(TW: Vomit, Mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm. Based off the performance above. Descriptions taken from an actual panic attack I had. Please do not proceed if sensitive to the afore mentioned.)
❝ I am hanging in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall.
I could stay right here or disappear, and nobody'd even notice at all. ❞
The door slammed shut.
Michael stood there, frozen.
What?
Did he hear him right?
Surely he didn't. He must've said something else. Jeremy wouldn't say that. He wouldn't call him that. He wouldn't insult him with the same word his most notorious bullies used on him. Surely he heard him wrong. No, no, no no no no NO. Jeremy knew how much that word affected him.
He didn't say it. He refused to believe that word came out of Jeremy's mouth.
If he did hear him wrong, why did he keep echoing it in his mind? It was like a broken record, playing over and over and over in his head.
Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. LOSER. LOSER! Your best friend just called you a loser. You heard him right! Why are you denying it!
Michael blinked. He was holding in his breath without even knowing it. He exhaled loudly, his hand shooting over to the wall for support. His skin suddenly began to burn, pins and needles began poking through his scratchy sweater. A clawing feeling began to rise in his throat. "A-Agh.." He groaned quietly, slowly making his way over to the bathtub.
Michael's breath began to quicken in pace.
Jeremy just called him a loser.
❝I'm a creeper in a bathroom cuz' my buddy kinda left me alone.
But I'd rather fake pee than stand awkwardly or pretend to check a text on my phone.❞
His vision suddenly darkened, like a black cloud went over his sight. His head was aching with a fierce headache, and his body begun to crumble onto the floor. His heart was racing so much, he was scared he was having a heart attack.
"Y-you're fine. Hey. Hey, pull yourself together, you're- you're fine, you're—" He cut himself off with a loud gasp of air as he began to hyperventilate. His loud, desperate gasps for air echoed in the bathroom. He made it to the bathtub and he collapsed against the white surface, sitting up against the wall and trying his hardest to breath.
His thoughts were a mess, his mind was a mess. Everything hurt—was he going to die? Was he having a heart attack? Where did Jeremy go? What was going on? How long has he been in the bathroom? Was it weird to be in here for this long? Were people waiting to use it? Was he wasting time? Were people mad at him? Was Jeremy mad at him? Of course he was, you fucking idiot.
He then quickly realized what was happening.
He was having a panic attack.
❝Everything felt fine, when I was half of a pair. And through no fault of mine, there's no other half there.❞
The bathroom seemed bigger than ever. The bathtub seemed like it could swallow him whole. Michael felt so small. It was the only thing keeping him from the outside, but it still felt so huge. The lightbulb, which seemed to be a little comforting a few minutes ago, now felt like it was burning his own skin. "Agh!" Michael exclaimed, grabbing his head. "Breath! Breath! Fuck!" He ordered himself, but his lungs weren't cooperating.
You can't even breath right, you're so fucking pathetic! People can probably hear you hyperventilating from outside, they're gonna think you're jacking off in a bathroom at a halloween party! Jenna Rolan was just outside this door, and you know how she is! She's probably recording your breakdown and she's gonna post it online and your life is OVER.
❝Now I'm just...
Michael in the bathroom. Michael in the bathroom. At a party. Forget how long it's been. I'm just, Michael in the bathroom.
Michael in the bathroom at a party.
No, you can't come in! ❞
How long has it been? How long has it been since Jeremy left him in here to rot? How long has it been since Jenna knocked on the door? It felt like centuries long. He couldn't think straight. His brain felt like it was closing in on him.
He glanced at the door. Any moment, somebody could come in. He locked the door, right? God, how fucking stupid can he be to forget to lock the door before having a mental breakdown?!
Do you even know what you look like right now?! You're in the BATHTUB, CRYING, SWEAT ALL OVER YOUR FACE, LOOKING LIKE YOU'RE FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH. If anybody caught you like this, god, if RICH or JAKE caught you like this, they'd hang you!
THEY'D HANG YOU!
He couldn't control his breathing anymore so he focused on something else. His hands. He rubbed them together, hoping to create some sort of friction that can distract his mind from collapsing. He massaged his palm, it didn't work. His hands just felt like ice.
You look so pathetic.
...Focus on something else. That half used bar of soap. Which store did they buy that from? How about that tube of toothpaste? It looked like it doesn't have any left, why not try squeezing it?
Michael's shaky hands hovered over to the tube. He slowly began to squeeze, harder and harder until there was nothing left. He watched as the remaining drops of toothpaste dripped down to the drain.
Focus on something else.
Look at the tiles on the wall.
Pick at the grout.
Michael's hand made it's way to the wall. His nails begun to scrape the lining on the tiles, flakes of white grout flicking out of his nails.
❝I'm waiting it out till it's time to leave,
And picking at grout, as I softly grieve.
Oh, I'm just Michael, who you don't know!
Michael flying solo, Michael in the bathroom by himself! Oh, by himself!❞
Yeah, that's right. Who do you think is gonna rescue you here? Do you even have any other friends? You don't! So what are you gonna do? Call your moms? Have them running through the house party to pick up their stupid, good for nothing son who's crying in the bathtub?
He felt his eyes begin to burn. His throat felt like it was trying to swallow a bowling ball. His teeth were clenched, his lips were quivering. Everything felt hazy.
❝I am hiding— but he's out there, just ignoring all our history.
Memories get erased, then I'll get replaced with a newer, cooler, version of me.❞
Jeremy sucked for doing this to him.
Why would he suck? You were the one being annoying, you were the one who bothered him up to the point that he even called you a LOSER TO MAKE YOU SHUT UP. If anything, you're the one that sucks!
❝And I hear a drunk girl, sing along to Whitney through the door. I wanna dance with somebody!❞
The girl's voice seeped in through the bathroom walls. Michael laughed through his dry heaving, but it was gone as soon as it came.
Why are you laughing? Yeah, it's funny, but it would be funnier if Jeremy was here to listen and laugh with you, right? But now he isn't! And it's all your damn fault for FUCKING IT ALL UP AGAIN!
❝And my feelings sink, cause it makes me think, now there's no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore!❞
❝Now it's just—!
Michael in the bathroom.
Michael in the bathroom at a party.
I half regret the beers.❞
He felt the alcohol going through his system. Mixed with the panic attack, it now felt like a burning, bubbling mess in his stomach, and it did NOT feel good. He picked himself up and hastily scrambled over to the sink. The room was spinning.
God, seriously Michael? You're not going to throw up at a party, are you? Y'know, it would be okay if you actually got drunk with people, but this? Throwing up because of a panic attack? This is just.... so fucking pitiful.
He hunched over.
❝Michael in the bathroom, Michael in the bathroom at a party. As I choke back the tears.❞
Finally, the tears begun to fall. The water drained down all the bile in the sink, and Michael gripped the sides of the sink as hard as he could. The room was spinning. He could feel the electric music bursting through the walls from the bass speakers. Every beat was like a hammer to his skull.
His head was being tortured with waves of pain, his skin was ice cold and burning at the same time, his vision was blurry and his insides felt like hell.
❝I'll wait as long as I need, till my face is dry, or I'll just blame it on weed, or something in my eye! Oh, I'm just Michael, who you don't know! Michael flying solo! Michael in the bathroom by himself!❞
How was he going to explain this to his moms? His moms were scarily good at noticing if he was recently crying, since his eyes swelled up a lot if he cried. So his eyes alone were a dead giveaway. But he'd rather admit he was using drugs rather than admit he was crying.
His moms had gone through so much already, he wasn't about to add more to that. He was already a burden.
*KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.*
Michael stopped.
He turned to the door.
His eyes widened in fear.
They're gonna start to shout soon.
*KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.*
"Aw, hell yeah, I'll be out soon!" Michael called out, his voice shaking so much he could barely get the first word out.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The knocks persisted. It didn't seem like it was going to end. "Fuck..!" Michael whispered to himself. How was he going to explain this to the people outside?! What were they going to say?! He couldn't just waltz right out without them seeing! What was he going to do? Should he open the door? How many more insults were they gonna throw at him? He can barely even stand, let alone walk!
Michael landed on the floor next to the bathtub. His mind was racing with anxious thoughts, his heartbeat racing faster. His own thoughts clouded his mind. He didn't even hear the voice outside. It was drowned out by the angered voices in his head.
YOU'RESOFUCKINGPATHETICYOUREGOINGTOBEALONEUNTILTHEDAYYOUDIE
YOUSHOULDBURYYOURSELFALIVEANDNEVERWAKEUPYOURESUCHADISRACE
YOUDONTDESERVEYOURMOTHERS—Fire! Dude, is anyone in there?! There's a fire! Are you in there?!— Shit, i think somebody's in there! A FIRE BROKE OUT! OPEN THE DOO—YOUDESERVETOBURN
YOUPATHETICLITTLEWHINEYBITCH! LOSER!FREAK!WEIRDO!NERD!UGLY!STUPID!
It sucks he left me here alone.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The knocking quickened. Michael clamped his hands on his head. "Shut up. Shut up, shut up shut up!" He yelled, closing his eyes tightly, trying to block out the noise. It worked.
Michael couldn't hear anything from outside.
Here in this teenage battle zone.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
I feel the pressure blowing up.
BANG BANG BANG BANG
My big mistake was showing up.
SPLASHSPLASHSPLASHSPLASH
The water was cold against his face, however, it did make him ease up. This was a trick his mom taught him when he felt anxious. Cold water always helped in a way, even a small bit, and it made his lungs clear up.
He turned to the door.
The knockings stopped. The voices stopped. Did they leave?
I throw some water on my face! And I am in a better place, I go to open up the door, but I can't hear knocking... anymore.
Of course they left. Probably couldn't stand waiting. People knew, right? That he was in there? Jeremy probably told them.
The outside was silent. Michael could hear shoes running away from the door.
Everybody always ran away from him.
And I can't help but yearn... for a different time.
How did things end up like this?
Only a week ago were they beating Level 9. They were eating chili fries at the mall. How did his life plummet this quickly?
Michael took a step back. He looked towards the mirror. His face was wet from the water, his eyes were puffy and red with tears. His hair was messy and he just had the most pissed off, panicked, sad look on his face.
He looked so...pitiful. A loser. Just like Jeremy said.
And then I look in the mirror, and the present is clearer, and there's no denying, I'M JUST—!
Jeremy was right.
He never thought a day would even come where Jeremy would call him that word. That word, the one that bonded them, gave them something in common. It had a bittersweet meaning to it. They'd often used the term against each other when they were teasing each other, or when they were fighting over Apocalypse of the Damned.
But there was a huge difference between the Jeremy who had pizza stains all over his mouth, the one who was laughing while calling him a loser— and.. the other Jeremy that hissed out the word with so much spite, glaring at him with unrecognizable blue eyes.
This is a heinous night.
There was another thing he asked [insanelycoolJK] about the SQUIP. He asked about something Jeremy said before he pretended like Michael didn't exist.
Optic Nerve Blocking.
What did that mean?
-
[crystalpepsi]: Sorry for bothering you again dude, but I have to ask... did your brother ever mention something about optic nerve blocking?
[insanelycoolJK]: ...did your friend say that to you?
[crystalpepsi]: Yeah. It was the last thing he said to me before he started ignoring me
[insanelycoolJK]: I don't know much about squips, but after doing some research on it, i found out some stuff. And you should probably find better friends, dude.
Michael frowned, staring at the screen. What did that mean?
[crystalpepsi]: ?
[insanelycoolJK]: Optic Nerve Blocking. It's when a squip has the ability to block out a person or object from their possessor's field of vision. Whoever said that to you ordered their squip to remove you from their line of sight.
I wish I'd stayed at home in bed, watching cable porn.
Michael would have rather been anywhere else than his current situation. He could be laying in bed, playing video games. He could be eating microwaved pizza while singing along to crappy commercials on TV. He could be doing anything else— god how he wished he was anywhere else rather than this stuffy, suffocating bathroom.
Jeremy literally erased him from his life. Willingly. With no hesitation. When he said those words to him and just walked right past, Michael was confused.
His confusion turned into frustration as the day went on forward. Why wasn't he looking at him?!
And Jeremy would never know how it felt. To be ignored by the only person who you cared about. To truly feel alone for the first time in years. Jeremy might say they were both losers, but Michael didn't care, because Jeremy was enough for him.
Even if Jeremy didn't feel the same way.
Michael had calmed down. He was sat on the cold, wet floor with his back to the bathtub. He was calm. He wasn't crying, he was just... staring off into space.
He was quiet.
But his mind was louder than ever.
You just lost your best friend. Your only friend. You just lost the one who you promised to never let go. You lost him.
And now you're alone.
Wallowing in your own self pity. You don't deserve to pity yourself. This is your fault. You already knew Jeremy was sick of you, why are you trying to make it seem like he even remotely cared about you?
I have a better idea.
Since you're dead to your ex-best friend, and your moms probably wouldn't care if you dissapeared, why don't you just...
Then, Michael noticed.
He noticed the rising temperature. The room that had only felt stuffy a while ago now felt like it was boiling hot.
Frowning in confusion, he stood up. He touched the doorknob but instantly recoiled— it was burning to the touch.
Then it all came back. Those frantic knocks from earlier. They weren't taunts, they weren't pissed off yells from people who were lining up to use the bathroom.
They were shouts of desperation.
A fire broke out.
Michael couldn't go outside. It was already burning through the door almost. He looked around. There was nothing in here that could help him live.
.
.
Did he even want to live?
"Or wish I'd OFF MYSELF INSTEAD...."
There's nothing he can do anymore.
"WISH I WAS NEVER BORN...."
What more did he have to lose?
HE'S JUST MICHAEL, who's a loner! So he MUST be a stoner! Rides a P.T Cruiser, GOD, HE'S SUCH A LOSER!
Yeah.
Let's just stay here.
Michael sat back down by the bathtub, as the smoke slowly poured in from under the door.
He smiled.
All you know about me is my name.
Awesome party.
I'm so glad I came.