Michael In The Bathroom

I Am Hanging In The Bathroom

[TRIGGER WARNING: Depictions of self-harm and suicide]

Michael stared at himself in the mirror, "Fucking loser..." He lets out a breath of air and leans against the counter, slowly letting himself sink to the floor and hug himself.

He sighs and lets his legs stretch out, dropping his arms, "To think I....I loved him..." He starts to talking to himself, "I loved him.....I loved him, I loved him......" He trails off, staring down at his lap.

"I still love him..." He lets out a sigh, "But...he doesn't love me..." He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and just sitting there for a moment.

He gets up, opening the drawers and sifting through them until he found what he was looking for. A razor. He closes the drawers, sitting down and rolling his sweater sleeves up. He caught a glimpse of one of the patches on his sweater, pausing to look at it.

Jeremy had given it to him. It was a controller with the words "Player Two" carefully stitched into it. Jeremy had made it himself. He let out a sad chuckle at the memory, "Who knew you were so good at making patches...."

He sighs and rips the patch off, staring down at it before letting it slip out of his hands and watching it slowly fall to the ground. He finishes rolling his sleeves up, staring down at his bare arms.

He stares at the razor before bringing it to his skin, mumbling softly, "He loves me.." He slowly cut into his wrist, watching the blood start to seep out. A drop of blood drips from his wrist and falls to the floor, landing on the little controller patch Jeremy had made. He presses the razor to the skin just below the previous cut, "He loves me not..."

He continued doing just that. He continued doing that til every inch of his forearm was bleeding. He stared, watching the blood fall, staining his clothes.

~*[Meanwhile]*~

Jeremy had finally come to his senses, searching through the crowd of drunken teenagers in a desperate attempt to find Michael.

He walked up to a somewhat sober looking Rich, quickly asking him if he knew the whereabouts of his best "friend". Let's face it, they all knew he was more than that. I mean, not in the gay way hah a.

Rich nods, "Yeah, he came up to me a while ago and asked where the bathroom was. I told him it was on the second floor. He was actin' kinda odd.."

Jeremy nods, his fears growing. Okay, Jeremy, all you have to do is get to the second floor bathroom. He should be there.

"Jeremy, forget him." The squip's voice commanded. Jeremy fights against the squip, rushing up to the bathroom.

He slammed the door open, freezing at the sight of his best friend, "Michael?!"