2 months later..
"Calum.. c'mon bud. you haven't left in almost a month. come have dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
A soft sigh could be heard from behind the door along with heavy footsteps slowly fading away. The tired boy was also fading away into slumber.
He hadn't slept due to the endless thoughts and migraines he's developed over the month. His skin is either too hot or too cold. His posture is gotten so bad from hunching over as he sat against the wall fighting a battle for sleep he knows he wants. He often felt hands tug on his skin and demand him to lay down but he refuses. It had become too much of a habit so just sit there and stare at nothing. He's beginning to see all sorts of lights and shapes float around him. He knows what they are because they're from the game he has long abandoned inside his computer. All of the files, mods, and setups lay lonely with layers of dust and unread messages left behind. They don't bother him anyway because he has the messages in the game on mute. The constant ring of messages and friend requests now sound lovely when they're ignored.
Bo-bing.
There hasn't been anything that has interrupted his train of thought in such a long time. Calum's tired eye shot open at the faint sound.
He knows that sound. He knows it too damn well.
He only has 4 friends on it and 3 of them are too busy to skype or are unavailable and left abandoned as the teen did to the game.
It couldn't be..
Michael.
Michael was online. Calum felt his throat start to close in as he chokes on the shortness of breath. His fingers itch to reach out and type a message but his body won't let him. He can't. He feels to tired to move from his sunken position against the wall. Minutes, hours pass when he finally gathers the strength to type..
-Michael?|
Michael?
Michael?|
Michael?
Michael?|
Michael?
Michael?|
Michael?
-Calum. (1:12)
he wrote first.
he wrote first.
hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrotefirst.hewrote
-yeah? (1:14)
-i can't feel (1:15)
-what? (1:15)
-calum i tried. i'm trying and i just can't anymore (1:17)
-michael you aren't serious (1:18)
-i love you, okay? (1:36)
-michael! (1:37)
michael c'mon (1:37)
hello? (1:39)
michael? (1:46)
i love you too (1:23)
~
Dear journal,
Today is September 15, 2017, a beautiful day in Sydney, Australia and it couldn't get better. It's been exactly 2 years since talking to Michael and i haven't forgotten him. I still think of him a lot.. what could've happened. He was everything to me. It's time to move on now, the tears no longer come. Wherever he is.. i hope he's smiling. I still remember how when he did, he would nibble his lip and crinkle his eyes. I miss him. A ton but it's time that i give my thanks to him for letting me in. I wasn't in all the way but i'm thankful he ever let me try and i couldn't be more proud of him.
As for the game.. well.. I guess all that game ever was a suicide room.
Thank you, Michael.
