fucking with our lovers' heads

Prologue

Here we are!! This chapter's pretty short. I mean. VERY short. But don't worry, the rest are longer, I promise.

Michael

Boyf_

Michael blinks, actually reaching out to touch the screen. Boyf_. It's a weird username, a short username...

A coincidence?

It could be.

It could absolutely be a coincidence. In fact, what are the odds of it not being a coincidence? In a gaming tournament that spans the whole country?

But it doesn't feel like a coincidence. Michael's heart skitters in his chest, his fingers suddenly sweaty around the mouse. Even the dash, indicating it's only half of a word... as if the other half of the word is somewhere out there, written in thick, non-washable sharpie on someone's backpack.

Or something.

Someone is saying Ready, Set, Go, along with the words flashing on the screen, but Michael is frozen.

And there he is, this video-game girl, curvy as fuck in this super-tight suit and pointing a gun straight at Michael's chest, Boyf_ hovering right over her head in white letters.

Boom.

Dead.

"What the hell?" Michael's team leader hollers in his ear. "The hell was that, Marsh?"

The others are yelling at him too, a guy they call Ro, and a girl they call Lee—" Why'd you freeze," and "fuck you, Marsh."

Michael's screen name is Marshmello. It feels like something that belongs to him, but it is subtle enough that Jeremy won't recognize it, if they ever end up playing together. Or against each other.

Not that Michael's ever really thought about that.

"Just, uh... just keep playing. You can still make it." They only became a team to win this tournament, and Michael should be thinking about how they'll compensate for the loss of his player this game; if they'll make it to the next round—but all he can think of is how Jeremy used to choose those girl characters, the ones that would probably be hot if Michael liked girls.

Just—the chances! What are the chances, right?

"Fuck! Are you going to tell us why you froze?"

"Nah," Michael watches what he can see beyond the You Died sign. Watches Boyf_ dart in and out of the screen, the way he hides behind buildings longer than he needs to, the way he ducks instinctively every time he gets shot at instead of dodging or running or firing back. That kid, he thinks. That kid fights like Jeremy. It has been nearly a year since he's talked to Jeremy at all, let alone played with him, but Jeremy has had reflexes like that for years. "Let me get back to you on that one."

Boyf_ gets shot in the chest—he stands, indecisive for too long, and reacts too late. A very Jeremy move.

"Sorry." Michael flicks through the participants. "Gotta go."

He types out a message. What's your discord?

Thanks for reading!! Back with musicals content as promised.

             —tigerlilycorinne