the disappearance
"It's so hot out... Are you sure we can't just drive there?"
"For the last time, my car is out of gas and I can't get any more until my next paycheck," Mike repeated to Fritz, who had been complaining since before they even left the school. "So, unless Ophelia or Vincent want to drive, we're walking."
It wasn't like this was a new scenario. Fritz hadn't been completely satisfied with anything in his life for a short while now.
After all, Jeremy had been missing for a week.
That was just when he was declared to be missing, though. He had missed the full week of school leading up to the news, as well. As Jeremy was a friend of Fritz, Mike, and Ophelia, the three only found it right that they try to track him down, too. Well, really, Mike made the executive decision.
What about Vincent? Well, let's just say Ophelia was pretty persuasive.
"But I'll be lonely without you. It's pretty dangerous out there, after all..." She fluttered her eyelashes, habitually twirling a long strand of brown hair between her fingers.
"Oh, well, in that case..." Vincent took the strand of hair from Ophelia's fingers, gently brushing it behind her ear. "I guess I have no choice. I've got to look after my princess, after all."
Even days after that encounter, though, Ophelia couldn't stop thinking about Vincent's reply. Of course, the part where Vincent had agreed to help wasn't the problem, but something was...off...about what he said. It was almost uncanny; something felt off whilst everything was in perfect order.
Even then, as they stepped onto the sidewalk, Ophelia thought about it. She readjusted Vincent's leather jacket around her shoulders as she tried to keep up with Mike and Fritz.
"See? It's, like, a hundred degrees out here! How the hell will we walk all the way to the station like this?"
"Fritz, it's literally two blocks away," Mike said, seeming to walk even faster out of spite.
Ophelia watched the two speed ahead of her as always, sighing and looking at the ground as she continued to walk alongside Vincent.
"Hard to keep up with them, huh? I can't believe you've ever been friends with them," Vincent mentioned, slowing his pace to walk beside Ophelia, who faked a small smile and nodded.
"Yeah, they can be...a lot sometimes. Jeremy would always break up their arguments when he was here." She sighed, glancing up at Vincent before continuing to stare at the ground.
"Look, Ellie, we all miss him, but you've got to keep your head up. You've become more distant ever since we started looking for him, and I hate to see you this way..." Vincent stopped on the street corner, gently grazing Ophelia's chin and lifting her face so that Vincent could gaze into those deep chocolate brown eyes.
Just looking into Vincent's iridescent, grey eyes caused Ophelia's heart to flutter, a small smile creeping onto her face.
"By the way," Vincent continued. "Do you want me to take my jacket back? It is really hot outside, after all."
"Oh, really? I haven't noticed," Ophelia replied jokingly, looking down at the black leather jacket and then at the clear blue sky. "If you don't mind, I really like wearing it. It's big, it's warm, it smells like you... I might just keep it." She smirked toward Vincent, who rolled his eyes.
"You'll have to give it back eventually. It is my riding jacket, and it won't do you much good since it's way too big for you."
Ophelia shrugged, continuing to stroll down the path that her other two friends had long passed.
"I guess we'll just have to take long, romantic walks home, then."
"Well," Vincent said. "I guess I can't argue with that."
"So we have that scarf from the lamppost on main street-"
"And we found his class ring outside of the post office-"
"There's also the watch we found on your front lawn, except its wiring's been cut and all the clockwork taken out."
"For god's sake!" Mike flailed his arms to the sides, looking up at the sky before turning to Fritz. "That's not a clue. He dropped it outside my house before he went missing."
"If he just dropped it, how would the insides be all broken? Someone tampered with it, I'm sure."
"It was probably just a squirrel," Mike muttered, crossing his arms before he noticed his other two friends finally catching up to them. "About damn time. What, did you have a make-out session on the way here?"
"Unlike you, Michael, I don't like to sprint everywhere I go. As for her-" Vincent wrapped an arm around Ophelia's shoulders. "-she's got short legs."
"Vince!" Ophelia broke from Vincent's grasp, giving him a few light punches in the shoulder and chest. "Shut up, I do not," she continued, laughing as Vincent pulled her into a short hug. She readjusted the leather jacket on her shoulders.
"Besides, we've never actually been in a relationship. You all just went and assumed shit because we're so close. We're just friends." Vincent pointed accusingly at Mike, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Yeah, friends who ask each other to dances, give each other jewelry-" As Mike continued, Ophelia self-consciously touched her ring, turning it around on her finger. "-and not to mention the constant flirting. You don't even try to hide that."
"It's called being nice to people. You should try it sometime-"
"Hey," Fritz interrupted Mike and Vincent's argument. "As much as I love watching you guys fight over nothing, the police station's right across the street."
"Ah, so it is," Vincent added, smirking at Mike before wrapping his arm around Ophelia's shoulders and starting toward the crosswalk. Mike scoffed before following them, Fritz in tow.
"Well, have either of you found anything?" Mike asked once they all stopped at the street corner.
"I talked to his mom yesterday," Ophelia replied, self-consciously shoving her hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. Once she felt what was inside the pockets, she hesitated before continuing. "She said that, even though no one had seen him for two weeks, his boss never called to ask why he wasn't at work. So maybe we should check around the pizzeria sometime. He might still be going to work."
"Okay, but he works the night shift. How will we catch him?" Fritz crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.
As the traffic light turned to green, they all crossed the empty road.
"We could get there right before he leaves. If we see his bike in the parking lot, we can stand by it and wait for him," Mike answered.
"Oh- I was actually thinking we could get there before he does and wait for him to go inside. Just so we don't have to get up as early." Ophelia shrugged before pushing open the glass doors of the police station. "Either way is fine, really..."
"Alright, how about we meet there on Thursday morning at, say, 5:30?" Mike stopped at the second set of double doors before the other three answered.
"Yeah, I could probably make it," Fritz replied, not really caring which decision they made as long as they found Jeremy.
"I think we could make it, too," Vincent said, sharing a knowing glance with Ophelia, who giggled softly.
"Okay then." Mike and Vincent pulled the second set of double doors open.
"Hello. Whaddaya want?" A bored-looking receptionist greeted them tonelessly from behind a grey desk.
"We've got info on Jeremy Fitzgerald, sixteen." Mike had grown accustomed to adding his age and defining features whenever he would talk to law enforcement. After all, he wasn't the only Jeremy Fitzgerald in town and had no middle name.
"Look, kids, we've closed that case. Your friend's probably long dead. He was kidnapped."
"We're still finding his stuff all over town, though, and he's been going to work. Please, reopen the case. He's still out there-" Mike was quickly cut off my the receptionist.
"Can you prove that any of the stuff is his? Was any of it handmade? Have you seen him going to work? If you can't bring any proof that he's alive, we're assuming he's dead, got it?"
"Wait- wait," Fritz held a hand up, glancing at Mike before stepping up to the desk. "His watch had his name and birthday engraved into it." He dug through his pocket, pushing the pieces of the watch across the counter.
"Oh- What's this?" The receptionist picked up one of the pieces, holding it up to a desk lamp.
"But- Well- It's not-" Mike stammered, nervously gripping the edge of the desk.
"Where did you find this? It must have been broken purposely... This could be enough of a lead to reopen the case. I'll send it to the lab to check for DNA." The receptionist dropped the watch into a plastic bag, sealing the bag and placing it in a manila envelope. "For now, unless you have anything else to show me, get out of my sight. Results should be back in a week."
"Alrighty, thank you!" Fritz waved to the receptionist as he lead the rest of the gang out of the police station.
"Okay, what the hell was that about?" Mike leaned against a street lamp, crossing his arms.
"They're reopening the case! We finally have a good chance of finding him, between your plan and that watch-"
"Okay, yeah, but once they find there's nothing abnormal about that watch, we're done for. They'll close the case for good and declare him dead."
"Well," Vincent added, shutting down their argument. "If we hadn't said anything, he would have been declared dead automatically. At least we've still got some chance of the police helping us." Vincent watched Mike roll his eyes. "Come on, let's get some ice cream. Maybe we need a short break from this."
"Yeah..." Sensing the awkwardness amongst them, Ophelia added to Vincent's statement. "Vince's right. All we ever do is search for Jeremy, but maybe we need to let him come to us. We can try to meet him at the pizzeria, but we can't really do anything else until the results from the watch come back."
"I guess you're right." Mike blinked at the ground. "I can't help but think, though, that something terrible will happen if we ever put our guard down."
"Look, I don't know about you, but I want to live a normal life. If we find him, it'll probably be by chance." Vincent shrugged. "Are you coming to the diner or not?"
"Okay, fine, but make it quick. I have to get home before six 'cause my parents are making me babysit." Mike stood, trudging along the sidewalk behind Vincent and Ophelia, who were walking painfully slow for his taste. Probably because they were holding each other and walking at the same time. Not in a relationship, my ass. How can she stand him?
"Hey, guys, it's Vincent!"
"Yo, Vince!"
"What's up, dude? Who are your friends?"
"Hey!" Vincent greeted his coworkers at the diner with fist bumps and high fives. "This is Mike and Fritz, and you already know Ellie."
"Of course. Can I get you kids something to drink? On the house."
"I'll just get some iced coffee; plain," Vincent leaned against the bar while the other three took a seat on the barstools.
"Okie dokie. And for our lovely lady here?"
Ophelia laughed awkwardly. "Oh- uhh- could I get a cherry soda?"
"You sure can, ma'am. And our gentlemen?"
"Pepsi-"
"Coke-"
Mike and Fritz abruptly stopped, looked at each other, shrugged, and turned back toward the counter.
"Alrighty. I'll make sure not to mix those up. I'll be right back with those drinks."
With that, Fritz and Mike began their own discussion. Vincent took a seat on a barstool beside Ophelia.
"Hey, Vince, I need to ask you..."
"What is it, Ellie?"
"Could you give me a ride home today?"
"I haven't driven you home since you got your license. What about your car?"
"Well," Ophelia replied, looking down at the counter to avoid eye contact. "I didn't drive to school this morning. My sister brought me since I'm grounded..."
"What happened?"
"Remember Saturday night when you couldn't sleep so you called me instead? My mom heard the kitchen phone ring. That's why I hung up so quickly."
Vincent sighed. "Ellie, I'm so sorry."
"No- No, it's not your fault. Besides, I miss you driving me home."
"Well, I guess I could. How long are you grounded?"
"Until my mom gets back from her business trip, so sometime on Friday. She took the keys."
"So~" Vincent slightly changed the topic of conversation. "You can stay out as late as you want until then?"
"Yeah, I can," Ophelia replied, smiling. "But I have an essay due tomorrow, so maybe the night before we look for Jeremy at the pizzeria? We could see a movie then sleep over at my house."
"Ooh~ In the same bed or in bags on the floor?"
"Bags on the floor, idiot," Ophelia laughed. "I'm not allowed to use the guest room and if you don't bring a sleeping bag, I am not letting you sleep in my bed."
"Aww, why not?"
"You, Vince-" She pointed at Vincent, lightly pressing her finger into his chest. "-are the most aggressive cuddler I have ever known."
"I am not!" Vincent faked surprise, dramatically throwing his hand across his chest. "Even if I was, how is that a bad thing?"
"Well, it's hard to breathe when you lay on top of me."
"Then I won't lay on top of you."
"Maybe, but not after we've gone to bed."
"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Mike interrupted the conversation, sliding their drinks across the bar, where they caught them.
Ophelia shrugged. "It's just been a while since Vince and I have hung out, that's all."
"Whatever. I gotta go home. See you tomorrow, Fritz, Ophelia, Vincent."
"Bye, Mike!"
"See ya," Fritz leaned back against the bar, waving as he watched Mike leave the diner. "I should probably go, too. Thanks for bringing us here and for the free drinks."
"Anytime. It's my pleasure, really. See you tomorrow," Vincent replied, watching Fritz leave in the opposite direction Mike had gone earlier. "Ah, Ellie, I cant stand either of them. I really can't."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but we're together for Jeremy. Once we find him, who knows if all of us will ever be together at the same time again? We'll probably just split up into our separate groups again."
Sensing the tension between them, Vincent gently took Ophelia's hand in his own, changing the subject. "Tell me more about him; tell me about Jeremy."
She remembered Jeremy so vividly, he could have been standing right in front of them and there would have been no error in her description. Vincent had never met him, but he could make a crystal clear image of Jeremy in his mind.
"Sounds like a dork," he added.
"Oh, believe me, he is," Ophelia laughed, continuing to describe his ongoing obsession with anime.
Jeremy was still alive.
That much was for certain.
"Oh! Michael! Come in, come in. I was just about to get your father from the workshop." Mrs. Afton, a tall and slender woman with long, dark hair and a prominent French accent was quick to invite her son inside. "Remember, your father and I are going out tonight, so dinner for you, your brother, and your sister is in the fridge."
"Alright. Thanks, mom." Mike stopped before the staircase. "Will dad be up before you leave?"
"Oh, honey, I don't know. You know him, he's...unpredictable..." She walked over to Mike, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Mon petit canard, what's the matter? You look exhausted."
"Mom..." Mike smiled, rolling his eyes as he placed his hand over his mother's. "I'm seventeen. Don't call me that. It's just... We still haven't found Jeremy, and I don't know if we ever will. I feel like...I'm losing...something."
"Dear, I know it's scary, but losing control can be a good thing. I know you want to find him, but Jeremy's a strong boy. If you wait for him, he'll come to you. For now, all we can do is hope; hope and pray that he will be brought home safely. For now, you've got your friends to help you through this. Fritz, Ophelia, the boy with purple hair, they all care about you so much. Show them love while they're here to receive it."
Mike sighed, fully knowing- although not willing to admit- that she was right. "Okay, mom," he mumbled, staring into the only eyes he could never deny.
Suddenly, the door clicked open.
"Adelia? Are you ready to go?" Mr. Afton's voice echoed through the halls, effortlessly reaching the stairwell.
"We'll be back before midnight, alright? I trust you with your brother and sister," Mrs. Afton grabbed her purse from the coffee table, rushing back to the stairwell to give her son a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Michael." With that, she rushed to the front door.
"Love you, too, mom."
Mike walked upstairs, hearing his sister, Elizabeth, talking on the phone and his brother, Cassidy, watching TV. All three children ignored one another.
Such is only a normal evening in the Afton house.
Second-Hand Smoke
"Sure, I can stay out for a little longer." Ophelia took Vincent's hand, stepping beside him before they both left the diner.
Intentionally or not, their footsteps were synchronized. With how closely they were walking, though, it may have been no more than a measure to keep them from running into each other.
At that time, it was the beginning of April. Despite the hot and humid spouts of weather, the sun was still setting before six in the evening, leaving the city a blur of lights and the suburbs a mass of shadow. It reminded them of what they imagined major cities to be like: the streets still bustling even in the dark of night.
They were both dreamers. That much couldn't be denied. They were never sure what they wanted. All they knew was that it was going to be perfect and they consistently imagined themselves side-by-side, continuing to take on the world together even after high school.
As much as it pained Ophelia to think of, they were nothing but friends for eternity in their dreams.
It was true; she loved Vincent.
It wasn't like there was anything keeping her from telling Vincent how she felt. After all, they were such close friends that their regular interactions probably wouldn't change in the slightest.
On the other hand, their close-knit friendship could completely unravel with a sudden confession like that. Or, even worse, they would be expected to change for no reason other than their newfound love.
"Ellie, what do you want to be doing twenty years from now?" Vincent asked.
Vincent dreamt for none other than Ophelia. He knew to have no hope for his future, so he had hope for hers instead.
"But, Vince," Ophelia had said to him the first time they brought up their futures. Neither of them were more than eleven years old then. "Won't we still be together? In the future, I mean. We'll always be friends, won't we?"
On that day, all Vincent could do was blink back at her, saying, "Always."
So, as they left the town square, trapped in a situation neither of them could have predicted before Jeremy was declared to be missing, Ophelia thought silently, nearly walking past Vincent after he stopped on a well-lit street corner, leaning against a painted brick building. They never finished a future-related discussion nowadays, anyway.
"Just a minute, Ellie, if you don't mind." Vincent gently squeezed Ophelia's hand before letting go, frowning as he searched through his empty pockets. "Sorry, could you hand me my jacket for a sec, it's just-" Ophelia shrugged the leather jacket from her shoulders, handing it over. Unseen by the street lamp, Vincent pulled something out of the leather pocket, handing the jacket back to Ophelia. Before she even got one arm into the leather jacket, Vincent was already holding a cigarette up to his lips.
"Vince… But- I thought-"
"I know what you thought."
With a flick of a lighter, the damage had already been done. Vincent couldn't help but stare at the concrete. Anything was better than looking into Ophelia's eyes and regretting every poor decision he had ever made.
"Look at me… Please, Vince. Tell me the truth."
"The truth?" Vincent shifted against the wall, his eyes not moving from the array of cracks covering the sidewalk. "Addictions are hard to break."
"Vincent, please, look me in the eyes and tell me what you're thinking right now."
And, when he did finally make eye contact, his thoughts became clear. Of course, he didn't immediately drop the cigarette and swear to stop smoking. His thoughts didn't change; they only formed coherent words.
"When you have the hardest day of your life- when your outlook is really put into perspective for you- it's easy to fall back into old habits. When you realize that it doesn't matter, it ceases to be a problem; it's only a solution."
"So...you-" Ophelia choked on her words, barely able to force them out without breaking down out of sheer betrayal. "You relapsed...because I couldn't be there for you on Saturday night...when you called me?"
"Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault and it's not your problem, either. I'll be fine."
"You can't be sure of that…"
Vincent sighed. "Come on. Let's get you home. It's late." Wrapping a protective arm around Ophelia's shoulders, he started toward the high school parking lot.
It wasn't the first time they had this discussion; far from it, actually.
"Come on, Vince, we should go inside and dance...maybe sit by the pool...something…" It was their first high school party and they had been invited by one of Vincent's friends. Besides Vincent, Ophelia didn't know anyone else there.
"It'll be quick, okay? I just thought you should get to know some of my friends. Later, we can spend as much time together as you want."
"Alright…" In reality, it turned out to be not very alright.
Sure, she liked Vincent, but his friends...didn't exactly share her best interests. Sure, she was curious, but she didn't want to end up entirely wasted in front of about fifty strangers. If she was going to drink at all, it would be in a familiar place with no one other than Vincent.
"Sorry about them," Vincent apologized half jokingly as they found a spot by the pool to sit far away from everyone else. "We don't have to see them for the rest of the party."
Ophelia crossed her arms, leaning back into the beach chair to look at the stars. "No, I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm probably not supposed to be here, anyway. I wanna go home."
"Well, alright. After I finish this drink I'll take you home."
"Thanks."
"No prob-"
"Hey, Corey bought way too many of these things and has to get rid of them. You want one?" They both sat up, looking through the dimly-lit pool area for whoever interrupted them.
"Sure, whatever." The kid in front of them, who was holding a bucket full of unopened packs of cigarettes, tossed one of the packs to Vincent, who caught it, shoving it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
"You want one too, sweetheart?" The kid stepped toward Ophelia.
"No." She looked away coldly, slightly digging her nails into her forearms.
"Who's your girlfriend, Vince?"
"She's not my girlfriend, and leave her alone," Vincent spat back at him.
"Well- jeez- alright-" He took a step back before leaning toward Ophelia one last time. "If you're ever lonely, babe-"
"Get the hell away from her. She doesn't want-"
"She-" He mocked, turning toward Vincent for a few seconds. "Can speak for herself." He stopped beside the beach chair, placing his hand dangerously close to Ophelia's thigh. "Whaddaya say? Need a ride home tonight, darlin'?"
"No, thanks…" She swatted his hand away, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"Well, then-" He stood, looking to Vincent one last time. "See ya tomorrow, Vince. If you're even at school, that is."
Before Vincent could reply, the kid was gone.
"Creep," Ophelia muttered before leaning back into the chair again. They both sat in silence until she smelt smoke. "Vince, are you seriously smoking that? I thought you only took it because you felt bad for him."
"It's fine. The first time I tried one, I got used to it pretty quickly."
"I don't know… I wouldn't want you losing your voice, or worse…"
"I'm not going to die, Ellie. There's nothing to worry about."
"There's always a chance, though, even if it's small." She sat up in the chair, leaning toward Vincent. "Besides, if anything bad happens, we won't get to grow old together."
It was as if that night never ended, a constant repetition of that conversation hanging in the air no matter where they were.
"You know," Ophelia said, stopping at the street corner across from the high school. "If you keep smoking, we might not get to grow o-"
"Yeah, I get it."
As the traffic light turned green, Vincent crossed the street without a glance toward Ophelia.
"Vince, please, I'll help you. Whatever's wrong, you can tell me about it."
"No. You don't need to get involved. I can deal with this myself."
That was where it ended.
Vincent knew everything about Ophelia, but her? Vincent had stopped telling her everything by the seventh grade. If she wasn't so drawn to him, she would have left.
She tried to leave once, but the guilt was overwhelming.
All she ever wanted was for both of them to be happy. Why was that so difficult?
"Hey, would you mind giving my jacket back? I kinda need it to get home," Vincent said as they turned the corner into the parking lot, which was completely empty except for a shiny, purple motorcycle.
"Oh- Yeah, sure." She slipped the leather jacket off of her shoulders, handing it to Vincent. "Thanks for letting me wear it, by the way."
"No problem. Here." He handed her a shiny, black helmet, which she gently took and placed over her head. As the engine roared to life, Vincent took her hand. "Ready to go, lovely?"
She laughed softly, rolling her eyes. "Absolutely." She couldn't deny the rapid beating of her heart, though, as she used Vincent's shoulders to climb onto the seat.
"It's been a while since we've done this," Vincent said, slowly backing out of the parking space.
"Yeah, it has…" Ophelia wrapped her arms around Vincent's slim waist, leaning against his back as they sped out of the parking lot.
One thing was for sure; they both wanted to stay like this forever. If only they knew of their feelings for each other…
He always heard noises coming from that place…
The kids were in bed, Fritz said he was going to sleep, and who knows where Ophelia and Vincent were…
On sleepless nights like this, Mike would have called Jeremy.
Now, though, all he had was the crystal clear night sky. There wasn't any light pollution since he practically lived in the middle of nowhere.
He had been stargazing every night for the past week, desperately trying to remember the constellations, the moon phases, the way the earth orbited through the vast sea of stars, and the soft hum of Ophelia's voice as she would recite the stories of every one of those star patterns.
She wasn't there with Mike that night, nor had she been there at all for the past two years. It was something about Vincent moving out of the Afton house to live with his biological parents and his best friend going over there to visit instead.
Mike and Ophelia may have had a bit of a falling out, too, which he also blamed on Vincent.
He may have loved her, but he repressed it as soon as she finally broke down and confessed.
"I really, really love Vincent… You won't tell him, will you? ...thanks, Mike. You're an amazing friend. I knew I could trust you."
He still hadn't let the secret out, even after Vincent brought him a similar confession shortly before moving out.
After a half hour, he could only recognize one constellation he saw. Leo- the lion- was his star sign.
"People say they're stubborn and self-centered, but I think it's more a fear of losing control. Same with how some say they're over dramatic. You're a good leader because you know how to keep people's attention. I wish I could do that…"
Mike ran his hands through his hair, trying to rid himself of the memories. They were so vivid, it was almost as if Ophelia was still laying in the grass beside him, humming a soft song after she had said all she wanted to say.
He sat up, glancing back at the house. It seemed to be calling his name…
Or maybe that was the precariously-built wooden shed nestled in the trees beside it, the workshop he was warned to never go into.
One peek couldn't hurt, right?
"Michael? Mike!" A muffled voice echoed across the ground, where the grass had been dead for years and the soil was rock hard.
He could see the structure caving under the branches of an overgrown oak tree. If his father willingly stepped foot in the shed, surely Mike shouldn't have to worry about it collapsing with him inside.
He continued to hear the faraway voice, not able to pin it to a specific source. It was a woman's voice; that was all he could tell.
Just as he touched the doorknob-
"Michael!"
Mike quickly spun around, meeting his father's eyes.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? You know you're not supposed to go down there. It's not safe." His father, William Afton, swiftly grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the house, the voice from the shed fading.
"I heard something in there, I swear. It was calling my name…"
"There are a few animatronics in there. It was probably just a broken voice box. Ignore it."
Mike sighed, stepping into the foyer of their house. "Alright. I'm going to bed." After hearing nothing but silence throughout the- now empty- living room, he quietly stepped upstairs, as to
not wake up his siblings.
After falling atop his bed, he stared at the phone for only a few seconds.
It was midnight. Surely, Vincent would still be awake, wishing he could call Ophelia to distract him from whatever trouble he had gotten himself into this time.
Despite saying he was going to sleep, Fritz was probably still wide awake, staring at the ceiling as he replayed every second of the days leading up to Jeremy's disappearance.
And here was Mike, wondering what he did to cause his family to drift apart.