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Love Runs Out; 'I got my mind made up and I can't let go.' (private)
Topic Started: Apr 4 2017, 10:55 PM (860 Views)
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Alex was dead.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued from Miss Atomic Bomb))

He’d heard that a couple minutes ago. On the announcements. He’d woken up a couple minutes before they happened and he’d heard the crackling of the speakers once again and he’d sat down, figuring that it’d be best if he stayed still for these like how he stayed still the previous times they’d come on. Sat on the desk in the centre of the room he was in. Listened quietly as the person up top spoke off about how more of his classmates were dead. It was surprisingly okay. Isabel was dead, which meant another threat was gone. The others weren’t people Jeremy cared about. His thoughts had shifted to other things, namely the place he was in. Had he been in here before? Was this the place he’d heard that first announcement in? He wasn’t sure.

But then the person up top said his name, and the sense of deja vu he had felt back at the rooftop came back in full force.

Alex was dead.

The boy that Jeremy had spent over a day being with - the boy who had taught him that he couldn’t just take the people here at face value - was gone.


A face that he’d never see again.

The room had been empty. Silent for everything except for his thoughts. Considerations. Words going round and round and just repeating themselves over and over again.

The point was, he just had to speed up.

Keep moving.

No more distractions.

No more considerations.

1. Have fun, above all else.
2. Get to Emma. As soon as possible.
3. Find Serena. Make sure she's safe.
4. Figure out what the fuck to do with Alex.
5. Find Al. Say hi.
6. Find Clarice. Apologise for earlier.
7. Figure out who else should be on this list. Retroactively add them.
8. Find Josh's corpse. Give last respects, for what they're worth to him.
9. Find Jasmine. Figure out what happens when you get there.
10. Find Caedyn, get closure in that area, if you can.
11. Pursue hopeless venture of survival, if above conditions have been fulfilled.

Focus on the people already on there. Forget about everyone else, for the time being.

Good plan?


Good plan.

There was one thing he had to do first, though. A camera on the wall. A face now looking up at it.

“So, uh. Mom? Dad?”

Something he’d been thinking about for the past few days. Nothing big. Nothing noteworthy.

Still something he had to do, though.

“I’m… not sure if you’re watching this or not. You probably aren’t, but, like, I may as well try saying this, right? In case you like, are, and stuff.”

He scratched his head. Took a couple seconds doing so.

“Point is, regardless of whether you’re watching or not… I’m sorry.”

He paused. Breathed.

“For… being a shithead, I mean. I… probably said some bad things back then. Probably thought of some worse things back then.”

He stopped talking, for a few seconds.

He wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s, uh, hard to say why I was. Sorta hard to totally remember things from back then. I guess it was because… I dunno. I disagreed. You said some things and I thought some other things and those things really didn’t go well together. I wanted to defend myself, we both thought we were in the right, and…”

One last pause.

“Point is, I’m sorry. If that’s worth anything to you, then I’ll take that, I guess.”

Silence filled the room again.
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Silence. That was, until he had heard the applause coming from the door, and until he heard once again the person whose voice he had loathed all through his past years.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Caedyn Miller was a person who didn’t need to be explained. The facts and memories in that area kept coming back probably every day since the incident. To recap: Jeremy had noticed a goth girl in the year below him during the last year of middle school. He’d begun to notice this girl in a very romantic way. Unlike all of the other girls he had crushes on since first grade, though, for whatever reason he had decided to actually act on his feelings and ask her out. She’d accepted. Soon they began dating. Soon Jeremy realised that she was actually sort of a terrible person to be around. Soon she became too much, even for him. Soon, he left. Her, and middle school.

He thought that that would have been the end of it. He thought that that would have been the last he’d ever have to think of her.

He thought wrong.

He hadn’t recognised her, initially, when she’d shown up during the Future Students day. She’d changed her style. Her hair. He just assumed she was from a different middle school, as she came up to him.

But then she’d spoken and that voice he had tried to forget came back and then it began all over again. And it was worse, this time. She’d come back with a vengeance, apparently. Everywhere he went. Every class he had, she seemed to be there. The nickname she’d called him once or twice before then became all he was known for by strangers. People who didn’t know better. People who didn’t know what it meant. And it had made him mad, what she was doing. He had tried to ignore her, he had tried to pretend she wasn’t there every time she showed up, but it never worked. She was always able to say something. She was always able to bring that thorn into his side. She was always able to bring back those memories.

But that was back then.

Maybe things had changed, now.

Maybe the two of them could be civil, for once.


Maybe not.

Still worth a shot, though.

“Nothing, really. I just figured that, given where I am and what’s just happened, I may as well get my things out now while I know I’ve still got time to. Death island, and all. The end might be just around the corner, or some pseudo-fatalist stuff like that.”

A pause. He tapped his hand on the desk he was sitting on.

“But regardless of that, how are you holding up?”
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“Wait, you’ve been with Jasmine?”

Shit, that was a surprise. A pleasant one, as well. He knew that it should have been a given - Jasmine was Caedyn’s bitch, of course they’d cling to each other wherever they went - but it was still a surprise. A fact that had correlated in his mind back then but not now. Something he knew he’d thought of before but not in a way that had mattered now. Regardless, it was still good. Meant that finding Jasmine would be pretty easy now. Meant that - once he’d sorted out his feelings with her, for what she’d done - he could probably find where Josh was. Go to his corpse. Give his last words. He hadn’t really prepared them, but he figured he could get them out pretty easily.

And then he’d have three out of seven, right there. After five or six or seven or however many days of fruitlessness, he finally had something.

Shit, things were finally looking up for him.



Caedyn was still in front of him.

And given that she’d killed, and given who she was, there stood a chance of her maybe trying to make sure he didn’t get out of here. He knew he had his gun, he knew that he could shoot her if he needed to, but he didn’t really want to. He’d told Ben that he’d try to do as he’d requested. He knew that just killing people randomly was not the way to get people to like him, here.

And there was something in his head. Little guy on his shoulder. Telling him that maybe, just maybe, he still held a little bit of sentimentality for the goth girl in the year below.

...It’d be simple, really. All he needed to do was kiss her ass. Feed her ego. Maybe give her a bit more of what the story actually was.

And he knew the perfect thing to say in that regard.

“Sorry if I’m, like, acting hasty or acting weird or anything, it’s just that she’s actually one of the people I’ve been looking for.”

A quick pause.

“You were one of them, too.”
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This wasn’t ideal.

The pistol was in front of him point blank. The gun was pointed at his chest. One shot and it’d be over. Just a simple movement on Caedyn’s part would mean that he wouldn’t be leaving this room alive. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. There were so many things he still had to do and if he died here then he wouldn’t be able to do them and no no no he couldn’t die here he had to do something he had to save himself. Focus. Think. He was here. He was on a table, and there was a gun on him. Did she win her gun? He vaguely remembered hearing that she’d won the competition the day before he won it. That meant she’d killed. That meant she’d probably be okay with doing it again. That meant she wasn’t going to flake. That meant  he wasn’t going to get out that way.

Which left going with the demands she’d asked of him.

Talk fast.

Don’t lie.

Take a breath.

Close your eyes.


“I’ve been following a list. Things to do and people to meet before it all ends for me since I figured that I probably won’t be surviving this. The people on the list are as follows: Emma Luz, Serena Waters, Alessio Rigano, Clarice Halwood, Joshua Bracewell, Jasmine Reed, and you. Jasmine was on there because she killed Josh. I wanna ask her why it happened. Figure out what happened from there. You’re on there for closure reasons. I wanted to talk to you about the… thing, that happened. Wasn’t really something I wanted to get up to do but if you appeared there wasn’t really a reason not to.”

A pause. Another breath taken.

“You happy with that?”
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She didn’t know what he was talking about?

This was…

This was awkward.

He didn’t think he needed to explain why. He was pretty sure the situation explained itself pretty well. Caedyn had a gun on him. Caedyn - the creeping, lurking terror who made his social life a living hell the moment she emerged - was the person who held all the power over whether he lived another fleeting moment of ten minutes or so or whether he died right here. You could see what the issue was with that pretty quickly, Jeremy imagined. It was a situation which he didn’t have a lot of control over. He wanted to live. He wanted to get out of this room. He knew that, but he couldn’t act upon it. Caedyn was the one with the gun. His was on the desk besides him. He’d have to move to get it. That meant he couldn’t do anything like what he’d done with Ben.

So that meant he had to just go along with Caedyn’s demands, and hope that that produced a way out for him.

There was a thing he was talking about. She didn’t know what the thing was.

As thus: he had to explain what the thing was.

“Y’know, the thing. Back in… middle school. The… relationship. I wanted to talk about that.”

He couldn’t even say that he could look down through the barrel, or anything like that. It was pointed at his chest; he was trying to look at her eyes. The very thing that could end his life was something that he could barely even see.

He didn’t know if that was supposed to be something relieving or something that made this that, that much worse.

“Like, couple’s counselling, or something like that. Figure out what went wrong. Get closure, or something like that.”
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“No, I don’t.”

There was a tone of disbelief in her voice. There was a hint that she wasn’t taking him seriously. There was a feeling that she was going to burst into laughter at any moment. That wasn’t a good thing. It meant that he was that much further away from getting to her. It meant that he wasn’t close to disarming this situation at all. It meant that it was still very likely that he was going to get shot here. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t ideal. He knew that he was contradicting himself by thinking that and he knew that he was betraying the platform he stood on but he wanted to live. At least long enough to get out of here. He didn’t want to die. Not here, not now, and not to her, of all people.

Jeremy Frasier was going to die on his island. He knew that. He’d said it so many times, at this point. 0% chance of winning the game.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to die to fucking Caedyn, of all people.

So he had to get himself out of this situation.

Talk fast.

Don’t lie.

Figure out that opening and take it for all it was worth.

There was a moment of silence, after he’d said what he’d said. That probably wasn't good. He needed to elaborate. Fast.

“To be honest, my memory told me that I was the one who broke it off, so I guess I’m missing something here. Enlighten me, if you may.”
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They were playing a question game, weren’t they?

This wasn’t really how Jeremy was expecting this to go and this wasn’t really how Jeremy wanted this to go but if that was how this was going then he could play ball. Admittedly, the question got him a little bit. There were two seconds or so spent desperately trying to think of an answer that he initially thought he didn’t have. That didn’t last for long, though. He got his answer fairly quickly. He got himself past the point she was trying to make in less than five seconds. If he’d counted before, that might have been a record. If he cared at all, it might have been a point actually worth saying.

He didn’t, though. He had his answer, and that was all he needed.

“Puzzles. You’re into puzzles. Have been since pre k. Next.”

She could try him all she wanted, but she wasn’t going to get him. Not here. Not now.
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And once again, silence filled the room.


“I mean, the whole point of this was for you to get over your issues, so, uh…”

A pause.

He looked into her eyes.

“You could shoot me if that would make you happy.”
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For a moment, he thought that he’d had her.

For a moment, Jeremy thought he’d figured out his way out of this room.

He’d figured - right then - that she wouldn’t do it. That with the opportunity she had of killing him she’d flake at the last moment. Prove that she was better by not shooting him when he was acting like he wanted her to. Maybe even try to do some of that cassowary shit she seemed to like doing a lot. She’d leave the suicidal guy be. Wouldn’t take his bait. Would let him wallow in his own self pity or failure or whatever. His first sentence was a part of that. He wanted to piss her off. Make her angry. Say something so stupid it looked like he wanted her to kill him. Make it look like he was baiting her. Have her take the bait. Have her think she’s better, not stoop so low as to take him out, then he’d be free to leave. Simple as that.

That was the plan. That was his ticket out of this room.

And maybe he knew that she was right.

And maybe he knew that he wasn’t the one in the right, back then.

It didn’t matter though. Not right now.

Because right now, he was seeing that clear path from A to B, and he couldn’t let anything get in his way.


He’d thought he’d seen it, anyway.

There was a brief moment of recognition as she’d opened her eyes.

One brief moment where Jeremy knew that he’d failed.

He’d smiled. Attempted to laugh.

“You little bi-”

There was an explosion and a smash as the bullet went through his chest, hitting and shattering the window behind it.

There was a brief moment of realisation, as Caedyn turned away from him.

And then there was no response, as the body hit the floor.
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Dull. Sharp. Coarsing. Raging. Spreading. Just painful beyond all belief and beyond all comprehension and there was barely anything that he could do to fight it and there were barely any words that he could use to describe it and he was laying. Here. Behind a desk. Dying in unimaginable pain and unable to do anything about it because every breath felt like a steel trap closing on his lungs impaling them making sure every bit of pain and misery and fear came to the forefront and making sure every movement he made on this floor was as weak and as pointless as it possibly could be and making sure that he couldn’t do anything about this. Nothing. Nothing except the pain and the fear and the spreading warmth of his blood and the encroaching cold of his death and it hurt it hurt and he couldn’t think of anything else other than that.

Because he knew he was going to die here.

He knew that everything he had said about himself, the thing that he’d said would happen since the moment he woke up here was beginning to come true.

And he knew that he wasn’t going to achieve anything now. The list. Everything he wanted to do before the inevitable happened and everything that he had sacrificed in order to try and achieve it was pointless now. He’d said the wrong thing and now he was flailing about on the floor knowing that he was going to die any moment now.

He knew that.

But he couldn’t think about it.

Because the pain was coursing through his body. Raging. Spreading. Dull. Sharp.

And there was nothing here able to dull it.

There was nothing here that could make him forget.

Jeremy Frasier was going to die on this island, and he couldn’t think about anything other than that simple, plain fact.

He hadn’t heard the footsteps. He hadn’t heard her voice. All he knew and all he could see was the familiar shape standing above him.

Was it her?

He didn’t know.

He had to figure it out. He had to say something. Make sure.


And the trap closed and the pain coursed through his body and he couldn’t even scream and he couldn’t even breathe and
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The water went down his throat. It felt clear. Clean. Pure. For a moment, the metallic feeling that filled his throat vanished, it was like normal again.

And then the water got caught and then he couldn’t breathe and he coughed and he sputtered and then the blood the metallic feeling came back filled his throat made it so that he couldn’t breathe made it so that he had to cough. Again and again. The sound was off. The noise coming from his cough didn’t sound right. It was heavy it was deep and it hurt it wheezed it clenched down on his lungs crushed them squeezed out and it hurt it hurt the pain came back it was warm it was cold and it was sharp and it hurt it hurt he had to try he had to focus he had to block it out if he even wanted to focus on anything else because it was there it was rising it was all-encompassing and he could barely think of anything else other than that fact.

But he had to.

He had to think.

He had to block out the pain.

Because it was her. It was Fiyori, kneeling down above him. Moving his head up.

He was dying.

He knew that.

But it was her.

He finally found somebody.

He had to say it.

He had to do it, before it was too late.


And then the coughs came back.

And then the metallic feeling came back. Controlled his throat, again.

And then there was nothing more coming from his mouth.
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She didn't know what to say.

He did.

Because there wasn’t a choice in the matter. There wasn’t anything else he could do. He had to talk. It really did matter. The pain was fading out of his body and he could only feel the cold now and he knew he was dying in her arms. No. He had to talk. He had to do something. He knew this moment had been coming from the moment he’d woken up on this island and he’d been spending every waking moment here just trying to prepare for it but he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to go. Not here, not now. There were still things he had to do. People he had to see. There was a world out there of people fighting and dying and he knew that there were people he knew out there but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was in here. Unable to do anything more.

So no.

He had to talk.

They were his final words.

He had to make them count.

“No, I-”

Because there was Emma. She was out there. She was somewhere on this island. She was his friend. One of his closest ones. They’d talked. They’d worked together. They had fun. Maybe he did occasionally say weird shit to her, maybe he did tend to creep her out every now and again, but it didn’t matter. She’d never minded that. Maybe she even found it funny, occasionally. It was a natural part of him. It was a natural part of them being friends. It was why he had to find her. He had to be there. She was hurting. He knew that. So he had to make her smile. He had to make her feel better. He had to at least try. If he didn’t, then he couldn’t call himself her friend, right?

And there was Serena. She was out there, too. Somewhere on this island, fighting and dying and doing who knows what. She was also his friend. A close one. She was that shy girl who never seemed to talk to anyone else but talked to him that one day he was third violin and who kept talking to him afterwards. She’d gotten him into Survivor. She’d made sure he’d become obsessed with it and she’d made sure that he’d always have something to talk about whenever he was with her. He knew that she didn’t have many other friends, so he’d made sure to always keep her company. And that was what he had to do here. Find her. Protect her. Keep her company. If he let her die alone, then that meant he failed. No ifs or buts about it.

And there was Al. He was also out there. On the island. The newest challenger to take up the game, apparently. He was quiet, back then. Having a conversation always seemed to be a little more difficult with him than it was with others. The effort had paid off, though. Because they were friends. Good ones. They could talk about anything and it’d be entertaining enough for Jeremy to want to continue on with it. And he could talk. He knew that. He could talk Al down, just like he’d done with Alex. Al had killed three people. Jeremy wanted to know why. Once he did he’d know what to say. He’d know how to calm him down. Maybe Al would have been a threat. Maybe he was going to be someone Jeremy had to put down, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that without trying first.

Then there was Alex. He wasn’t here anymore. He wasn’t on this island. He honestly wasn’t even really a friend, either. Not before this. Jeremy had only really recognised him as a face. Not until he’d killed. Not until Jeremy had met him. Not until he’d taught Jeremy something far more important than anything else he’d been told on this island. He’d taught Jeremy to not take things at face value. He’d taught Jeremy to listen first before making a judgement. He’d taught Jeremy that the people who killed weren’t the monsters, it was those who were weak. The ones who had fallen into the game so easily. The ones who so easily called others monsters for things they were considering doing. Even if Alex was dead, even if he couldn’t act upon his deal anymore, he still had to live. He still had to be strong. He still had to be better than those beneath him.


The syllable choked itself out of his throat. His hand clutched. Scratched. Tore at the hand of Fiyori’s he was holding on to. Maybe it hurt her. Maybe he shouldn’t do that, but he wouldn’t stop. He didn’t notice.

Because there was Ben. He wasn’t here anymore. He was probably on that roof, his carcass serving as food for the vultures or the birds or whatever was up there. Because hey, look, Jeremy had done it. He hadn’t killed anyone else. You’d challenged him and blustered yourself up and put Jeremy through tooth and nail just to prove your goddamn point and you succeeded. Maybe he hadn’t been able to give the bag back, maybe he hadn’t been able to find Penelope, but at least he died in pain and fear on this floor before he’d been able to do anything about his goals. You happy about that? You happy that he failed in doing most of the stuff he wanted to make sure he did?

Because guess what? That wasn’t entirely because of you. Because there was Josh. Because there was Jasmine. Josh was a friend. A close one. One of the kindest people he’d met and one of the easiest people he’d been with to get along with. And he was dead. Killed on the very first day by Caedyn’s fucking bitch before Jeremy even had a chance to find him. Even then, he’d wanted to do something about that. Find his corpse. Find Jasmine. Figure out why it happened. Give his last regards. It wasn’t much, it wouldn’t have compared to being able to see him in person, but it would have made him happy. He would have been okay with doing that.

But he couldn’t now.

Because he was in this room, in Fiyori’s arms. Dying. The cold was spreading and his sight was weakening and he knew that he wasn’t leaving this room alive. He’d been saying it since moment one.

Jeremy Frasier, 0% chance of winning this game.

Jeremy Frasier, 0% chance of doing anything he wanted to do before his time came.

Well, no, actually.

There was a chance.

Because there was Fiyori. She was here. Holding his body. Putting him close to her. She was… a friend. Maybe an acquaintance. He still wasn’t quite sure. Maybe there was a point where she’d annoyed him. Maybe she did blame him for something he didn’t do. Maybe she did bring up bad memories. She was still fun though. Friendly. Gave him food, that one time. Gave him company, for a brief moment. He wanted to say sorry, about that. About leaving. He’d gotten angry and he’d raged his way out and he’d never been able to talk with her, after that. So he wanted to say sorry. He wanted to make sure that got out. Even if he was dying here, even if he wasn’t going to be able to achieve anything that he wanted to, he could still do that, right?

So no.

It did matter.

He had to say something.

They were his final words.

He had to make them count.

No regrets.


He looked up. Into her eyes. Brought the syllable out of his mouth.


The metallic feeling filled his throat. The syllable could only barely choke itself out. He tried bringing another.


He’d kept his head up, for a few seconds.

And then the world never saw his face again.


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