Chapter Text
Michael was fucking fed up. Nothing ever seemed to be going his way anymore. He just didn't understand it. His parents hated him, his friends were nonexistent, his grades were tanking, and he just couldn't catch a break. One day it was particularly bad. On this specific day, Michael had been through the ringer and back. He failed his biology test, he had to hear about the stupid dance for the millionth time, his English teacher yelled at him, someone wrote "loser" on his locker. Jesus, it was like some shitty movie. It couldn't have gotten worse.
Michael went home and slammed the front door shut. He just needed some sleep, he decided.
"MICHAEL!"
Fuck.
His dad had never been good to him. It seemed like today was far from a good day for either of them.
"MICHAEL!"
He hurried to the room his father was in, so as to not anger him more. By the strong scent of alcohol in the room and the way his dad was slurring his words, Michael could tell this was going to end badly.
Thoroughly bruised, Michael ran to his room, shut the door, and locked it. No one could get to him in there. His room was his only sanctuary in a world that made him it's bitch. His father banged on the door for about five minutes, then decided to leave. Michael heard the loud slam of the front door, thankful his father was out of the house. He was finally, truly alone.
Michael stepped in front of the mirror on his closet door to inspect the damage. This had been one of the better times, but it was still awful. He had a black eye and large purple discolorations on his leg and back he was already beginning to see. "Thank god the bottle never broke." Michael thought to himself.
He opened his bedroom window and saw his dad's car was gone.
Finally. Thank Christ, it was over. Michael went back to the mirror to look at himself once more.
"Shit, what am I going to tell the teachers?" He thought. They always asked him about his injuries and he always spewed out a bullshit excuse. He was afraid they were beginning to be suspicious, but he couldn't think of anything just then. He had too much on his mind.
Michael was fucking depressed and he couldn't think of anything better to do than to lay on his bed and cry. He thought out loud to himself, "Why the hell can nothing ever go my way? Why is everyone else always so happy? No body cares for me, no body wants me! No one would even FUCKING CARE IF I WAS GONE!" What began as thoughts was now Michael screaming out in his room. "Why am I never good enough?" He said, tears staining his cheeks.
"WHY AM I NEVER FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH?!?" He repeated, screaming to let out his anger and frustration.
"YOU'RE TIPPY TOP DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE!" Michael heard from outside. At this point it occurred to Michael he left the window open. Great. Another thing he fucked up. Michael wiped his eyes and walked to the window, wondering who was outside and what the hell he was doing. The voice sounded male and different than normal. Michael couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Outside on the sidewalk in front of Michael's house was a lanky, tan boy who looked about the same age as him with unkempt hair and the biggest nose he'd ever seen. Michael knew he'd never talked to him before, but his face looked familiar and he couldn't say why.
"What you on about, mate?" The boy said, watching Michael lean out the second story window. Michael could now tell his accent was clearly that of an English or Australian person, but hell if he knew.
"Uh, did you, uh, hear all that?" Michael asked out the window.
"Just the last bit."
"Well, it's none of your business, is it? Just go on with your goddamn day." Michael had earned a sour look from the boy and slammed the window down. The unexpected interaction left Michael with little to make of it. He sat back down on his bed and put his head in his hands when he heard the doorbell ring. He looked out the window to make sure it wasn't his dad from his car, but luckily it wasn't present and he went downstairs to answer the door.
Before him stood the same boy from before, only this time with a stupid grin on his face which fell when he got a good look at Michael. The bruises on his face were clearly visible and his eyes were red because he'd been crying earlier and the boy could see every bit of it.
"Listen, I told you to screw off." Michael said, wishing to be alone. He had been close to people before and it never ended well, so he stopped attaching.
"Hey, I just wanted to say in sorry for- wait a second, you know what? I'm not sorry. Not in the least." The boy leaned on the door frame.
"You came here. This is none of your concern."
"I just want you to know that I think you're great no matter what you do. Whatever you're getting," the boy looked at Michael's injured eye, "you truly do not deserve it."
He spoke with such sincerity. It was almost as though he knew what it was like. Michael doubted his own thoughts.
"And whatever you've done," the boy continued, "wherever you've been, that doesn't matter. It's not your fault."
Michael was getting a little teary eyed at this but blinked it away.
"Where are you even from, anyways?"
"My family just moved over from England. I was sitting in my room when I heard screaming and came outside."
Ah, so Michael was right. Regardless, this guy had no right to be on his doorstep.
"Can you just... Can you just leave, please?"
"If that's what you want, that's what I'll do, but if you ever need me I'm two doors down." He held his hand out for Michael to shake. "I'm Gavin Free."
Michael was forced by social convention and took Gavin's hand.
"And I'm Michael Jones."
"Nice to meet you, Michael. Don't ever forget that I think your top." Gavin said. He turned around and walked away down the street to his house. Michael shut the front door, marched up to his room and shut the goddamn window.
"What the fuck just happened?"