Archive of Our Own

Michael was cruising along at a casual eighty kilometres per hour, wearing his favourite red button up shirt and listening to his favourite CD when it happened.

One moment he’d been idly scratching the back of his neck, thinking about what he’d cook for Gavin that night since the lad wasn’t feeling too well lately, and the next he was slamming on the brakes and yanking the wheel hard to the right, a shocked yell tearing from his throat as the edge of the mountain came up fast.

The car smashed through the crash barrier and over the edge at more than a hundred kilometres per hour, gaining speed as it tumbled down the small mountain. It slammed against a rock and the car was spinning, Michael spinning with it, twisting through the air until the car landed bonnet first onto the ground, crushing Michael’s bodyand knocking him unconscious against the steering wheel.

Darkness and pain.

When he awoke, he wished he hadn’t.

The first thing he was aware of was the pain in his body. The second thing was the buzzing in his ears – deafening and constant; it pulled his attention away from his broken body for a moment as it drowned the world out.

He figured he had a concussion. He returned to the matter at hand.

With a strangled cry he forced his car door open, some miracle allowing him to grab hold and haul himself out, drag himself away from the wreck on some insistent survival instinct: the small voice in his head warning him that it could blow.

He used a tree to try to pull himself into a standing position, and after a minute of swearing and determination he succeeded. It was this that made him realise he had to figure out the damage done to himself, find out how badly he was injured.

So he took a deep breath, looked down, and-

His mind shuttered.

That was the only way to describe it, the only way to describe the way his vision blanked the moment his eyes tried to focus on his body and he was bombarded by black and white flashes that didn’t hurt him but rendered him blind and afraid.

When he came to, he was on the ground, looking up at the sky. Letting out the same shaky breath he’d been holding he put his head in his hands, making sure his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. With every passing second, he wanted to open them less and less.

He didn’t really need to know, did he? If he was walking, he couldn’t be that bad, right?

He remained on the ground for a few more moments before he pulled himself up. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glance of his hand, and for some reason it made him pause.

It took him a momentfor him to understand, for his mind to catch up on what had snagged his attention. His hands seemed clean and undamaged, despite the fact he thought they’d been crushed in the crash-

His mind shuttered again, leaving him grasping his head and on his knees in front of the tree. Unable to remember quite what he’d been thinking about, he lurched to his feet and started taking tentative steps, a little bit scared and very confused.

The quest to safety was put on hold for a moment when when the buzzing in his ears seemed to fade out for a moment, replaced by something that sounded like – sirens? Distant. Very, very distant, but –

No. They were around him. They were right on top of him, surrounding him, and he was tied to a bed and someone was leaning over him with a mask-

Back at the tree again, Michael collapsed, gasping for breath. Reaching a shaky hand up, he tried to the sweat out of his eyes, but it didn’t seem to help clear the odd haze covering them. He was having horrific flashbacks, he decided. But his mind was warping them, maybe because the concussion was rendering his memory inaccessible so he was using the closest things he could think of.

He realised the sirens were gone, thankfully, the pain gone with them, but instead of relief a small (getting smaller) rational part of his mind pointed out this wasn’t normal. He swallowed nervously; the loud buzzing in his ears had resumed its former song.

Coughing, Michael felt around his body for his phone, assuming it must still be in his pocket where it had been, but it wasn’t. Frowning, he realised he must have lost it in the confusion.

But he knew he had to call somebody. An ambulance.Gavin.The only problem was, not having a phone made things slightly more difficult. However, all things considered, he didn’t feel too bad. He felt he could make the trek to a stop nearby – he wasn’t that far out of town when he crashed, was he?

He had been, and he knew it. He was at the bottom of the mountain, nowhere near where he needed to be. Hopelessness drowned him and he fell to his knees, distantly wondering why it didn’t hurt so much when-

Agony. So much of it, his entire body hurt and the sirens were back and there were voices around him, and he could feel every ounce of his being burning in pain and there was something on his face pushing air into his lungs-

On his knees again, he certainly felt the pain now, but with every moment that passed it seemed phantom, fading from his body and mind. It must be the adrenaline kicking in, numbing him to it. He couldn’t say he was complaining. It would only make his trek easier.

Glancing up, he suddenly realised he was at the top of the mountain, and he could see the entrance to his town from here, incredibly close. He must have been walking without realising, or something. He did have a concussion, right?

Shaking the oddness of it from his mind, he approached the town with one goal in his mind – Gavin. He was stepping towards one of the main streets when he felt the Earth tilt and everything was sucked away from him, blackness rushing in to take its place. His heartbeat was failing steadily, the thumping slowing in his chest – stuttering, starting and stopping, and all of a sudden he realised he couldn’t feel it at all anymore.

The darkness had almost overwhelmed him completely when Michael felt the phantom weights settle on each side of his chest.

He must be having a heart attack. It was all his shocked and fading mind could dredge up, except there weren’t any pains in his arms or difficulty breathing the only problem was that everything was black and his heart had stopped-

Zap.

He tried to scream but nothing came out. The two phantom weights on his chest had electrocuted him, causing an agony that reached deep into his heart and-

Zap.

What the fuck was happening? He couldn’t-

(Clear!)

Zap.

The light came back, so much brighter than he remembered, pure white and beauty tinged with the sounds of someone crying.

Michael woke up, gasping for breath and terrified. After glancing around the room and making sure he was back where he should been, alive and perfectly fine in his bed, he collapsed back down in relief.

He tried to steady his trembling hands and failed, instead settling for taking a hot shower he never really felt and drinking a coffee he never really tasted.

He dressed himself slowly, never stopping to wonder where his favourite red shirt went, and couldn’t bring himself to eat. With a heart filled equally with nerves and apprehension that he couldn’t explain he drove to the offices, listening to his second favourite CD and wondering why the songs he was listening to weren’t the ones he wanted to sing.

When he arrived he pushed the door open and greeted Kara, a smile on his face. Something struck him as odd, exactly what he didn’t know, and it wasn’t until he settled into his familiar chair at his familiar desk that realised there were no familiar sounds around him, just that steady, deafening buzz from his… dream.

Swallowing down the fear that rose in him he greeted Geoff, greeted Ray, greeted Jack and Ryan and Kerry and Gavin and smiled at them all, smiled at them to hide the relief he felt when they all smiled back and didn’t ask any questions, not that he knew what they’d be asking questions about.

He didn’t question why Geoff’s arms looked a little blurry. He didn’t question why the room looked different, as if something- maybe a few things - were missing, but he just didn’t know what. He didn’t question it, relieved just to be home and not be having horrific fucking nightmares he would probably remember for the rest of his life.

He just carried on his day, not having any recording to do; only editing. He found he could do that, and when he edited a rage quit he’d done the week prior and handed Jack an empty USB he felt successful.

The day seemed to blur, time speeding and slowing, and it was towards the end of the day he realised nobody had spoken a word to him since this morning. He turned to complain when Gavin spoke up.

‘So, how’s your day?’ he asked, and Michael felt a surge of relief. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and replied.

‘Not bad,’ he tried, and it wasn’t the whole truth. ‘Busy.’ He remarked weakly, and Gavin seemed to see right through it, simply smiling curiously at him and turning away.

The next day went much the same. 

He woke up, performed menial tasks, brushed his hair and his teeth. He glanced twice at his wardrobe, wondering what seemed odd about it, and shrugged it off before leaving.

He arrived at work and greeted everyone. He smiled nervously and didn’t wonder why Kara sounded funny. He edited a rage quit he vaguely remembered recording last week and didn’t record anything new, and the day sped by until it was almost leaving time and he realised nobody had spoken to him again. Again, the thought had barely occurred when Gavin tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Hey,' he croaked.

‘Hello, boi.’ Gavin smiled at him.

Michael worked up the energy to smile back. ‘How've you been?’ he croaked, and curiosity flickered across his mind as to why he couldn’t seem to talk.

‘Good, yeah, ’ Gavin replied, scratching his neck. ‘Where’s your red shirt? We were gunna match today.’

So that’s what’s wrong with my wardrobe. It’s not there, it got burned up in the crash-

And Michael shuttered.

‘Good.’ Gavin replied, scratching his neck. ‘You don’t look so well, my little boi. You should go home and rest.’

Michael woke up, brushed his teeth and brushed his hair, skipped breakfast because he felt like he was full even though he hadn’t eaten in God knows how long. He avoided his wardrobe and didn’t wonder why, just picking up the clothes he’d worn… yesterday? And wore them to work.

He greeted Kara andwondered why she sounded funny,because he didn’t realise he was forgetting the sound of her voice.

The ever present buzzing in his ears tormented him all day. He edited a rage quit he’d recorded last week and didn’t wonder why they weren’t recording anything new again, and it didn’t go so long into the day until he realised nobody had spoken to him.

‘Michael.’ Gavin greeted, and Michael felt a small spike in his chest.

‘Gavin,' he replied smoothly. ‘Why are you all ignoring me?’

Gavin looked at him strangely, a half peek from the corner of his eye. Michael watched his throat work as he swallowed heavily. ‘We’re not ignoring you, my boi.’

At this, Michael furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Nobody’s talking to me.’

‘No?’ Gavin asked, sounding odd.

‘You’re the first, and I only just noticed...’

Gavin looked like he was choking on words. ‘Gavin?’ Michael asked, and went to touch him, but something stopped him.

Michael woke up, brushed his hair and his teeth, pulled on a button up shirt that for some reason he wished was red, skipped breakfast and drove to work in silence because he couldn’t seem to pick a song.

Well, almost silence. The buzzing in his ears had never left.

He greeted Kara, and when she just waved and smiled instead of speaking to him he felt a little better, for reasons he couldn’t explain.

After greeting everyone, he decided he was sick of feeling off, with the realization came the decision to bring to Geoff some questions.

And right now, his first question was the one that had been on his mind for a while. ‘Hey,' he started, waiting for Geoff to acknowledge him. After a moment of hesitation, the older man did. 'Did you do something to your arms?’

He squinted at Geoff’s arms but they remained blurred, as if he was looking through a camera and it couldn’t quite come into focus. Geoff froze for a moment, looking like a deer in headlights.

‘Uh, yeah,' he responded, ‘it’s makeup.’

At this Michael nodded, feeling more at ease, not questioning why Geoff would be wearing makeup on his arms. ‘And did we redecorate the room? Because it looks a little different.’

Geoff looked more and more uncomfortable, eyes darting nervously. He cleared his throat. ‘Yeah. We uh… took some stuff down. Posters... and stuff.’

‘That explains it! Thanks Geoff.’

Michael meant it. He could relax now; he wasn’t going insane. He didn’t notice anything odd about the encounter, not a thing, and the fact that this was the first conversation he’d had with anyone outside of the usual greetings went amiss.

When he slept, Gavin spoke to him.

He never really woke up when it happened, but he heard it. It was only ever at night, and he’d started to wonder why he dreamed of Gavin speaking to him.

He’d come too in a room he couldn’t see but could feel, and he was always lying down. He assumed it was his bed. He could hear nothing but the sound of Gavin talking, and he could never move a muscle in any direction.

But Gavin’s voice was soothing and comfortable so he didn’t mind, but sometimes it made him upset how sad he sounded. He couldn’t remember exactly what he said, even though it was pretty similar each night, but he remembered it being sad, and the elegiac feeling haunted him in his awakening.

He wanted to know what Gavin was saying, and why it left him feeling so odd when he woke up.

Michael woke up, brushed his teeth and his hair, skipped breakfast, got dressed and made it all the way out the door and halfway to work before he wondered where his red button up was.

It was an odd thing to think, but it struck him – out of the blue – that he hadn’t seen it for a while. His brain seemed to go fuzzy over it so he figured it must have been too early to think and just kept driving, getting a bit frustrated when he couldn’t find his favourite CD amongst the mess in his glove compartment.

He arrived, greeted Kara and got a smile and a wave, passed through and took his seat in his office. He glanced at the rage quit he’d have to edit – one he’d filmed last week – and briefly wondered when they were going to record the next let’s play.

The thought was dismissed, and the day blurred past until he realised nobody had talked to him.

This time, when Gavin greeted him, he felt uneasy.

‘How come you always do that?’ he questioned, eyebrows scrunching.

‘Do what, little boi?’ Gavin asked. The laugh he gave was nervous at best, and downright fake at worst.

‘Greet me when I realise nobody has… talked to me.’ He paused halfway through, slightly dizzy.

‘Does that happen?’ Gavin asked, and the conversation seemed vaguely familiar.

‘It…’ Michael managed, the room blurring. Gavin started to panic.

‘You’re just imagining things,' he assured. The room straightened slightly, the previous tilt and whirl readjusting. 

‘Am I?’ Michael murmured. Gavin nodded, and for a moment Michael thought he was going to put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, but he didn’t. It struck Michael as odd.

‘Yes.’

Michael peered at him, taking in the slump of his shoulders. ‘Really?’.

Gavin gave him a sad smile. ‘Yes, boi. Now go home and sleep.’

This time when Gavin spoke to him in his dreams, Michael tried his best to hear it.

The voice seemed sadder this time, and Michael strained to ask what was wrong, why he was so sad and was only getting sadder, but he couldn’t force himself to speak.

Michael woke up, brushed his hair and his teeth, skipped breakfast and glared at his wardrobe when he went to pack it.

'Where's my fucking shirt?' he muttered, searching fruitlessly through his room. Truly, it wasn’t anywhere, and something struck him as all too odd about the situation. When he thought about it, really thought about it, he hadn’t seen it since… the other day.

He must have lost it. It’d be in his room somewhere.

With one last stubborn glare, he threw another shirt on and started his drive to work. He arrived, hands clenching the wheel in frustration when he hadn’t found his CD, either. It only served to make him angrier when the faintest of memories reminded him this had happened yesterday, too. But he didn’t remember yesterday. He just…

must be imagining things.

As usual. he greeted Kara, and when she smiled and waved at him he frowned.

‘Hey, Kara,' he greeted again, drawing it out. She looked unnerved. He furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth again, but she held up a pen and notepad and quickly scrawled on it. ‘Lost my voice – sick,’ he read out.

‘Hmm. Shit... sorry.’ He left the room, only slightly reassured.

He greeted Geoff and the whole AH crew, and he barely refrained from mentioning that Jack and Ryan sounded almost identical now, when had that happened? He shrugged and continued to do his work, editing a rage quit he’d filmed last week.

Halfway through, he paused. Frowning, he opened his mouth to ask Gavin a question, the realisation that nobody had spoken to him plaguing him. In tandem, Gavin turned to face him.

‘Hey, Michael,' he said, smiling.

‘Hey, Gavin?’ Michael asked, frowning at his screen.

Gavin’s smile became tight on his face.‘Yes, boi?’

The nickname struck Michael as odd for some reason. Didn’t Gavin have other things to call him?

‘I just… when did I film this rage quit?’

Gavin swallowed. ‘Last week, remember?’

Michael shook his head. ‘No, no, no I didn’t because last week was QWOP and-’ he felt his mind flicker but he held on to the thought, ‘And you and I did it together, I remember, but this one is just me-’

Michael turned to face him, nose scrunching, running that thought over in his brain as he stared at him, and he realised Gavin’s eyes looked kind of… faded, blurred, the colour in them... wrong.

Michael woke up, brushed his hair and his teeth and stared, confused and angry, at his wardrobe for a good few minutes. He didn’t eat, and when he arrived at work and greeted Kara and she just smiled and waved at him he stared at her, too.

He greeted Geoff, Gavin, RayKerryJack or maybe it was Ryan because their faces were starting to fade, and maybe his eyesight was getting blurry because everything seemed a little fuzzier each day.

He stared at the rage quit he recorded last week and wondered why it made his head hurt, and when he realised that nobody had spoken to him and this wasn’t the first time he spun around to face Gavin as Gavin spun around to face him.

Gavin looked surprised. ‘Hey, boi.’ He said. Michael’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

‘Why do you cry in my dreams?’ he demanded, the words bursting from within him.

Gavin blanched. ‘What?’

‘In my dreams. You’re in them, talking to me, and you’re always crying,’ Michael repeated nervously.

Gavin laughed dismissively. ‘You dream about some crazy stuff, Michael.’

‘No- Well yes, but-’

‘It’s just a dream, Michael,’ Gavin said, ‘weird dreams that your mind is conjuring up because you’ve been sick lately.’

Michael stared at him for a long time, the silence between them growing.

‘What?’ Gavin said, shifting, still avoiding Michael’s eye.

‘That’s exactly what I told myself when I woke up this morning,’ Michael said, and the accusation came across clear in his voice. ‘Exactly that wording, in exactly that way.’

Gavin looked like he was about to cry. ‘You’re imagining things. You’re paranoid.’

‘I’m not imagining things!’

Gavin shook his head, backing away a few steps. ‘Michael, you’re scaring me.’

‘Yeah. Maybe you should go home and relax.’ Geoff piped up. Michael looked between him and Gavin, and then at Ray and Jack who nodded their approval.

Michael suddenly felt as if he was missing out on something very important.

‘What’s-’ He stopped when his eyes caught Gavin’s. His eyes were nearly completely white, the windows to his soul as blank as Michael's mind because he couldn't remember.

Michael spun to face Geoff, fear and confusion rising in him, and he realised the same thing was happening to his tattoos. Geoff just smiled at him, shaking his head, and he didn’t say a word but Michael heard something, something from the dark recess of his shattered mind – three words.

You’re not ready.

Michael had never really tried to reach out as much as he did that night. He’d never struggled so hard or screamed so loudly, but it didn’t get him anywhere, because his body never moved and his screams never passed his lips.

And Gavin never knew how hard he tried. He just kept speaking, kept asking things, kept repeating words Michael couldn’t hear and holding his hand and Michael had never felt so hopeless in his life.

Michael woke up, brushed his teeth and his hair, skipped breakfast, avoided his wardrobe and nearly walked to work because for some reason, he was terrified to get in his car.

He greeted Kara with a wave that she returned and entered the AH room, studiously avoided everything, and sat down at his chair. The day blurred past, and when it arrived the time of day that he realised nobody had spoken to him, he barely had time to realise he hadn’t accomplished a single thing, not even edited last week’s rage quit, before Gavin approached him.

Michael woke up the next morning, and he didn’t brush his teeth or his hair. He looked at his breakfast and he wondered why he wasn’t ever hungry, and he realised he hadn’t eaten for a long time. He dressed in his second favourite shirt because he knew his red one was missing, and he drove to work in silence because he knew he wouldn’t hear his favourite song.

He walked into work and straight past Kara with not even a wave. He entered the AH office and looked at the unedited rage quit he’d filmed a long time ago, and he turned away.

When everyone was inside the office he looked at them all, and he saw things he hadn’t seen before, things he hadn’t wanted to see so his mind had censored them for him.

Geoff’s skin on his arms was nearly completely blurred, just vague shapes that were supposed to resemble tattoos he couldn’t remember. Jack and Ryan spoke with the same voice, but now they rarely spoke at all because it made Michael uncomfortable.

Gavin refused to look at him anymore, because Michael couldn’t remember the colour of his eyes.

But he remembered Ray. He’d known him most of his life. Ray was blurry around the chin, where Michael couldn’t remember if he’d shaved or not, but he was the clearest.

He waited till everybody in the room had left again and he asked Ray to come with him.

Ray didn’t.

Michael begged.

Ray did.

Michael pulled him into an abandoned closet, and when he closed the door behind him and turned to face Ray he had a look of desperation on his face that broke Ray’s heart in two.

‘Ray, please,' he begged, with the voice of a broken man. He would have shaken the man by the shoulders if he hadn’t somehow known that was impossible.

Ray just looked at him for a long time, staring at Michael with sad eyes held depths of pain. He checked around them before opening his mouth to speak, his eyes screaming wordless apologies.

‘Sometimes, after a terrifying event like a car accident or rape, the person involved would retreat into a world of fantasy from which they could not wake up.’ His voice cracked and Michael shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He didn’t notice the buzzing in his ears increasing in volume.

‘In this comatose state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they hadn’t been through the event. The mind of the victim would often try to Wake Up the victim by leaving hints around them to realise they were asleep.’

There was a deafening noise above them and the world trembled, and Ray was almost yelling now, raising his voice to be heard above the noise surrounding them and were those tears-

‘Sometimes, even after the victim knew what was going on, they would still refuse to PLEASE, WAKE UP-’

And Michael’s world shattered.

It disappeared in a blanket of white, but it wasn’t what he had seen in the split seconds yesterday. It was peaceful and silent, light shining in around them, and everyone was gathered around him. He looked at them, at the faces he couldn’t remember exactly, and he had that single moment of clarity where he could see the specks of dust standing still as he understood everything.

‘You’re not real,' he whispered to them. They looked at him, with sadness and apologies and love and Gavin and Ray were crying, smiling at him through their tears.

‘You were in a car accident,’ Geoff told him, sadness enveloping his soft tone. ‘Your body was so broken and you were in so much pain that your mind created this to escape from it.’

‘But… I don’t…’ Michael turned to the rest of them, lost, and his gaze settled on Ryan.

‘Everything here has seemed off, hasn’t it?’ Ryan said, his logical side shining through. ‘Missing. Changed.’

‘My shirt,’ Michael said quietly. ‘My CD. Geoff’s tattoos. Kara’s voice.’Gavin’s eyes.

Ryan nodded. ‘You’re beginning to forget.’ Michael felt guilt stab at him, penetrate through the haze of white. ‘But it’s not your fault,’ Ryan assured.

‘Anyone would,’ Jack agreed. ‘But now it’s time to wake up.’

Michael swallowed hard, tears prickling his eyes. ‘What do I do?’ he asked, voice breaking.

Geoff smiled, tears in his own eyes. ‘You get to go home.’

Michael felt a light but insistent tugging, pulling him away from them. ‘But what about you?’

‘We’ll be at home, waiting for you,’ Ray said, and he offered his own teary smile.

‘How do I know? What if you’re not-’ Michael couldn’t finish the sentence, the last half breaking off into a sob.

‘We will be. All of us.’ Ray said.

‘Come home, boi,’ Gavin whispered, ‘we’re waiting for you.’

Michael could feel himself fading. ‘Promise you’ll be there!’ he begged. His voice was fading, and it was an effort to speak.

Geoff nodded in response, and Jack and Ryan stepped up to stand beside him and Ray.

‘We all are,’ Gavin promised, and they disappeared into the whiteness as Michael disappeared into the black.

He didn’t stay in the darkness for long.

Maybe it was his body’s recovery, along with his mind, or maybe it was his pure stubbornness and determination.

But not long after he was left floating alone in the abyss, the first ray of light shone through. Followed by another, and another. Soon he could see a familiar white roof, but for the first time he could move his body.

He flexed his hand gently, and he realised someone was holding it.

‘Michael!’ came the exclamation, and a moment later Gavin Free was in front of him, eyes wide with shock.

Michael managed a small smile. He heard Gavin yelling for a doctor and his eyes tried to close of his own accord, begging more sleep for an already over slept body, but he fought it.

He knew it was worth it when Gavin leaned into his view again, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped Michaels hand as hard as anything.

‘You’re here,’ Michael whispered.

‘Duh,’ Gavin laughed, a tiny laugh, wiping at his tears with his free hand. Michael struggled to ask the question on his mind.

‘Where’s everyone?’ he murmured. Gavin stopped to smile at him for a moment.

‘They’re here, have been ever since the doctors told us you were showing signs of waking up. They’ve been waiting for you.’

A pause, and Gavin leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips before he backed away to let the doctors do their work, hand still clutching tightly to Michael’s.

‘We all have.’