"Get out of my way, loser," Jeremy spits, pushing Michael away from him. He is immediately filled with guilt upon seeing the absolute hurt and shocked look on his friend's face - no, his best friend. Michael is best friend. Michael was his best friend. Because Jeremy knew that the moment the word 'loser' had left his mouth, his and Michael's friendship was over. At least, it was to Michael. To Jeremy, he wanted nothing more than to walk back inside and apologize for his words, to beg for Michael's friendship again.

But the SQUIP is looking at him now, eyes narrowed as if knowing what Jeremy was thinking. Perhaps it did know. Perhaps it was going to shock him again, which Jeremy couldn't stand to think about it. So he continued walking away, intent on getting as drunk as possible to forget about what had been said. Oh, Michael. I'm sorry. Shit, I need to get back up there. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Don't even think about it, Jeremy. We need to work on your flirting skills," the SQUIP snaps, its eyes a fiery red. Jeremy swallows. He doesn't want to be shocked, anything but that. He gets downstairs. He's offered a beer by Jake and gladly accepts, finishing the drink in three gulps. He grabs another. Vaguely, Jeremy can hear the SQUIP shouting at him to stop, but Jeremy doesn't stop. Fuck you. You made me hurt Michael.

'That's your ... Michael ... bringing you down ... did what you ... do,' the SQUIP says, but it's all jumbled together. Jeremy can still feel the anger, though - if the SQUIP was a real thing, Jeremy would punch it.

Shut the fuck up.

'Jeremy ... down ... never ... popular ... without me!' the SQUIP cried. Jeremy lets out a sigh as the monster finally disappears. But then he's filled with guilt at what he did to Michael, who's probably gone by now. But Jeremy stays where he is, no longer drinking, but still ... standing there. He's alone. Well, not really. There's Brooke, talking to him. There's Chloe, offering him sex. There's him, shaking his head.

Because wasn't he supposed to be somewhere?

Wasn't he supposed to be with someone?

Someone ...

Important to me.

Michael?

Michael!

His phone buzzes. Jeremy grabs it from his pocket, trying to read the text in his drunken state. Michael. It's Michael texting him. Jeremy sighs, almost not wanting to look at it, not wanting to see the words Michael was texting him. He hates me. It's my fault. Michael hates me and it's all my fault. Oh, God, I called him a loser. I fucked up. I fucked up. Shit.

Michael: I'm sorry. God, I'msorry. Everhing will be alwrite soon.

Jeremy freezes, confused. What the fuck was Michael talking about? Michael never apologized over text - that wasn't his thing. Too impersonal, he always said. And the fucked up grammar worried Jeremy. Michael, for all his flaws, never had fucked up grammar. Unless he was stoned. Or dying.

Dying.

Jeremy types out his responses as fast as he can.

Jeremy: wtf? what's happening? why are you sorry?
Michael: shit dude, I fucked up. Ifuckip up im sorry
Jeremy: Michael your scaring me
Jeremy: Michael
Jeremy: Michael
Jeremy: Michael?
Jeremy: I'm looking for u, where are u?
Jeremy: Michael!

Jeremy keeps texting him until he realizes he's not getting an answer. So he calls him. And there's no answer. So he calls him again. And again. And five more times before he finally passes the bathroom and hears Michael's ringtone. A Bob Marley song. Fuck. Of course he's in there. Fuck. Fuck! Jeremy rushes past the line of pissed off people, banging on the door. There's no answer, so he does it again. No answer.

"MICHAEL!" Jeremy yells, kicking the door open. His breath catches - there's Michael, bleeding out on the bathroom floor, tears marking his pale face. Jeremy rushed to his side, grabbing his arm roughly and pulling down the sleeves of Michael's red sweater. "Oh, God, Michael, no. No, please no," Jeremy begs, tears beginning to fill his eyes. "Michael, please. Michael, I can't- I can't do this without you!" He starts openly crying, no giving a single fuck about the people crowding around at the door. He just needed to hear Michael's voice again. He wants to hear Michael laugh, to reveal the prank before it goes too far.

But Michael stays silent.

Jeremy is alone.

A Player 2 without a Player 1.

Game Over.