BMC Oneshots

Ouch Pt.1

Starts near the end of MITB btw
Hella angsty yall I live for that shit

Michael sniffled and wiped away his final tears. He could be independent, he didn't need Jeremy.

He could be just fine on his own. Why would he need Jeremy anyways, Jeremy clearly moved on, so Michael could too!

Afterall, he was just the biggest loser in school...without any friends to talk to...or people to hang out with...yeah, he could handle himself just well. (Honestly mood)

Michael let out a sudden laugh, an empty, painfilled laugh.

"God, I was so dependent on Jeremy, I was probably just a bother. No wonder he doesn't want to hang out with me anymore, I'm just a loser who holds him back anyways," Michael muttered to himself, burying his head in his knees.

Now, Michael wouldn't call himself depressed. Now and then he would have sad spells but Jeremy was usually there to help him through it. Now that Jeremy was gone, he was left to his thoughts and he never truly realized how toxic they could be until he listened to them.

He could admit, however, he did have some attachment issues with Jeremy and he really couldn't blame himself for it.

Jeremy was his only best friend for 12 years. He used to be close friends with Rich until Rich changed and left Michael behind.

Just like Jeremy did.

Michael felt more tears roll down his cheeks as he relapsed on memories he had of his two friends. What else could he do anyways?

He blamed himself for their fallout, his and Rich's, like he always did and sighed, getting up.

He wasn't invited and felt the need to leave, he had no more reason to be there anyways.

However, when he went to touch the knob, he pulled his hand away and hissed at the stinging heat from it.

Confused, Michael placed his hand on the door.

"That's really warm..." Michael mumbled, fear beginning to course through him.

He pulled his hand away and focused on the sounds he heard as he placed his ear gently on the door.

Screams and the crackling of fire.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck." (my life in a sentence)

Michael backed away from the door in a panic as smoke started to seep in from the bottom of the door.

He looked around the bathroom.

No windows. No way to escape. (Yeet sorry not sorry)

He could try to open the door and make a run for it? But if the doorknob was already that hot then there's no telling where the fire is at this point.

He slowly backed away into the wall farthest from the door, starting to cough.

He slid to the ground in an attempt to keep out of the smoke and noticed the sliver from the bottom of the door. The raging colors of red, orange, and yellow flaring out in multitudes of directions.

He knew he couldn't escape, this was it. He accepted his fate faster than he should've.

He pulled out his phone, and with shaky hands dialed the number of Jeremy. Why? Because he knew Jeremy wouldn't answer and would listen to the voicemail far after the fire was over, whether Michael was dead or not.

As expected, the monotone voice of the voicemail placed and Michael took a shaky breath, coughing every once in a while.

"H-hey Jer, I don't know where I'll be w-when you listen to t-this, but I w-wanted to s-say sorry for being a t-terrible friend. Tell m-my moms I love t-them and that I'm sorry for not being s-strong...and I l-love you..." the voicemail cut off and Michael dropped the phone, letting out a choked sob.

His coughing became uncontrollable as the room filled up with the smoke and the fire started eating away rapidly at the door.

He felt his eyes shut as his phone vibrated near by and rang.

It rang and rang until it stopped as the flames spewed into the bathroom, eating at it.

(1) Missed call from Jer-Bear.