Be More Chill- Lost Boy

Prologue: Goodbye, Love

WARNINGS: Heavy suicide mention; Death mention; Bullying and Harassment mention; Homophobia
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JUNE 6TH, 1983
11:26 P.M.

It was just like waking up from a long nap. Groggy disorientation flooded the young boy's senses as his eyes slowly creaked open, and his entire body felt like it was made of lead, like he had been caught in the midst of the hell that was sleep paralysis. He had a strong suspicion that he might have been until he found himself able to painstakingly rise into a sitting position, which allowed him to survey the dark and remotely foggy room.

The area was strikingly familiar, with its walls formed of wood paneling and the floor coated with rough, dark green carpeting, but there was very little light to aid his sight; the lone light source on the ceiling was turned off, and so the only glimmer of anything came from rays of moonlight shining through a small, rectangular window on the top of one of the walls. Due to this, he could quickly identify that he was in a basement, and, despite the low level of light, he could tell that the room was completely barren barring him. He didn't understand because he seemed to recall that basements were typically used for storing items that people didn't have room for in the core of their house, which was an odd thing to be concerned about, especially considering he had no clue how he had arrived in this empty, sad-looking place.

He rose from the floor and stood on his own two feet, scanning every inch of the room with his eyes for some sort of inkling of where this might be. The inability to pinpoint the familiarity was beginning to drive him a little crazy, like someone repeatedly poking his arm and going "Hey, hey, hey" without actually informing him on what they wanted his attention for. It was on the tip of his tongue, but not quite at the same time, and he could never stand it when this happened.

His question was answered rather quickly, however, when he noticed thumbtacks in the wall, thumbtacks that had little bits of posters still pinned to the wall where the image they had held up had been violently ripped away rather than carefully taken down. Images came flooding back to him of one of his worst episodes ever, a time in which he spent a solid two hours uncontrollably sobbing and making impulsive decisions, vandalizing pictures of himself and tearing some of his favorite posters off of their tacks. He had injured his hand by accidentally taking it too far and punching a mirror, which finally brought him down to reality, even if he did regret the faint scars the broken glass had left on his right hand. That was the day his car was tagged with threats and homophobic slurs, when he was ganged up on by some of the biggest douchebags his school had to offer, when the principal had essentially told him and his mothers to go cry about it, that there was nothing that could be done and that it might have been a benefit to Michael if he were to change schools because a gay boy and Middleborough's students just didn't mix well. He had sat there in both physical and emotional pain as he was invalidated even further, sent into an emotional whirlwind beyond the brink of being capable of handling the harassment. That was also the day he made the decision to...

Horrible thoughts and feelings crossed his mind as even more memories came flooding back from a time he didn't want to remember, memories of substances mixing that had no business being together, memories of him realizing that something was very wrong, however intentionally so, memories of him actually coming to fear the end as it came closer and closer, memories of darkness coming over him as one of his mothers came into his room to tell him dinner was ready, memories of her screams of terror and grief as she realized what was transpiring before her very eyes. These were the last things he remembered before right now.

He fell to his knees in utter shock and disbelief. There was no way that could have been real, because he was here, wasn't he? He was in his room, awake and alert, albeit confused as hell, and there was absolutely no way he had actually gone through with anything like that.