#ignore the fact tht some of these look like shit just focus on how pretty he is :)

[yanankim]

DO OR NOT YUTO

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

unlonely [michael m. x reader] pt.1

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

oh SHIT. oh SHIT lads??? a part one??? but percy u never number the first parts!!!

yeah thats because i usually dont expect myself writing another part sdkfjhds but this? ive been planning this fic for a fuckin while now and it’s about time that i finish this and post it instead of yknow... starting part two and giving myself at least a beginning BUT oh well man i was excited and wanted to post this dskjfhds

also this went through multiple titles. unlonely ended up being the winner. brownie points if y’all know the song.

warnings: i dont think theres anything big other than like. my general swearing warning. 

            To say that you were friends with anyone at Middleborough would have been a complete lie. You knew people, sure, but you’d never really built up a connection with anyone past small jokes in-class and sometimes the rare invite for you to join them at lunch. For the most part, you’d been a loner - and that was how you liked it. It left you to sit alone at lunch and focus on your art, or for you to focus on getting homework done because you had Final Fantasy XV waiting for you at home and you were just about to help Iris with shit before you realized you wouldn’t have been able to save. You used your time wisely, and spent your free time at home, sometimes in a Discord call with a couple video game buddies who you’d met via Overwatch. But you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a couple people in your classes that you’d wished you’d talk to. One of those people had been Michael Mell, music enthusiast and video game aficionado. For the most part, you didn’t really know much about him past the fact he almost always had headphones around his neck, the fact he was best friends with Jeremy Heere (someone you’d honestly written off as a geek, and honestly, potential friend material since something told you that the two of you would have hit it off), and the fact he had various video game keychains since he had the habit of throwing down his keys during AP Biology - the only class the two of you shared where he sat right next to you, by some stroke of luck.

            So when Jeremy Heere suddenly changed completely and left Michael in the dust, you decided you’d give him a week. One week to stop being a huge dick and talk to the guy who’d apparently been Michael’s best friend for the past twelve years, according to some kid in your math class. You’d watched Michael try to grab his attention while in the hall as Jeremy strode past him, ignoring him for the entire day in order to spend time with people like Rich Goranski and Chloe Valentine - neither of who you disliked, but people that surprised you that they’d spend time with Jeremy Heere. 

            One week and two days later, you found yourself trying to find something to talk to Michael about that wasn’t video games. You gave that up quickly during the last fifteen minutes of AP Bio.

            You, in an attempt to find a conversation started, ended up stared at his key-chains: a buster sword, a diamond pickaxe, a round Pac-man with an open mouth, and a flat Nintendo game-boy. You settled on the buster sword, licking your lips and swallowing any doubt that had begun to pool in your stomach. “Did you hear about the remake?” You’d asked, and for a moment Michael hadn’t realized you’d been talking to him until he finally tore his eyes away from his phone, meeting your gaze. You smiled, “for uh, Final Fantasy-”

            He nodded before you could give the number. “Yeah, uh - I heard,” he said, wary of your sudden presence. You shifted uncomfortably at that - maybe you should have opened up with something different.

            “Yeah - uh, I never really got a chance to play the original since my older brother took his PlayStation and all his games when he moved out - but I’m excited for the remake! I’m hoping that it’ll live up to the fame of the original,” you said, keeping up a smile and acting as confident as you could. “I’m hoping that maybe when I visit him, I can play a bit.”

            Michael blinked in the sight of you, surprised you were still talking to him. He half-expected that spark of conversation to die out as quickly as it had flamed. But he reached up, tugging slightly at his headphones, and sat slightly straighter. “It’s honestly one of the best games in the series. The soundtrack alone is fantastic,” he said, starting to warm up to you, “you should definitely listen to it at least.”

            “I have!” You chirped, smiling, “yeah - my brother used to play video game soundtracks in the mornings when he’d drive me to school. He said something about it being nice, and then would always make a big deal for his favorite games. I’ve been wanting to play more of the older games, but so far I’m kinda fascinated with the newest one so... one game at a time, I guess.”

            “Yeah, uh, fifteen’s pretty fun actually!” Michael ran a hand through his hair, “it’s different but...”

            “Really good. I’m kinda glad the series took a step away from the turn-based combat, I guess.” You shoved your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie, “so... what else do you play?”

            “A lot of old shit,” he shrugged, “Overwatch, sometimes. I haven’t really played recently though.”

            You immediately jump on that thread. “What do you play on? Who do you main?” 

            He blinked at the sight of you, before a small smile cracked upon his face. Maybe you were cooler than he thought. “Uh, PS4 mainly, and... Sombra, D.Va, aaaand Lúcio. What about you?”

            “Same, actually - my brother also bought Overwatch for PS4 and then ended up giving that to me when he left. As for who I main-”

            The bell rung out, interrupting you as teenagers began to shuffle around you. You slowly stood, grabbing your bag and slipping an arm through one strap as you turned back to Michael. He’d already stood, shoving his keys into his pocket and backpack already hanging off of one shoulder. He watched you for a moment, as if waiting to see if you were actually going to pursue conversation or leave him now that class was over.

            “If you wanna keep talking about video games ‘n stuff,” you said, “we can maybe grab lunch together?”

            “Yeah, I’d, uh- I’d like that?” He acted as if he was unsure. He paused as he pushed in his chair, leaning against it, “I don’t eat in the cafeteria though.”

            “That’s valid,” you stepped away, walking with him out of the classroom. “I’ve got money, if that helps-”

            “You... really wanna talk to me, don’t you?” He stared at you, dumbfounded that someone would actually take notice of him past the regular little interactions - asking him to get out of the way, asking him a question about class, all the basic shit that’d be forgotten minutes all.

            You nodded, the fabric of your backpacks straps scratching against your palm to make an uncomfortable noise. You winced slightly because of it, before nodding again awkwardly. “Yeah. I do.” You sort of smile, “is that a problem? You seem cool.” He shook his head as he walked alongside you, one hand fumbling with his headphones. You continued on, “so.. We were talking about my mains, right?”

            The walk out to Michael’s car wasn’t too awkward in the end. He was surprisingly happy to keep talking about different video games, lamenting about this shitty level in Apocalypse of the Damned before immediately shutting up about it. Then the conversation turned to food, Michael suggesting sushi and you just sorta shrugged and agreed since he was driving. On the drive over, there was the whole awkward conversation of “wait, should we eat in or get our stuff to go?” which ended in the two of you deciding just to chill in his car in the parking lot of the school with your food. Twenty minutes later, the two of you had kicked back and were listening to music in his car, enjoying your food.

            “Y’know,” you started, “for a dude who was so eager to get sushi, I’m surprised you didn’t get more sushi.” You shrugged, “I mean, it’s no biggie - I’m just a little surprised-”

            Michael looked over to you, before looking back to his food, “eh. I’m not that big on fish - plus the beef negimaki is fucking god there.” He then stole another glance to you, “what’s up with the fork?”

            “Never learned to use chopsticks,” you shrugged, “my brother always made fun of me for it.” You smiled a little, “I mean - I just can’t really loosen my grip enough, I guess.” You glanced down to the chicken yakisoba you’d ordered, “besides. I mean... it’s not like I’m eating sushi with a fork.”

            “I guess you have a point.” He said. Awkward silence grew between the two of you, only leaving the music to fill the small bits of tension that had developed since you were sort of a stranger in a way.

            “You like music?” You asked, mentally slapping yourself - of course he likes music, who doesn’t like music? “What do you listen to?”

            He lit up immediately at that, jabbing his empty chopsticks in the direction of his radio. “Eighties stuff. Grew up with it,” he began, “mainly because of my moms, but my older brother was big into eighties shit as well. And, uh, he also got me into Filipino eighties music,” he shrugged, “heritage stuff, I guess.” He paused for a moment, idly tapping his chopsticks against the to-go container for a moment, “plus he’s older than me so... I guess I thought he was cool and started listening to stuff because of it.”

            “Are you saying your brother isn’t cool?” You shifted, iron-grip on your lunch, “because you better hope I never meet him or I’ll tell him that.”

            He snorted a little at that, “he’s cool. He ended up moving to Philly with a bunch of friends a year ago.”

            You nodded, reaching for your drink. “Maybe you could show me some music sometimes? I’ve been looking for some new bops-”

            “I can make you a playlist!” Michael then drew back slightly, confidence fading little by little, “I mean, if you want-”

            “I’d really like that.” The minute you spoke, Michael beamed, once again filled with confidence. The way that Michael seemed to light up, all the stars falling into his eyes - it made you smile a little more than you had been before. “Do you, uh - you use Spotify, right?”

            “Yeah! My moms pay for premium,” he beamed, before his smile fell. “Do... you uh-”

            “Want my number?” You offered up, and he nods, unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. You flipped open the contacts, pressing the little plus button and filling in your info before shooting a quick message to yourself before setting his phone back in his hand.

            That afternoon started the constant memes, along with the occasional song that he’d ask your opinion on - always swearing that it was so he could get a better grasp of your taste so that you’re playlist will be perfect. Some you liked, some you forced yourself to listen to past the first minute (and occasionally, you ended up liking them), others you dropped barely seconds in, something not quite jiving with you. He’d usually find you at lunch on the days you didn’t have AP Bio,or occasionally he’d ask if you wanted to run somewhere for lunch since cafeteria sucks. By that Saturday, a link popped up to a playlist just titled ‘tasty jams for [y/n]’ with the description set as ‘because their music taste might suck and im a good person :)’ - which made you laugh, sending a quick ‘thank you for your wise wisdom, mello yello’ before you plugged in your headphones to listen.

            You really, really appreciated Michael’s taste in music, honestly.

            Over the course of the next few weeks, Michael became a regular part of your life. After your insistence that, dude, you were gonna be lonely anyway, just come and sit with you - he sorta caved in and ate lunch with you regularly, animatedly talking about video games or music or this stupid YouTube video he watched: anything and everything, like he was this dam that had been building up and now he finally had someone to talk to, someone to spill everything to. AP Biology consisted of dumb jokes under your breath, Michael’s soft chuckles next to you making you crack little smiles; little notes slipping to one another during your American History class, sometimes little drawings, other times little jokes; and then there was Algebra, where the two of you would text each other from across the room, trying your best to hide your phones. At the end of math, Michael would be waiting by the classroom door, falling into step beside you as the two of you started heading out to the parking lot. 

            “Hey!” He greeted you one day, visibly nervous despite the smile plastered to his face. He shoved his hands into his pockets, “hey, uh, you wanna... come over on Saturday? We could play video games or something,” he shrugged. 

            You mulled over the thought for a minute, before slowly nodding. “Okay.”

            He smiled again, reaching up and fumbling with the cord of his headphones as he looked over to you. “You do know we’re gonna play some spooky shit, right? It’s almost Halloween,” he sorta laughed, “spooky scary.”

            You jabbed him with your elbow, not hard enough to hurt him. “Fuckin’ dork, fine- but I get first pick at characters.”

            “Yeah, fine, you can be player-” He paused, catching himself, “yeah. Yeah, okay!”

            You didn’t push it.

            That Saturday you drove over to Michael’s house, letting your Google Maps app guide you the entire way, calling out directions along the way over the sound of the playlist Michael made for you. You cursed the cold weather outside, your jacket sitting in the passenger seat of the heated car. The moment you pulled up outside of Michael’s house, only his P.T Cruiser sitting in the driveway, you shot him a quick text that you were outside and he best have that door open because you aren’t dealing with this cold shit today. Barely taking a minute to slip into your jacket, you cut off the car and pocketed the keys, clicking the doors locked after you hopped out and dashed to the front door, Michael opening it just in time for you to slide inside.

            He stood there, watching you literally slide to a stop. “You don’t like the cold, do you?”

            You shook your head. “Not when the weather lies to me, dear Mello Yello.” 

            He glanced upstairs, before looking back to you. “I’m gonna grab some snacks - but you can go on up? First door on the left,” he shut the front door, finally cutting the cold air out of the situation. You nodded, awkwardly shooting him finger guns as you strolled past him and head upstairs - after kicking off your boots near the door, having found Michael’s own shoes sitting nearby. You found Michael’s room easily, even if he hadn’t given you instructions, considering his door had been left wide open and his room was as Michael-esque as you expected.

            Band T-shirts littered the floor, some lazily thrown over the chair at his desk, along with what you swore looked like a pizza box tucked under his bed and a few empty cans of soda - all crushed and most around a full trashcan near the bedroom door. You sorta hold back a smile at how fucking stereotypical teenage-boy the mess was - but that little bit of restraint disappeared as you started taking in the posters pinned around his room, all with red or white pushpins holding them up. The Legend of Zelda, Uncharted, The Last of Us, Tomb Raider, Portal - and then, among those, you caught a few others. Old movies posters - things like Nightmare on Elm Street and Alien and The Thing - peeked out from between everything else, and then it all came to a stop at this cork-board that hung above Michael’s desk. Pictures were pinned up everywhere, some of him by himself, others with him and his moms and someone you only assumed was a brother or a cousin or something - due to the striking resemblance that Michael shared with him. And then there were pictures of Jeremy - scarce but still there -  among all the memories of Disney World and sleepy plane rides with a dark sky peeking through the windows. All of them were different ages - Michael and Jeremy at what you could only assume was sometime during their last few years of elementary school, posing proudly with the widest smiles and papers in front of them for good grades or good attendance, the sort of shit that you usually get in elementary school; or Michael chilling at a community pool with Jeremy, both probably thirteen or fourteen, with ice cream and sodas sitting on a wire table behind them, towels wrapped around their shoulders and smiles forced in that sort of way that when you’re thirteen, you don’t want anyone to see you; and then there was a picture of Michael and Jeremy, taken within the last year, with Michael’s arm thrown around Jeremy’s shoulder as this was absolutely something snapped at the most opportune moment, and you couldn’t really make out what they were looking at but they both looked so happy and comfortable with each other. Something inside of you plucked at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to think. 

            You tore your attention away from the board, ignoring whatever the sticky notes littered here and there said, and you started fumbling with a Rubik’s Cube on his desk. His laptop sat, open with a darkened screen - and with an accidental brush of the wireless mouse that’d been positioned a little too close to the Rubik’s Cube, you were greeted with his Spotify open to a playlist in progress, a key-smash for a name and description (very creative) with a few songs listed. Eventually you set down the toy, making your way over to his bed and sitting down, just sort of taking in the sight of Michael’s room while the scent of some air freshener lingered around you.

            “Shit-” Michael said as he approached the room, causing you to turn around. “I was... sort of in the middle of cleaning... aaand I wasn’t sure if I should finish while you were here-” He kicked out his desk chair, it rolling back enough for him to seat himself, the back of it pressed against his stomach. “I can clean up more if you want.”

            “It’s cool, dude. No messier than my room,” you sort of laughed, whether it was true or not. What are we playing?”

            He didn’t answer, standing and handing over a can of soda to you before going over to where his games were stored, flipping through them. “I... didn’t plan that far ahead.”

            He rattled off the titles of games, while your focus drifted back to the photos on the wall. You’d never really seen Michael so happy - well, perhaps when you asked about him making you a playlist, but that moment paled in comparison to the most recent picture with Jeremy - and that twisted your stomach. You didn’t hear Michael stop reading out names, before his gaze settled on what you’d been staring at. He stood once more, clutching a game in his hands now as he walked over to the board.

            “Yeah, uh - my family travel a lot,” he said, looking back to you. “Usually just over summer and breaks and whatever,” he sunk down into the chair, and you crawled over to the foot of his bed, as close as you could get without standing. He pointed out different pictures - the summer he went to Disney World and how he got super fucking spooked on Expedition Everest, or how they took a road trip one summer and jammed out to eighties bops the entire way, or the day trips they took to New York as a family - before you catch his gaze falling to Jeremy. 

            “So!” You interrupt the silence that had started to grow between the two of you, “Mello Yello. What we playing.” You didn’t ask. But he lit up, glad to have something else to think about. You beamed at him as he held up the case.

            “Resident Evil 5.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “got that fucking spooky zombie shit.” 

            “Just in time for Halloween,” you mused, “dope. I get to be Chris.”

            He chuckled, moving to queue the game up and handing you a controller. “Your loss, then.”

            “Dude. I get to be a fucking beefy dude.”

            “But Sheva though.”

            You mulled the thought over. “... You have a point.”

            The game queued up. And then Michael spoke again, nudging you to scoot over as he sat on his bed. “Are you going to Jake’s Halloween party?”

            Something about that question made your blood turn to ice for a mere moment. That... came from nowhere - and you didn’t even know Jake Dillinger past the fact that a lot of people would fucking love to fuck him. So you shrugged the question off. “Are you?”

            And Michael didn’t answer.

            “Michael?”

            He looked over to you, before turning his attention to the game, starting it up. You pinned your eyes to the screen, as the opening tutorial started up after the two of you configured shit. “Jeremy’s supposed to be there,” he finally admitted. “I thought that maybe I’d go talk to him. Y’know, talk some sense into him.” His shoulders fell as he let out a heavy breath, “yell at him about how we were friends for twelve years and how he’s being a huge fucking dick because of the SQUIP-”

            You cut him off: “the what.” He freezed under your gaze. “Michael... you never told me what happened with Jeremy.”

            And he wasn’t going to - judging by how he immediately fumbled with his controller, slowly breathing out as he squeezed his eyes shut. The game started, throwing you into the opening cutscene of the game. You watched as Michael drew his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, before he finally decided to speak again.

  ��         “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he said, and the moment you finally nodded, he continued on. “So uh... the SQUIP is this... weird supercomputer-pill-thing,” he started, “and it’s supposed to like... tell you what to do? I don’t know - Jeremy said that this guy at school was going to sell him one and we went to check it out and now he’s too good for-” He hesitated. “He’s too good to hang out with me, since... I guess I’m a loser?” He stared at the TV screen before the two of you. “I dunno - he didn’t... really say.”

            You didn’t speak. You only sat there, playing the game as you listened to Michael filled you in on what limited information he had. The entire time he spoke, he looked so distant. Just mere minutes ago, he’d been alive - talking to you about his family and about the game, and he’d been bright as he greeted you at the door and brought snacks and soda for the two of you - and now... he looked tired. You suddenly stopped, grip on the controller becoming loose as you only stared at Michael, watching his focus stay on the game, movement reflecting in his glasses until he, too, finally stopped. The two of you had been lucky there weren’t any enemies around at that point - you’d probably have died and had to restart if there had been. His gaze slowly met yours.

            “I know it sounds crazy,” Michael breathed, grip tight on the controller, “but... it’s true - I promise,” he paused, searching for words to say, searching your face for disbelief. But he didn’t find it. He found concern, etched into every feature that you had.

            “Michael... it’s not that it’s crazy, as... impossible as a supercomputer-pill-thing sounds,” you said, not sure how else to refer to this SQUIP thing, “I mean... It’s just really, really hard to grasp. Like...” You paused, tracing your thumb along hard plastic, “if you’re going to talk to Jeremy at the party,” you shifted the subject, “are you sure that’s something that you should do-”

            He didn’t wait. “Yes - I have to-”

            “- alone?” You finished, dumbfounding him almost immediately. “Look - I’m not saying that I, uh... go in there with you or anything, but... I can drive you, or just wait in the car-” You cut yourself off, “I just don’t think this is something you should be doing completely alone.”

            You were met with a completely dumbfounded stare, before he finally snapped back to reality, your words sinking in. And then he nodded, immediately spouting off some plan about how you can pick him up that night, and he can change into his costume on the way to Jake’s house and then he’ll crash at your place, so the whole idea of him chilling at your place wouldn’t be a complete lie to his moms. The entire time he went into detail about this whole scheme he cooked up, you couldn’t fight back a smile. 

            Because at that moment, the two of you had become partners in crime.

            Fuck yes.