Notes: Listen, I'm trying
As soon as Michael opened his eyes, surrounded by darkness, he rushed into a sitting position as fast as the painful headache and memories of the night returned. The last thing he remembered was Jeremy... singing to him? That can't be right. Jeremy had called him a loser and left him in the bathroom. Even if Jeremy had come back for him, or just stumbled upon him and found him in his horrible state, he would be absolutely disgusted. Even if it's possible that he doesn't hate him, Jeremy refuses to sing. No matter how much Michael had asked him to, he refused out of embarrassment. So... why does he remember his player two ("I wish he was my player two.") singing to him... a song from Book of Mormon and a 2000s pop song? Huh? Wait a sec... "Where am I?" Michael noticed the fuzzy blankets enveloping him, yet still felt like some sort of ice cube on drugs, as he scanned his surroundings. An old-timey tv, a lava lamp, his Pac-Man set and vintage Mario controllers.. "Is this some sort of underground railroads for dependent-80s-obsessed gay teens...? Oh wait no this is my basement. Same thing I guess." Michael wished he could laugh at his thoughts, at his dependence, at his.. everything. It all seemed so worthless. My connection with Jeremy is pretty much the only thing that matters to me at this point. ... Wow that's sad. Michael had worried for years that Jeremy would inevitably realize that he was absolutely worthless, and he guessed today was that day. Halloween. At Jake's fucking party. That he showed up at. Because he wasn't fucking invited. "Nobody's aware of my existence. Even if they knew about my presence, they wouldn't care if I lived or died or anything in between. Like where I'm mentally at now." Worthless. Useless. Alone. Lonely. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. The word repeats itself like the broken radio next to his dresser, a horrible mantra.
That's exactly what I am. Who pines after thier best -their only- friend for twelve years, gets too anxious to say anything, and falls apart when he's ditched by him? I knew this would happen. And to make matters worse, he literally finds me banging me head against the toilet and throwing up, while having a classic Michael Mell nose bleed. What the actual-- Damnit, stay positive. When all else fails, you can count on yourself to be optimistic. .... And to break down and throw up at the most popular guy's house. Wait.... how did he get me to my house? How did he get me out of the party? He must have had to carry me out! Well, fuck. That was probably a huge strain on his muscles. Unless his squip made him work out... His squip. Double fuck. That mechanical floppy disk is going to take over my best friend and turn him into some kind of zombie! Like a sci fi- fantasy type horror dystopia. Not the time for subplots. I've gotta help him! I've gotta-
"Jer!" Michael yelled (or attempted) hoarsely. Stupid immune system was the last coherent thought Michael had before he fainted.
Notes: Aaaaand we're back! Characters in gay relationships can be annoying to write when they have the same pronouns. Hope it isn't too confusing.
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BMC AU Michael In The Bathroom
FanfictionMature because of some trigger warnings: Self harm, panic attacks, cursing In which, hopefully, I write about the emotional comfort that should've taken place after Michael In The Bathroom that we BMC fans have been craving. Instead of a bald guy wi...
