Calmly || Be More Chill

Michael Set A Fire

Rumors had been spread all around school. Most saying the same thing: Rich set a fire at the Halloween party and he burned down the house. All because he was gay, but now he was dead so it didn't matter.

I personally hadn't cared because after that party, I went home and started a new fire in me. And not the good kind.

"Let's get freaky," I yelled upon entering the house. My voice echoed against the empty walls of my empty house. I made my way to my room, not in the mood to get stoned or play video games. Especially without Jeremy.

Getting changed into a shirt and boxers so I could cry my pitiful self to sleep, I noticed the old scars up and down my arms. I scowled at them in disgust. Stopping to a level so low as to hurt myself intentionally wounded my dignity. But at the time, I thought of how relieving it felt when I did it before. Still, putting three years of being clean to waste would not feel good.

I needed to stop. I needed to forget about it, I didn't need it.

As I wept loudly, eyes drooping shut from eventual fatigue, I couldn't help but long for the feeling I had gotten three years ago for that "flame." Deep down inside, I knew the fire was rekindling.

Going to school was the same. Walk down the halls, ignore eye contact, go to class, avoid eye contact, see Jeremy, try not to cry. And it's extremely embarrassing, because I know my parents love me. I know there are people in this world who do love me. But with Jeremy gone it was kind of hard to see that light.

In my math class, I was already two lessons ahead, so that gave me an advantage. Taking my opportunity to leave I raised my hand.

"May I go to the bathroom?" The gruff man who I called my teacher nodded and I left quickly, pulling down my sleeves subconsciously.

After math was lunch, and guess who stopped me on my trek to the cafeteria. Jeremy Heere, of course.

I groaned internally at the sight of the Squip infested Jeremy, the boy would probably mock me or push me again. Or better yet, call me a loser. "What do you want from me, Squip?"

Jeremy looked flustered, "No no no no no no no no. He's-he's asleep right now, I just wanted to ask you a-a question." In place of every stutter was a hiccup, I took notice of the dazed look in his eyes.

"Are you drunk?"

He shook his head frantically, "That doesn't matter right now. Are they true, did you start again?"

I scowled at him, an angry expression taking over my face immediately. "You don't get to ask that. You don't get to ask anything. So, just... leave me alone, okay?"

I didn't give Jeremy a chance to answer as I sped off, knowing very well that the rumors consisted of me and a certain "flame." Surprisingly, it had quickly taken over the "Rich set a fire and he burned down the house dilemma."