one dollar technicolor phone cases and cheap makeup kits are watching his every move. Everything in the store is far too cheerful and colorful for its own good. This could be the weed or his exhaustion talking, but Jeremy thinks the whole store falls deep into the uncanny valley. Maybe the bright colors are only there to cover up some sort of sinister secret. Maybe he's in some sort of Twilight Zone episode where all the happy, bubbly products are cursed to draw victims in, like moth to a flame, until the hapless consumer becomes part of the displays themselves. Sure, it's cliché, but it could happen, right? At the very least, Jeremy thinks something suspicious is going on. The entire store seems to be stuck in 2010. Hell, even the bin of discount emoji pillows appears to be… breathing? Yet again, his phone buzzes. Jeremy ignores it.

Determined to fulfill his destiny as the white boy in every horror movie, Jeremy walks over to the pillow bin with reckless abandon. The pillows quiver and shake to a slight degree. A cry-laughing emoji falls at just the right angle so that it's looking right at him. Or, you know, it would be, if the eyes were open. The tall teen takes a step back, intimidated. Without turning his back to the bin (for his own safety) he awkwardly makes his way towards the store's front entrance. There's obviously some witchcraft bullshit going on here, and he has no plans to be a part of it. Before he can exit, however, the solitary employee blocks his path. Jeremy backs into her, letting out a yelp of surprise, and promptly trips over himself into a display of 'quirky' posters and metal wall hangings. The building is filled with deafening clangs and the clattering of metal and paper as they collide with the floor below. One reading "KEEP OUT: GAMER AT PLAY" smacks Jeremy square in the face. Jeremy's phone buzzes three times in rapid succession.

The pillow pile shifts again, this time with more gusto. Fuuuuuuck.

The worker steps back in shock, then, after taking in the situation, gets on her knees to begin picking up the posters and wall hangings. She gripes to herself, not even bothering to lower her voice this time. "Just perfect! All this mess to clean and ten minutes until closing time. Wow, Sarah, what a great way to spend your evenings! I'm so glad I got that liberal arts degree!" After shoving a few of the products into their respective spaces, she turns to a still-dazed Jeremy. "You. I saw you over there. If he put you up to this… you can just leave this store and never come back!"

As tempting as that sounds, Jeremy tries to defend himself. "Hm? Wh- who? I don't talk to the devil! I mean, I don't think I did, did I?" That went about as smoothly as he expected. What is he being accused of, exactly? Did he accidentally summon a demon? Maybe this store is built on an ancient Indian burial ground.

Sarah is just as befuddled. "The devil? I mean, he's being rude, but I wouldn't call him a devil." Seeing the look of sincere confusion on Jeremy's face, her wrath subsides. "The boy hiding in the home décor section? In the pillow display, to be exact. He didn't ask you to do this?"

Hmmm. Michael does have a thing for stowing away in enclosed spaces when he's upset. It's an oddly specific thing to do, but everyone has their quirks. Some people punch walls or count down from ten, but for others it's a bit more complicated than that. Jeremy, for example, prefers to blast Linkin Park on full blast to calm down, simply because the music is so edgy he can't help but feel calm in comparison. Like a Taming of the Shrew for angsty teenagers. Back to the task at hand, the teen pulls himself to his feet and turns to the worker. "Um… no. But, actually, I think I can help you out. Just leave everything to me and I'll get him out of here, no problem." His phone vibrates wildly in his pocket.

The relief is visible on the employee's face. "Oh, thank God. Please be quick, though! I'm supposed to close before 2 AM."

A nearby wall clock tells Jeremy that he has roughly fifteen minutes to do this. That should be more than enough time. Hopefully. After everything that's happened tonight, Jeremy isn't really sure what to expect. He seriously thought demons were coming to get him just a minute ago. The tall teen walks over to the bin of emoji pillows, pausing along the way to grab and slip on a poop emoji mask.

"Michaelll."

"Ugh." A quiet voice murmurs from behind layers of polyester fabric and fluff. "Just go away."

Jeremy stands firmly in place. "I'm not leaving without you, buddy."

"Go home, Jeremy. I just want to be alone." The pillow pile shifts. It seems as if Michael is burying himself further in the mountain of pillows.

Jeremy takes a step closer to the bin. He isn't going to force Michael out of the pillow pile, partly because that wouldn't make him feel better and partly because he doesn't want to put his hands anywhere near the emoji pillows. "I'm seriously not leaving. Not until you come out and say it to my face."

Michael just sounds… tired. Completely and utterly exhausted. "I won't-"

"Come up and say 'I don't want to talk to you, Jeremy,' to my face. Right here. One on one. No hiding or distractions or changing the subject. Say it to me."

The shorter teen groans. His voice reaches the exhaustion levels of a pre-med student studying for midterms. "Jeremy…"

"I'm not moving until you do. You can't stay in there forever, you know. I mean, I guess you could, but you would probably starve or get dehydrated, unless you went all Bear Grylls and drank your own-"

"Alright, I'm up. What do you want?" Michael pops his head up between a heart-eyes and a '100' emoji pillow. His eyes are red and puffy, and his glasses are nowhere in sight. He blinks for a second, his eyes adjusting to the light, before it dawns on him. He stares at the soulless, shitty, emoji mask for a moment, then bursts into peals of laughter. He continues laughing for an obscene amount of time. After about thirty seconds, Jeremy tries to begin an on-the-fly monologue.

"Look, I'll be honest. I've been a real shithead tonight, and I'm sorry."

Michael wheezes with laughter for a second, then clears his throat to talk. "Was all this a setup for that one joke?"

A lifetime of listening to shitty Dad jokes has prepared Jeremy for this moment. "I have more. I know I've made you pretty emojinal, so-"

"Oh my God, Jer." He rubs his eyes, still giggling to himself.

Jeremy seems proud of himself. "I don't want you to have to mask your emotions anymore. There are so many cons to patronizing yourself. Is this translating well? It's a pun on-"

"Constipated. Got it. Are you done yet?" Michael secretly hopes he won't be done. Ever. This is too good.

"Almost. As crappy as this situation seems, you shouldn't flush your hopes down the drain just yet." The taller teen can't keep himself from giggling as well. Michael's laugh is pretty infectious.

"And why is that? Are we finally graduating from second grade humor?" Michael sits up in the pillow pile, pulling his upper body out of the mess.

Jeremy shakes his head. "Not a chance. I have something much better."

"Better than a tirade of toilet humor? Gee, what could possibly be better than that?"

"See for yourself." Jeremy takes out his phone, which has been buzzing pretty consistently for the past few minutes. His lockscreen displays a myriad of notifications from various social media websites, all containing messages from various peers all either calling him one of many slurs or questioning his interaction with Rich. None of the messages are nice, but none of the messages involve Michael.

The shorter teen grabs the phone and watches the notifications pour in, a look of pure amazement on his face, although not completely in a good way. "Holy shit! What did you say to him?" After a moment he adds, "Our highschool fucking sucks. Wow." Jeremy nods in agreement as Michael furrows his eyebrows. Teenagers can be mean. It's best not to think about it too much, or he'll get sad again. "I mean, you must've sold your soul to get this sort of response."

Jeremy rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I, um, propositioned him."

Michael's eyes widen in surprise. "You what? Jeremy, there's no way you're going to live this one down. Rich isn't going to let you forget about this. Nobody will."

But the taller teen isn't convinced. "Has your phone gone off at all tonight? Any notifications from anyone on any website?"

Michael shrugs and quickly checks his phone. "Well, one of those spam accounts followed my Instagram, but that's about it."

Jeremy takes his phone back from Michael. "Exactly. You're home free. Nobody knows anything."

"But Rich- he heard-"

"I think I managed to convince him otherwise. I told him you were bisexual, but I'm not sure how much of it he believed. I mean, it looks like it worked well enough."

That might come back to bite Michael later. It's much better than the alternative, though, as morally grey as the area is. "What about you? I can't just stand by and watch everyone at school treat you like shit for the next three years."

Jeremy seems pretty sure of himself. "I'll survive. I mean, once I get Christine, it'll make Rich look like a liar, right?"

"Right..." Jeremy actually getting together with Christine seems… unlikely, to say the least. But it could happen. Just like how elves could be alive and controlling the innermost levels of our traffic system. There's nothing proving it wrong. Technically.

Jeremy takes off his mask. It was getting pretty hot under there. Seeing the slightly bloody scratches and bruises, Michael reels back.

"Dude, what happened to your face?"

Again, Jeremy had forgotten about his wounds. Maybe it would be best if Michael didn't get all the details. It would just cause him to worry, and that's the last thing either of them need right now. "Oh, this? I- um… tripped. Coming out of the car."

Michael can see straight through Jeremy's lie. It isn't that difficult, and Jeremy isn't that good at lying, especially while high. "You don't have to lie to me. Did Rich do this because he thought… you were gay?" Sure, Rich is a notorious bully, but this could be… dangerous, to say the least.

The taller teen stares down at the floor, slightly embarrassed. "I mean, kind of. He really lost it after I offered to give him a handjob."

Michael makes a sound like a kettle of boiling water. "Did he-" He chokes on his laughter. "Did he say yes?"

Jeremy can't help but laugh in spite of himself. He giggles, snorts, and continues talking. "Like, nearly, dude. He was super into it. Until he threw me to the ground and kicked me in the ribs."

The shorter teen has a solemn look of surprise on his face all of the sudden. "Woah, woah, woah. That's serious stuff, Jer. You could go to the police with that."

Jeremy brushes him off. "I'm probably a bit too stoned to talk to the cops."

"That's true, but you really shouldn't let Rich treat you like that. All jokes aside, it's not okay." Michael is fairly certain most of the shit Rich pulled tonight could be classified as assault. And possibly a hate crime.

Yet again, Jeremy brushes him off. "I know. I just don't want to start anything. I'll survive."

Michael gives Jeremy a worried look and drags himself out of emoji hell. He can tell he isnt' going to change Jeremy's mind. "Well, I guess we should get going home." He then realizes that their ride stranded them, among other things. "So… about that…"

"Let me just call an Uber." Jeremy pulls out his phone.

"You could've called an Uber this entire time?"

"Nah, I don't have the app. Can you imagine, though?"

"Jesus, don't play me like that."

Jeremy snickers and throws an arm around Michael's shoulder. Michael takes a step towards the store's entrance, then stops himself.

"Before we head out, I have something I should tell you."

Jeremy almost trips as Michael steps away, but he catches himself. "I doubt anything else could shock me, but go ahead."

Michael has a look of complete seriousness on his face. "Well, while I was in the pillow stack, I was kind of looking really closely at the wee-" He looks towards the front of the store. The employee is pretending to be restocking an already-full aisle. Almost ashamed, he stares down at his feet. "Um, stuff and I found out… it was actually oregano."

"Like the herb? No, dude. You're not serious. This whole time? No." Jeremy runs a hand through his hair, trying to take it all in. He really dropped the ball on this one.

Michael sighs and looks away. He fidgets with his sweatshirt sleeves. "I guess I got the bags mixed up. So everything you felt was just a placebo."

Jeremy has a look on his face like he just found out his IKEA meatballs were made of horse meat. "Oh my god, dude. I ate an entire bag of chips in ten minutes. I got multiple girls banned from the grocery store by lying about them. I told Rich I would give him a handjob. That was all… just me?"

Michael's face breaks out into a broad smile. "Nah, dude, I'm totally fucking with you. It was all the real deal."

"Michael."

"Or was it?"

"Please!"

Michael bursts into a fit of laughter. The store employee gives the two of them an annoyed look. Jeremy, solidly confused, now looks like his meatballs were made of pelican meat.

"It was real, calm down. Can you imagine, though? But, ah, it looks like we have quite a bit of walking to do." The shorter teen snickers and pats Jeremy on the shoulder, partially to keep himself from doubling over in laughter.

The relief hits Jeremy like a truck. Full of mattresses. Payback's a bitch, huh? "We might want to get started on that soon. Although, there is a café a few doors down we can stop by first if you're up for it. I'll pay. You deserve some sort of treat after everything tonight."

"I thought you only had five dollars." The shorter teen crosses his arms. He tries to sound serious, but he's still a bit giggly.

Jeremy can't keep himself from cracking a smile. "That was a lie. I just didn't want to pay for the booze and chips."

"I don't know why I put up with you." Michael gives Jeremy a light slug in the arm.

That kind of hurt. Or maybe his arm is just a bit bruised from when he was shoved out of Rich's car. "Not even I can answer that. You down for some coffee?"

"Make that a tea and I'm in." Michael would kill for some cinnamon tea right about now. Or maybe an Earl Gray. Or mint! Maybe a nice English Breakfast… everything sounds delicious.

Jeremy seems just as excited, but he just wants some more snacks to wolf down before the walk home. "You drive a hard bargain. I think I'll let you get some… as long as you give me a hug before we go."

"You're so cheesy, Jer." Michael wraps his arms around Jeremy and gives him a tight squeeze. Jeremy returns the awkward friend hug with slightly less force. It feels great to have his best friend back, even if he only lost him for an hour or so. Jeremy savors the hug for another moment, then kind of dozes off for a second. The store's broken AC and Michael's sweatshirt made him feel pretty warm, and it is far past when he usually goes to sleep. After blinking himself awake, Jeremy remembers where he is and goes in for another hug. Michael is happy to oblige.

The two head for the front door of the store, both in far better spirits than when they arrived. Just before they take their first step out of the store, Jeremy's phone buzzes four times in rapid succession. He's about to ignore it, but he remembers that he had set his text notification to buzz differently than all of his other apps, so he would be able to recognize it. Nobody from school should have his number, aside from Michael and a few others.

Jeremy pulls out his phone to reveal a paragraph of exclamation marks and a long-winded explanation of something or other full of run on sentences that the teen can't be bothered to read until he looks up and realizes the text was sent by Christine Canigula. Jeremy can't keep himself from shaking with excitement for long enough to read the text in its entirety, but he can make out the gist of it.

"Hey! I didnt know you were into theater but I totally understand the last minute panic haha

If you want some pointers you could come to one of the drama club meetings in the auditorium

We always meet after school on Mondays and Wednesdays and I know a few people who would be glad to help you out! Were always looking for new members too! Itd be great to see you there!"

The text then spends several paragraphs asking about the length, time period, emotional composition, and various other aspects of the scene Jeremy is supposed to be auditioning with. He gets a few glimpses of 'insomnia' and 'cant sleep' among the theater talk, but he can't devote any thought to that if he wants to try and understand the rest of the message. The text is riddled with theater phrases Jeremy doesn't know the meaning of. What the hell is a sonnet, exactly? Or an aside? If you know what the fourth wall is, comment down below.

Jeremy knows nothing about theater. Jeremy is completely boned. But he made progress, and that's what matters.

"What'cha looking at? Another Game of Thrones leak?" Michael comes up behind him, looking over his shoulder at the phone. "Or is the social media stuff starting to get to you? Whatever they're saying, just don't even think about it."

Still jittery, Jeremy holds his phone out to Michael. After taking it and skimming through the text, Michael gives his friend a hearty pat on the back. "Hey! That's great! I mean, I didn't really expect you to get this far. Now you have to either extend the lie further or blow her off completely."

No matter what Jeremy does, he'll probably end up being hated by Christine. But if he keeps lying, Christine would hate him later. And later isn't right now, so that's all that Jeremy cares about. "The first one, definitely. What do you know about theater?"

"I know of it. As in, it exists. That's about it, though." Michael could never perform in front of an audience. There's too much room for error there. Even doing presentations in class is enough to give him sweaty palms and an upset stomach.

The taller teen completely disables the filter between his brain and mouth. "Aren't gay guys supposed to-"

"If you value our friendship and your phone, which- might I mention- is still in my hands, you won't finish that sentence." Michael makes a show of holding the phone high above his head, enough that a drop from that height would completely shatter the phone.

Jeremy huffs and crosses his arms. "I'm the only one who's allowed to throw my phone on the ground. It's like, my trademark now."

"Let's keep it that way. And, hey, Shakespeare is supposed to be popular, right? Since they force everyone to read it in English class, you know? Find a Romeo and Juliet scene to perform for her. It's romantic, or something." After hesitating for a second, the shorter teen hands Jeremy his phone, safe and sound.

Jeremy pockets it. He'll have to think of a more coherent plan while sober. "Nothing says 'true love' quite like killing yourself for a guy you've known for less than a week."

"Is that Romeo and Juliet or The Bachelor?" Michael is pretty proud of himself for that subpar reference.

Jeremy's eyes widen. "Wait, shit, is that what the show is all about?"

Michael takes a deep breath. Here we go. "Probably. I never really got into those kinds of shows. There was one, though, where some random dude just so happens to look like Prince Harry and a harem of women all have to fight for his affection while going on expensive dates with him at some lavish English castle. And all the girls thought they were getting the chance to marry a prince, but he turns out to be completely broke in the end. It's like Aladdin, but with less magic and more dream-crushing reality."

Jeremy slams both hands on Michael's shoulders. He has a fire in his eyes, parallel to that of a medieval knight avenging the murder of his family. "Oh my God, dude. Clear your schedule. I know what we're doing for the rest of the night."

The shorter teen smiles. "Sounds great! But we might want to get moving soon. That girl is starting to give us some serious side-eye."

After Jeremy quickly grabs the pizza and his one shoe, the two make their way out of the store into the cool night air. It's a bit chilly, but neither of them notice, mostly due to either their clothing or the fact that they're still too high to notice. Through the wispy clouds above, they can just make out the subtle twinkling of stars against the night sky. It mystifies the pair for a moment; knowing they're both so tiny in an infinitely expanding universe. It's almost sobering. Jeremy gazes too far up and almost loses his balance, and then he turns to Michael.

"All in all, tonight wasn't so bad."

Michael doesn't break his gaze towards the sky, his eyebrows furrowed. "No, it was kind of terrible. We both got pummeled by Rich, I nearly got outed to the entire school, you'll probably never hear the end of it from all the uber-masculine jocks… and all of it was over a pizza."

Jeremy falls silent for a moment. Sure, sometimes life can be shit, but he can't just resign himself to that. "Yeah, but I got to spend the night with you. I mean, mostly. You kind of lost me for a while there. But I think we kind of got closer as friends, you know? I mean, think about it. We went into this expecting to just get high and play video games for a while, and look at us now!"

The shorter teen crosses his arms. He sounds a bit more solemn now. "We're both bloody and bruised, if that's what you mean. And out of $60."

"Michael, look. You're probably my favorite person on this planet. On any planet. Even if we get pushed around or mocked or made fun of, at least we'll always be here for each other. And, maybe, we'll be stronger because of it." Jeremy looks over at Michael. It's difficult to be completely sure, but Jeremy is almost certain his gaze is softer.

And as the two stare up at the stars, Jeremy can't help but feel almost peaceful. Despite everything that had tried to bring him down throughout the night, Michael was always there to bring him up, and Jeremy had helped bring Michael up, too. Maybe tonight was about more than getting high and having goofy adventures around town.

Even if the night had its faults, he almost wishes it could last longer.

"You know, it's like Bob Marley always said. Don't worry about a thing…"

"Are you seriously trying to make Bob Marley lyrics sound deep and existential?" Michael looks at Jeremy for a moment, sees the passion in his eyes, and decides to stop giving a shit. "'Cause every little thing…"

"…Is gonna be all right." They're both terribly off key and Jeremy finishes about a half-second after Michael, but they couldn't care less.

The starts almost seem to be smiling above them.

"Hey Michael?"

"Yeah, Jer?"

"Can we promise to never turn our backs on each other? These next few weeks might be… difficult."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"So it's a promise?"

"Promise."


To everyone who made it this far, thank you for reading.

It's been quite the journey, and I hope everyone else had as much fun with this as I did. Unfortunately, I just started college, so I'm not sure how much free time I'll have to write any more stories (especially anything longer than one chapter), but you never know. We'll just have to wait and see.

Have a good one, guys.

-A