He understood what all this white room business meant. This was the way of Fate making him decided whether or not to wake up. In his white room of memories he asked himself if these were enough. If he could even handle anymore of the ones like the one he was being forced into now. Drawn to the one memory he wished he never had. Driven to twenty-five.
Twenty-five. When for once the horrible feeling of steel in flesh didn't feel so terrible. Looking down at his arms he saw the silver scar barely visible unless you were looking. The words of a mother, putting the pressure on the blade.
Contrary to popular belief, Justin was not the first to penetrate the rough exterior of Brian Kinney. The first was Alex. Alex was the one that had really taken Brian away. Alex, truth be told, is the reason Michael was so terrified of Justin. He had seen what Brian letting someone in could do.
It could turn his strong, proud best friend into a lovesick twelve year old who thought it was okay for the one he loves to use his backhand every once in a while to keep him in line. The thought shook him to the core and he fought tooth and nail to save Brian form himself. No more fighting though. Brian had made his choice. Alex was his future. Michael was memories. This was however not what pushed Michael over the edge. What did were the words of comfort that his mother had chosen.
"Hush now, Michael. Brian's in love. Why do you want to take that away from him?"
Although the answer was on the tip of his tongue he couldn't bring himself to betray Brians secret. So instead he told the second best. In a whispered voice he finally told the truth,
" Because it's not me."
The blade slid in so smoothly that it felt as if it was always meant to be there. The relief was quickly replaced when he saw the vivid red of blood. The terror of Michael, who was only the sum of his memories, washing those memories in crimson. Sullying everything he was by making them revenge.
That was when he finally called 911. He told the dispatcher that he had managed to cut himself in an awkward way while trying to pry the lid off of a paint can. That was impossible because there was no sign of said can when the paramedics arrived. But they bought his story because it was easier than helping. People believe what they want to believe.
It was in the way to the hospital when Michael had surrendered to the black that he found the white room and the booming voice. Both asking him to choose. They had shown him the memory of Brians rough trick and asked him to decide. With that choice he had managed to save Brian.
No one knew about the real Alex. Just like no one learned of his trip to emergency. Michael chose to come back for one reason and one reason alone - Brian loved him. It may not ever be in the way he would always dream about but for him it was enough. And that put him at the top of a very short list.
The sea foam green was an aid in allowing himself the liberty of giving in to the queasiness of the drugs he had been pumped with.
Brian jerked awake. His head flying off the back of the chair. Michaels hand clutched tightly in his. He felt the jolt of being backhanded across the face and wondered for the thousandth time how big the swelling would get. He awoke to hard, angry, ice blue eyes and noticed the normally perfect blonde hair was askew. He blinked hard and opened his eyes to reality. A bright red wig and calming green rimmed with red gently shaking him awake.
He clutched onto Deb harder than ever before and sobbed his regret onto her shoulder. Absently he wondered what had made him think of "him". He hadn't thought about Alex in four years. Not since Mikey had saved him.