Lance blinked slowly and sat up. He was laying on an unknown bed, covered only with a thin sheet, naked he realized.
A chuckle startled him to look up.
Michel Chandler leaned against the nightstand by the bed, dressed in a completely blood-red suit, smirking at the Cuban viciously.
"Hello slut."
Lance's face went deadly pale. "M-Michael?! How did you get in here?!"
"I'm like oxygen, I'm everywhere. By the way, really Lance? Sleeping with psycho-trench coat kid. I will crucify you for this!" Michael practically cackled.
"Everyone in school is going to know that good little Lance McClain is nothing but a dirty little whore."
Lance clutched handfuls of the bed sheets, tears falling fast down his face. "Michael...why are you doing this? Why the fuck are you so determined to hurt me?!"
Michael cocked his head to the side, putting a finger on his chin like he was thinking it over, "Because I can, and you make it so easy! 'Please make the big bad kids stop picking on me!'"
Michael cackled continuously as Lance clutched his head and and squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.
"Lance? LANCE!" a new voice shouted and a hand started to shake him roughly.
Lance stopped screaming and opened his eyes quickly, looking around before settling them on a very worried Keith.
"W-What?" Lance croaked.
"Jesus, you're soaking wet!" Keith exclaimed before wiping away the sweat on Lance's face carefully.
"O-Oh, it was just a dream..." Lance sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his aching temple.
Lance quickly got up from the warm bed and searched for his discarded clothes, blushing a dark red from Keith's obvious stare.
"What's the rush?" he asked, also pulling on his discarded t-shirt and boxers. Lance flushed and pulled on his pants.
"I've got to head over to Michael's house." He muttered, searching frantically for his shirt. Keith looked at him in bewilderment.
"What? I though you said you were done with him?"
Lance, finally finding his shirt, bit his lip and shook slightly.
"Yeah, and it was a sweet fantasy, a world without Michael. A world where everyone is free. But now it's time to wake up and face the music. I'll never be able to go back to school without his forgiveness. If I don't apologize, I'm done." Lance whimpered, holding himself tightly.
"You don't have to-" Keith started.
"Yes I do! I...I'm not strong like you..." Lance whispered, looking down.
The bedroom was filled with a heavy silence for a few minutes before Keith sighed and pulled on a pair of black jeans, Lance looked at him confused.
"Then I'm coming with you." he said, no room for debate.
"You don't have to..." Lance said, looking at other. Keith rolled his eyes and smiled at the Cuban fondly.
"I want to."
Lance looked at him astonished, but smiled and nodded, "Okay, thank you."
Keith came up and hugged the other teen tightly, kissing him softly. Lance giggled softly, before pulling back and smirking.
"By the way, you were my first."
The medium-sized manor house that was Michael Chandler's was quiet. was at work and was out, probably seeing her boyfriend. And Michael himself was in his bedroom, with a massive hangover.
"Michael? ...Michael?" Lance shouted from he bottom of his staircase.
"What?!" an annoyed voice yelled back, Lance gulped.
"It's Lance. I've come to apologize!"
A laugh, then groan of pain. "I hope you brought knee pads, Fix me a prairie oyster and I'll think about it!"
Lance nodded and headed to the large kitchen, Keith trailing behind, taking in the massive furniture and whistled.
Opening various cabinets, Lance muttered to himself, "Prairie oyster, what's in that?"
Keith handled Lance a cup, "Thank you. Um.. okay, raw egg, vinegar, -"
"-Hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, tomato juice, salt and pepper." Keith finished, pulling out the ingredients he listed. Lance cocked an eyebrow at him.
"You sure know your hangover cures huh?"
"My dad trained me well." Keith commented and mixed the drink together.
Lance nodded before laughing, "Here's my revenge, I'll hock a loogie in his drink and he'll never know." Lance began to clear his throat making various gross noises, Keith laughed and joined in before they both spat the disgusting substance in the drink and mixed it in.
They both looked at it before Lance scrunched up his nose, "Ew."
Keith looked through the cabinets before pulling out a clean container of blue drain fluid.
"I'm a no rust build up man myself." Keith said, wiggling the bottle at Lance who frowned but laughed.
"Don't be a dick, that stuff will kill him."
"Thus ending his hangover, I say we go with big blue." he poured the blue liquid into a clear cup and held it up admiringly. Lance now looked around cautiously.
"He's never drink anything that looks like that anyways." Lance said.
Keith paused then nodded, "You're right," he almost dumped it before stopping.
"We'll put it in a mug, he won't have any idea what he's drinking." he poured it into a mug, similar to the loogie mixed cocktail one.
"Forget it." Lance said, not laughing anymore. Keith chuckled.
"Oh come on, chicken! Bawk bawk bawk!" Keith made various chicken noises before Lance scowled unamused.
"You're not funny." Lance said, stepping away slightly, Keith frowned and set down his cup next to the other.
"Hey, it was just a joke. I'm sorry." Keith kissed Lance who melted and kissed back.
"PRAIRIE OYSTER! CHOP, CHOP!" Michael's voice boomed from upstairs, Lance sighed slightly.
"Coming Michael!" Lance picked up one of the cup and turned towards the doorway.
"Lance you just-" Keith started but stopped. Lance turned to him.
"What?" Lance smiled at him. Kith blinked before shaking his head.
"Never mind."
"Okay!" Lance chirped back and they headed upstairs to the demon's room.
Michael was laying on his bed, his room a mess. Dirty clothes strewn across the floor and the dresser covered in make-up. Lance could just hear his mamá yelling at this boy in the back of his head.
"Recoge esa ropa, idiota, y limpia este desastre, ¡parece que vive un cerdo aquí!"
Michael groaned and looked up from where he had his face smashed into a pillow, his normally perfect coco skin was looking rather haggered with bag under his eyes and bloodshot eyes. Lance did not feel guilty for having a sick satisfaction of looking better than him.
"Good morning Michael." Lance said, holding the mug tightly in his hand.
Michael sneered at them both, "Aw Lance, and Jesse James, quelle surprise. Let's get to it. Beg." Michael said, really demanded.
Lance faltered a bit before nodding, "Um, okay. I think we both said a lot of things that we didn't really mean-"
"Oh, I would actually prefer if you did this on your knees. In front of your boy toy there." Michael interrupted, smirking at Lance's flinch and Keith's glare.
Lance bit his lip, "Okay, anyways. I'm really sorry."
Michael narrowed his eyes, "Do I look like I'm kidding? Ha ha. Down."
Lance trembled slightly and glances at Keith who is staring down Michael like a predator. Lance slowly get down on his knees. Michael smirked and plucked the cup from Lance's hands.
"That's better, but you're still dead to me." he thin took three big gulps from the mug, finishing it.
Michael frowned and started to gag, and dropped the mug, it shattered loudly. He put down hands to his throat and gasped and gagged, his face going very pale as he struggled to breath. Lance had shot up and looked at Michael in horror. Michael gripped Lance's arm and hissed two words at him.
"C-CORN..NUTS..!" He then fell backwards into his glass table, making the glass break loudly. he didn't move after that.
Keith looked at Michael's corpse and cried out one word to sum it all up, "SHIT!"
Lance snapped his head to Keith in horror, "Oh my god! OH MY GOD! D-Don't just stand there! CALL 911!" he cried, clutching his head. Keith shook his head slowly, his mind still reeling from what just happened.
"It's a bit late for that."
Lance turned and looked at the still body Michael Chandler, "Michael? Michael?! I-I just killed my best friend!"
"And worst enemy." Keith commented.
"Same difference! The police are going to think that I did this on purpose! They're gonna have to send my SAT score to Guantanamo Bay!" Lance cried and sat down heavily on the stool by the dresser, holding his face in despair.
"Unless.." Keith looked around the bedroom then spotted something, "look, she was reading The Bell Jar." Lance just shook his head, still covering his face.
"Oh no..." Lance moaned. Keith forced a pen and piece of paper into the Cuban's hand.
"Oh yes, you can fake her hand writing right? Make her sound deep. Something like this: 'You might think what I've done is shocking. To me though, suicide is the natural answer to the myriad of problems life has given me.'" Lance nodded then frowned.
"That's good, but Heather would never use the word myriad."
"This is the last thing she's ever gonna write, she's going to want to cash in on as many fifty cent words as possible." Keith said, Lance bit his lip harshly.
"Yeah but she missed myriad on the vocab test two weeks ago." Lance argued, Keith blinked dumbly at him.
"Why do you- never mind, that just proves my point more. The word is a badge for her failures at school.
Lance frowned and looked back at the paper. "Oh yeah, you're probably right...Um, 'People think just because you're beautiful and popular, life is easy and fun.'" Keith nodded.
Lance bit on the pen edge, "'No one understood that I had feelings too.'" Lance looked at Keith who looked at the paper before looking at him. "'I die knowing no one knew the real me.'"
Writing down the last bit of the note, Lance just stared at it, his vision a little out of focus. Keith grabbed Lance's hands and pulled him away from the note and looked at him worriedly.
"Are you okay?"
"I...I don't know." Keith nodded and hugged the teen tightly.
At the school, the staff sat around a table trying to figure out how to deal with the situation.
Allura Altean had her hands tucked under her chin and a deadly serious face on, it made the other staff members nervous.
"Michael Chandler is not your everyday suicide. She was very popular." Allura stated.
Coach Ripper sighed heavily, "Look Allura, if you let these kids out before lunch, the switchboard would light up like a Christmas tree."
"I must say, I was impressed to see that she made proper use of the word myriad in her suicide note." commented an English teacher from the left corner, smoking a cigarette. Then two hands slammed down on the table, no one jumped as this was a common thing to happen.
"I find it profoundly disturbing that we're told of the tragic destruction of youth, and all we can thin to talk about is adequate mourning times and misused vocabulary words?" Coran, the guidance counselor, was known to be very dramatic and expressive to the point of being annoying. But he had a point.
"Oh Christ." a voice grumbled, making the red-head twitch and glare. "We must revel in this revealing moment! Look, I suggest that we get everybody together, both students and teachers, in the cafeteria and just talk about what happened...together."
It was quiet, then: "Thank you, Mr. Quiznak, you call me when the shuttle lands." a few chuckles made Coran glared viciously but sit down and look away, pouting.
"Is this Michael the...cheerleader?"
Allura sighed heavily, "No, that would be Michael McNamara."
Lance leaned back against one of the metal lockers in the locker room as Michael McNamara dressed back into his regular clothes after gym. Michael Duke sat in front of them chowing down on a chicken leg that made Lance consider KFC for dinner later.
"God, It's unfair." Michael McNamara said, pulling his shirt over his head, "it's just so unfair. We should get off a whole week, not just an hour." Lance fiddled with his shirt.
"Write the school board," Michael Duke said between bites.
Lance glared at them, "Watch it Michael, you might actually be digesting food there."
"Yeah, where's your urge to purge?' Michael McNamara asked.
"Fuck it." Michael Duke said, throwing a chicken bone behind him, Lance watched it splat on the ground noisily.
"Look! Michael left behind one of his wrist bands." Michael McNamara said, pulling out a bright red rubber wristband with white stripes. Michael looked at it before tossing it to Lance, who caught it surprise.
"He'd want you to have it Lance, he always said you couldn't accessorize for shit." Lance looked at the red band thoughtfully.
"Sorry to hear about your friend," said a voice behind Lance, making him jump and see some guy in an army green jacket, messy brown hair and small black circle sunglasses right beside him, "though he was your usual airhead dick. Guess I was wrong. We all were." the guy then look off his glasses and pushed them on Lance's face and walked off.
"What a waste," Michael Duke said and threw away his empty chick box. Lance walked into the open showers, wristband now on.
Both Michaels looked at each other confused as Lance turned on the showers and stood under it, still dressed and holding onto the wristband, sunglasses slipping a little.
"Lance?" Michael McNamara asked, confused, "what are you doing?"
Lance looked up at the ugly blue tile ceiling and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.
Miss Jackson, an English teacher, walked around the classroom, clutching a paper in his hand.
"I'm just so thrilled to finally have an example of the profound sensitivity of which a human animal is capable."
Lance sat in the pile of bean bags at the back of the classroom, now dry after his momentary freak out.
"That example is Michael Chandler." Lance rolled his eyes.
"I have his note," Miss Jackson confessed. The classroom gasped, Lance's eyes widened, was that legal?
"Now, I'm going to pass this note around the class so you can all feel it's pathetic beauty for yourself." Lance gaped at this audacity of this woman to pass around a suicide note, what the fuck?!
She tossed the note to a random kid, "And while we do this, I feel the need for everybody to share how this suicide makes you all feel. Now, who would like to begin?"
A few kids spoke about some stupid shit that didn't happen, Michael wouldn't have looked at them unless they had something to offer or to verbally shank them.
Lance couldn't contain the laugh he let out, so when the class turned to look at him he quickly covered it with a fake sob and clutched his face like he was hiding tears.
"At a time like this, negative people choose to focus on their grief. Well I hate those people. Because I am a very positive person, I remember the good times like when Michael and I got our ears pierced-"
Keith changed the channel, Michael Duke disappeared.
"-I can still hear all those late night phone calls-"
Another channel change.
"The day he won that stuffed rhino at the 4h fair he turned to me and said 'you are my soulmate'-"
"Jesus Michael how many stations did you run to?" Lance said, Keith rolled his eyes and turned off his television, leaning back on the living room couch at Keith's place.
"Michael Chandler's more popular than ever now." Keith commented, Lance rested his head on Keith's shoulder, who wrapped an arm around the other in comfort.
Suddenly a man stepped into the living room, Lance recognized him as 'Big Bud Kogane', Keith dad. Lance recognized that he was an attractive man, he had Keith's eyes and looked like an older version of his boyfriend. Mr. Kogane paused seeing the two and smiled at them.
"Why son, I didn't hear you come in." Keith remarked.
"Yeah pop," Lance was taken back at the slight southern accent, "I want to introduce you to my new boyfriend."
Lance paused then got up and reached out to shake Mr. Kogane's hand. "Sorry, hello the name's Lance."
Mr. Kogane didn't even pause, just slipped a hidden beer into Lance's open hand. "Drink up cutie."
Lance blinked at it, "It's a little early." Keith came up from behind Lance and took the bottle and handed it back to his father.
"You know the rules son, no underage drinking in this house." Keith said jokingly, but his smile was tense and a dark look lingered in his eyes.
"Oh?" Mr. Kogane mused looking at Keith then Lance, "So you're a good boy eh?" Lance blushed and looked away.
"I- uh.."
"Lance was just leaving." Keith said, smile gone, looking flatly at his father.
"Relax, I'm just having some fun. Sit, sit." Mr. Kogane sat down on the couch and motioned for the other two to sit as well, Lance glanced at Keith who glared before going to sit, Lance sat beside him closely.
"Work was a real pain in the ass today. Some damn tribe of withered old bitches is trying to stop my poor old dad from blowing up this fleabag motel, all because Glenn Miller and his band once took a shit there. Just like Kansas. You remember Kansas?"
"Yeah."
"The save the memorial oak society. My pop showed those tree humpers. Thirty bricks of C4 explosives stuck to a trunk. He was-"
"Arranged but acquitted." Keith and his dad said at the same time. Mr. Kogane laughed loudly, even slapping his knee, while Keith's face was pure stone.
"Goddamn Kansas." Keith muttered.
"Hell of a time, hell of a time." Mr. Kogane stared at Lance, in a very creepy manner before smiling at Keith. "So pop, can I invite my boyfriend over for supper?"
"I don't think that's such a good idea son." Keith said, now a bit of anger seeping into his voice.
"Come on pop, don't be a square." Mr. Kogane said, if he knew Keith was angry he didn't give it away.
The tension was so thick, Lance felt like he could actually cut it with a knife. He stood up quickly and smiled awkwardly at the two.
"I appreciate the offer, but I gotta go. My mamá is making my favorite tonight, Arroz can pollo."
"Nice. You know, the last time I saw my mom, she was waving out a library window in Texas. Right, dad?" Keith said, looking at Lance the entire time, but Mr. Kogane had stopped smiling and stared at Keith intensely.
"Right, son."
Lance chuckled nervously and waved at Keith, "Okay, well see you tomorrow."
Lance quickly went home.
Dear Diary,
Keith's dad will NOT be speaking at our wedding.
Recoge esa ropa, idiota, y limpia este desastre, ¡parece que vive un cerdo aquí! - Pick up those clothes, idiot, and clean this mess, it looks like a pig lives here!