player one = mgc
summary:
antisocial. introverted. quiet. shy. hermit. socially inept.
he just didn't like people. they didn't get him.
he didn't like leaving his house, not even his room. he didn't like walking out into the world where he couldn't control things. where people judged him. where people told him there was something wrong with him but nobody was willing to help.
social anxiety, they said. that's what you have.
but nobody wanted to help.
he hated the outside world.
so he stayed inside and played video games.
-
"michael, you have to."
"i don't want to."
"i know, honey, but you have to."
he pouted. "what if i was just homeschooled?"
his mother frowned. "you're going to have to leave the house eventually. you can't live in your room forever."
michael buried his head in his pillow. "i bet you i could," he mumbled.
she laughed quietly and sighed. "michael. come on. i don't want you to be late."
he cringed at the thought of walking into class late and having everyone's eyes on him. that'd trigger an attack for sure. "fine," he said reluctantly, forcing himself out of bed and dragging his feet to the bathroom.
his mother ruffled his hair as he passed. "that's my boy."
he sighed.
he hated going outside. they didn't get it. they thought by forcing him to interact more, he'd get better at it.
not likely.
michael changed out of his pajamas into his school uniform, tugging uncomfortably at the tie, and walked out.
his mother was full of her usual encouragement as they drove. "today'll be a good day," she enthused, nodding to herself. "you'll see calum. you like calum, right?"
michael shrugged, looking out the window. just seeing kids walking to school was twisting his stomach into anxious knots. the thought of having to walk around among them, maybe even talk to one of them... he wanted to die.
"and that nice boy, ashton? his mum is lovely. you two would get along nicely. he's a senior this year, you know."
michael wanted to throw up at the idea of talking to an upperclassman. he was a sophomore who had trouble talking to middle schoolers. did his mum really think he'd be talking to a senior?
"have a good day," she said, kissing his cheek.
he took a deep breath and got out of the car, automatically flinching at the barrage of noise. people yelling and laughing and talking and birds chirping and it was windy so there were leaves scraping on the ground and doors opening and closing and lockers slamming and shoes scratching against the floor and there was a faint hum from the lights once he got inside and on top of it all he could hear his heart pounding nervously and his breathing start to quicken and his vision was already narrowing no no no no he didn't want a panic attack, class hadn't even begun.
the bell rang, and michael managed to make it to class in one piece. he took his usual seat in the very back corner, placing his forehead on his desk and taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
he could hear the noise in the room as students filtered in, chattering with each other, but the noise was a lot more manageable than the hallway.
he hated this. why did it have to be so hard?
he wanted to just go home and put on his headphones and play video games. he could control the noise there. he could control how the game went. he had control.
here, at school, he had none.
and he hated it.
-
should i continue?
-h
