Am I dead?

Is this what lucid dreaming feels like?

Do I even exist?

Michael swore that he was underwater, feeling like he was swimming in his own skin. He could hear voices, familiar voices, but he couldn't place them. Though his vision was blurry, he could make out a bright light directly above him, flickering every now and then. He was cold. Freezing, in fact. Scratchy, awkward stuff was plastered to his skin, thanks to how gross and sweaty he was. He tried to shift himself, only for a combination of aching pain and worried voices to stop him before he could.

"That's really not a good idea…"

"Michael, you'll hurt yourself! No-"

"Lie still, it's alright, Papa and I are here, sweetheart."

Michael felt a hand press against his forehead, pushing his damp hair back, and he grimaced and tried to turn away. Of course, this didn't work, and only increased the pressure, forcing his head back onto the pillow. A second hand joined the first, cupping his cheek, a familiar thumb stroke wiping away a drop of sweat.

"How are you feeling, Michael?"

Michael finally recognized one of the voices as Kurt, who was also the one holding him still. As his dad's face came into focus, he remembered something.

"Did you get a parking spot?"

"What?"

Michael tried to sit up again, to no avail. "You said-said that you n-needed to park when Papa and I came into the hospital. Did you find a spot?"

Kurt looked at his son in bewilderment, stifling a chuckle. "Uh, yes." Michael could hear laughing near the foot of his bed. "Yes, I found a spot. It took a while, but I managed."

Michael finally succeeded to lift his head to see his brother and sister doubled over in a fit of giggling, eyes closed and clutching their stomachs.

"I just got my appendix out, why are you laughing?!"

To Michael's dismay, this only made them laugh harder, and almost made Liz fall out of her chair. Just as he was about to let them have it, he heard Kurt yell,

"Hey, hey! Quit it, you two, your brother's sick!"

"Sorry, dad."

"Yeah, sorry…"

Kurt sighed, dropping his head. "Don't apologize to me, to Michael!"

"Sorry." said Luke and Liz in unison, looking embarrassed.

"What did you do in school today?" Michael asked. Lizzie, looking surprised, responded, "I, uhh… Oh! Now I remember, I signed up for stage crew, you know, for Chicago! And, Maria kind of forced me to start campaigning for freshman president." Liz took a deep breath, continuing, "And, we chose the musicals we would want to do for the end of year showcase, and on Friday, my class is voting between Grease, Newsies, and Hairspray. I wanted to do A Very Potter Musical, but Ms. Rollis said no."

"Wow." Michael responded. "That's a real bummer. I'm so sorry, Liz."

Michael saw his sister stifle another laugh, hiding her face for a moment. Luke smiled, and asked, "Hey, you sure you don't want to go back to sleep? You seem pretty out of it."

"No! I wanna record him-"

"Elizabeth, absolutely not."

"... Sorry, Dad."

"Actually," interjected Michael. "I am kinda sleepy."

"Then I promise I won't let Lizzie record you." Luke reassured him. "Go to sleep, Mr. President, I'll guard you."

The last thing Michael remembered before once more passing out was laughing so hard his side started to hurt again.

Once Michael woke back up, a different set of voices made themselves known.

"You think he's gonna have a scar?"

"Pete, is that really appropriate right now?"

"What?! I'm just curious…"

Michael furrowed his brows and tried to focus his blurry vision. "Hazel? Peter?"

Peter's head turned so fast his blond bangs fell in front of his glasses. He smiled maniacally.

"He lives!"

Hazel elbowed Peter out of the way, rushing to the side of Michael's hospital bed. "Are you okay? Stan said that your appendix needed to be taken out!"

Peter, as usual, interrupted her. "Yeah, we thought he was fucking with us until you didn't show up for math. Who would've thought Stan of all people would give a shit?"

"Yeah…" Michael recalled their conversation earlier that day. "He was the one who took me to the nurse."

"Did the teacher threaten to fail him if he didn't? Cause that's the only way he would escort you anywhere."

Michael's mouth was dry as he spoke. "Well, yeah, Mrs. Zadeh told him he had to, but something was weird about him." Both Peter and Hazel looked perplexed as Michael continued, "He was actually really nice."

"Wait, we're talking about the same Stan, right?" Peter asked. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Tall, black hair, stupid?"

"Real mature, asshole…" Hazel huffed.

"Oh, please, you read textbooks for fun! No adult in their right mind-"

Hazel interrupted him, hissing, "Coming from the boy who thinks that Goosebumps is real horror!"

"I'm sorry, have you seen Night of the Living Dummy?"

"Would you two please" Michael begged. "Be quiet? My head is pounding and I could drink a whole gallon of water right now."

Peter rose to the occasion, for once. "I can get you some water, if you want." He shot daggers at Hazel. "Anything to get away from Her Highness."

"Shove your names up your ass, douchebag!"

As always, Hazel reserved her foul language for Peter, who ever-so-maturely flipped her off as he was leaving. Michael would have rolled his eyes, but his head hurt too much to even think about moving. On the bright side, the throbbing in his side had decreased dramatically, which was good. He was also much less sweaty and uncomfortable. He looked up at Hazel, and asked, "Hey, do you know where my parents are? Or Dumb and Dumber?"

Hazel giggled, and responded. "They're in the cafeteria downstairs, they wanted to wait until Peter and I got here, so they wouldn't be leaving you alone." She sat in the chair next to Michael's hospital bed with a small thump, accidentally scooting the chair back and making herself jump. Michael bit his lip in an effort to not laugh at his friend's expense, failing spectacularly. Once she had scooted the chair back to where it was, she turned to him with a raised brow and flashing eyes.

"I meant to do that."

"No you didn't." The beeping of Michael's machines behind him was the only thing to be heard in the next few seconds, as neither him nor Hazel spoke a word, staring blankly at each other. Hazel began playing with her hair, pulling a tight ringlet down close to her sternum. Michael seized the opportunity to speak, "I didn't know your hair was that long."

She let go of the strand, which sprang back into place. "My mom's hair is really long, too, but she says it doesn't show as much on us because of shrinkage."

"Oh." Michael responded. "Cool."

More awkward silence followed. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in Michael's brain;

"Wanna talk about the science fair?"

"Why?" Michael saw that Hazel was looking at him with a worrying, suspicious gaze, and he quickly defended himself.

"No! Wait, I'm not asking to snoop, I don't want to steal whatever idea you have." Michael tried to move his arms, only to remember that he had an IV in. "You would do space stuff better than me anyways. But what do you think about genetics?"

Hazel sighed, probably in relief. "Genetics does seem right up your alley. But what would your project be?" She paused, seemingly thinking. "Are you gonna take a DNA test? You know, to figure out what percentages you are, like English, or Spanish, or French? Y'know, stuff like that?" Hazel gestured broadly with her hands, waving them like she was conducting an imaginary orchestra. Michael hadn't really thought about taking a DNA test, but he wasn't about to let Hazel think she had come up with it first.

"Yeah." Michael half-smiled awkwardly. "Something like that." He felt odd thinking about it, but he was genuinely unsure of what his DNA test would look like. The only thing he knew about his biological mother, other than how unfit she was to be a parent, was that she was white. It was obvious that his biological father was anything but white, but Michael had never seen pictures of him to be certain. Plus, he could barely remember what it was like living with his mother at that point, with a few unpleasant exceptions. Still, Michael was always interested in his birth family, other than his mom, of course.

In the midst of thinking about his birth family, his real family walked in, followed by Peter, who was holding a glass of water. Michael's hospital gown crinkled as he accepted the water and downed it in two gulps. Even behind Peter's thick lenses, Michael could see his eyes go wide.

"Jesus Christ, dude."

"What? I was thirsty." Michael wiped away a drop of water that had been traveling down his chin, smiling at his short, squeaky friend. Michael cleared his throat, finally having been adequately hydrated, and spoke more normally. "Thanks, Pete, you're a lifesaver."

"I never thought I would hear that, but you're welcome."

"Never thought I'd hear it, either…"

"Shut up, Hazel!"

The back-and-forth bickering continued for the next few minutes, and Michael was finally beginning to feel like himself again. He was far more alert than he had been, and his side had stopped throbbing as much. He still felt gross, but hopefully that would go away soon enough. I

After Hazel and Peter had gone home, Lizzie chatted his ear off for several minutes about how excited she was for Chicago and what her campaign ideas were.

"Mikey, help me pick a slogan."

"Don't call me Mikey."

"But I'm your sister!" Liz huffed.

"I don't care, please don't call me that."

"Okay, fine." Barely skipping a beat, Lizzie was back to rambling. "Should I really be so worried about my campaign when I don't even know who's running against me? High school politics is basically popular kids adding stuff to their college applications, it doesn't actually change how the school is run."

"I don't think that's accurate." Luke interjected. "I was class president my senior year, and I got to get a lot of stuff done."

Michael looked over to his right, where Luke was sitting. "Like what?"

"Well, I got to pick the themes of Spirit Week, I picked the theme for Senior Prom, and I suggested where we would go for our senior trip. Although," Luke looked away, and swallowed. "I didn't get to participate in any of it, due to my own dumbassery."

"Lucas…"

"Sorry!" Luke corrected himself. "Due to my own lack of self awareness and good judgement?" He glanced nervously at his parents, who were sitting to Michael's left. Michael followed Luke's line of sight to Kurt and Blaine, who were both wearing looks of concern. Blaine had been resting his head on Kurt's shoulder, but readjusted himself to address Luke.

"Listen, we know you're having a hard time forgiving yourself for what you did, but you have to stop talking like that."

If there was anything that Michael knew for certain, it was that his family was fucked. He himself had never had many self-esteem issues, but he couldn't say the same for Luke and Liz. From dropping out of college to being a former asshole, Luke wasn't what Michael would call 'flawless.' But, to Michael, that didn't matter. As much as he cared about Hazel and Peter, Luke really was his best friend.

Lizzie was simply Lizzie to Michael. She was just kinda there all the time. Her voice had become like a white noise machine to him. Michael never really paid much attention, but the only thing he was sure of was that Luke took out his issues on other people, while Liz took it out on herself.

His parents were much harder to understand. Michael knew why his siblings were living in Ohio when he met them, and not in New York with Kurt and Blaine. But, other than that, Michael was fairly clueless in regards to specifics. Blaine had been jumpy ever since they had picked Michael up from school, so Michael figured that it had something to do with hospitals.

"Hey, knock, knock."

Michael lifted his head to see his aunts and cousins poking their heads around the curtain to Michael's right, all looking rather relieved. Santana was the first to speak. "You scared the absolute crap out of your parents, you know that, right?"

Maria pranced over to his bed, shook the mattress as she flopped down, and crushed Michael with a hug.

"OW."

"Sorry!" Maria scrambled back up into a standing position, readjusting her headband, which had nearly fallen off. "I'm really happy you're feeling better!"

A new voice spoke. "Does it feel weird knowing that you have a missing organ?" Bridget was Santana and Brittany's youngest daughter, who was currently sporting a curly blonde braid, smudged glasses, and charcoal-stained fingers. She always spoke sarcastically, which annoyed Michael to no end. How the hell was he supposed to know if she was being serious?

"It feels no different that when I had it in, honestly."

"Oh." The younger girl sounded disappointed as she leaned against the nearest wall, next to Liz, and wiped her blackened hands against her jeans, earning a scolding look from Santana. "How long are you gonna be out of school?"

"I don't know yet."

"We're going to wait for the all clear from the doctor." Kurt added on with a slight chuckle.

Heat rose to Michael's cheeks as he bit his lip. Because clearly he couldn't speak for himself, right?

Minutes of conversation passed with nothing remarkable happening. Luke had to leave first, because he had picked up a shift that night. Just as the sky began to show signs of dusk, Blaine turned to his daughter.

"Alright, c'mon Ladybug, you have school tomorrow. Time for us to head home, say goodnight to your brother."

"Okay." Lizzie yawned, and got up to hug Michael, which he quickly shut down.

"I appreciate the thought, but I don't want a hug right now. Thank you, though" Michael bit back a laugh as Lizzie huffed and stomped out of the room. "Get home safe!" He called after his father and sister as their footsteps gradually faded. A few minutes passed, and Michael couldn't help but notice Maria intensely staring at him while their parents were deep in conversation.

Brittany turned to Santana and asked curiously, "The girls have school tomorrow, too, right?"

RING, RING!

Santana's response was drowned out by Kurt's phone going off. Michael flinched and covered his ears, leaning away from his father. Kurt quickly answered to stop the noise.

"Honey, you just left, what's up?"

"As I was saying," Santana continued, laughing softly, "Your mom's right, we need to get you home for school tomorrow."

"I can take the subway home, Blaine, you can take the car, it's okay!"

Maria protested against her mother, "Can we stay for a few more minutes, I wanna ask Michael about something."

Brittany and Santana exchanged a glance. "You have five minutes," Santana raised a brow, smiling. "Then we have to let Michael sleep, okay?"

"Okay!"

"I don't want Michael to be alone, so I'm staying the night, don't fix dinner to include me, okay?" Kur paused to listen. He smiled, sighing. "Yes, sweetheart, I'll be fine. I'll text you if anything comes up. Get home safe, love you!" He hung up, and Michael was a bit confused seeing his father look irritated. However, the cause became clear once Santana spoke.

"Awwww, you're more sappy than Britt and I."

"Shut up!"

Brittany giggled while Santana stuck her tongue out at Kurt.

'How are these people old enough to be my guardians?' Michael thought to himself.

"Wait, hold on-Maria?" Brittany's wispy blonde bob grazed her shoulders as she turned towards her daughter. "You didn't have a class tonight, did you?"

"No, Mama, that's tomorrow."

"Oh, good!"

Saying that Brittany and Santana were well off was an understatement. While owning a dance studio definitely wasn't too shabby, being a lawyer really paid the bills. Maria taking ballet since two years old also didn't leave much to the imagination. While Kurt and Blaine made enough to be comfortable with three kids in a place as expensive as Brooklyn, Brittany and Santana were living in a house in Queens, nearly paid off in full already. So, they did alright.

"So, Mike!" Maria wasted none of her five minutes, getting straight to the point. "Have you thought about what schools you're gonna apply to?" She wiggled in her seat, giving her cousin a bright smile. "Any ideas as to where you want to go to high school?"

Michael stares back at Maria, trying to understand what she was getting at. "Um, I've thought about applying for Brooklyn Tech and Stuyvesant…"

"Well…" Michael had a feeling that the catch was coming. Maria asked, "Have you considered going to an arts school?"

Michael's brain wiped itself clean and left him with no response whatsoever. He hadn't considered it in the slightest. Nothing about him screamed "performer," and he was as plain as white bread. Sure, he could carry a tune, but that was about it.

"Uh…" Michael swallowed, and somehow his throat was dry again. "Not really?"

Michael had mixed feelings about his singing. Maria was most likely basing her opinion on her thirteenth birthday party, where the entire New York group, (his parents, his siblings, his aunts, and his cousins), had gone to Asbury Park to enjoy a beach visit. He didn't remember what had gotten into him (possibly the spirit of Bruce Springsteen), but he had gotten on stage on the boardwalk and sang Born In the USA. Apparently, Maria thought he had lots of potential.

Michael didn't quite understand, but whatever.

Maria was always extremely persistent, and being the focus of said persistence made Michael feel very odd. It was an unwritten rule that whenever Maria wanted something, she got it, usually through gentle nagging and endless patience.

"I really think you would love Shaw, it's really small, so you wouldn't get overwhelmed by too many classmates!"

"I don't think Lizzie would like being in the same school as me, though."

Maria's eyes went wide as she raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I think she would love having you there."

"Wait," Michael continued, perplexed. "Did she tell you this herself, or…"

"Well, not really. But I think she would like having you as a classmate!" Maria brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder, and sat up straighter, as if presenting for a strict boss. "C'mon, Michael, at least say you'll think about it?"

Michael paused, glancing over towards his parents, who both wore similar expressions of gentle encouragement. He turned towards his aunts, and saw looks of curiosity and amusement. He sighed.

"Sure."