Chapter Text
The Author opened her computer, settling into a more comfortable position on the coach. Booting up the home screen and signing in, she opened up her writing document, mentally preparing for another hour of searching for the right words to write.
Writing is hard. She smiled as she remembered a line from the book Be More Chill, a line that went something like, “Writing a book is easy. Anyone could do it.” She had a soft spot for the book, after finding the musical online.
She remembered it vividly, for some reason. She was listening to “Beautiful” from Heathers the Musical, and an animatic for the song “A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into” by Szin popped up on her autoplay. She frowned. It was from a musical called Be More Chill, which she knew nothing about except from the annoying fanart that popped up on Pinterest. Jeremy and Michael? Something about a bathtub? And a techno squid? What?
She had clicked on the song and watched it in its entirety. When the song ended, with an Asian girl with short hair saying, “Jake!” and the horrified expression of a boy wearing an Eminem shirt doing an Office Take into the camera, she was vaguely intrigued, in the way that the overstimulation of the Always Awake Internet catalyzed a person’s reaction.
So she found an animatic for the first song, called “More Than Survive”, whatever that meant. It was by a person called Claudia Cacace. She hit play.
From that moment on- not to be dramatic- her life was never the same again.
And that’s why the author opened a new tab, a story about two boys falling for each other. She hoped it’s funny, because she had realized that her writing limitations were light-hearted banter and not much else.
The tab suddenly shut down, and the Author frowned. That’s weird; she was bad at technology, but usually her tabs didn’t commit seppuku on her.
An electric current ran through her, and she held back a shriek. What the hell? This was why she doesn’t watch scary techno movies, she was living one right now--
Her screen started buzzing, static flickering across the display, and she could only stare in fascination. Did it seem to be turning…? Transparent? Yes, that was it. If she didn’t know better, she would describe as a window, maybe a window to another place, but that was stupid, because technology didn’t do that. Except apparently hers did as of now, at least.
Shady figures appeared on the other side, moving around. She heard yelling; thumps and crashes accentuating the dark room.
“Ow! Why is the room dark?”
“I tripped over something!”
“That’s because it’s my foot, dumbass!”
“Rich?”
“Jake?”
“Jeremy?”
“MICHAEL? What the hell’s going on?”
“Christine? Jenna?”
“Obviously, Brooke, don’t be a dumbass-”
“Don’t speak to Brooke that way-”
“Shut UP, Chloe, I can defend myself--”
No, it can’t be, the Author thought to herself. Let there be light! She turned up her screen brightness, fingers shaking with anticipation. The room gradually illuminated, revealing eight sweaty teenagers in various states of disarray around the room.
Silence fell in the room, and the Author’s stomach turned as she recognized where she was looking into. Something she had read and described in numerous fanfictions, fanart, and the musical itself.
“Michael,” Jeremy Heere said tentatively, “Why are we in your basement? And, more importantly, why is there a girl staring at us through your television?”