not falling apart ≫ fob + 5sos

( eleven ) amethyst

(( in the attachment is all the characters from left to right luke hemmings, joe trohman, ashton irwin, michael clifford, andy hurley, pete wentz, patrick stump, calum hood, amethyst trohman, and petra clifford. ))

-

My feet were heavy, tiredness pushing down on my body like a hundred pound weight. My eyes, barely able to keep open, stuck to the hallway before me, the sound of Patrick sliding the plastic key into the hotel door entering my ears, my brain relived I would soon be in a bed.

I didn't seem to be the only anxious one to get away from the other group. Pete seemed to be ready to explode and it was probably because he was angry about something. That's how he always acted.

Patrick pushed open the door and I swore Pete couldn't get into that room fast enough. Joe took a deep breath beside me and quickly followed after him.

Inside the room, his weight weighing down the bed and crinkling the crisp white sheets, Pete sat, his face in his hands, his foot tapping quickly in a messy rhythm.

"Pete, just take calm, deep, breaths," Patrick instructed him, slowly lowering himself next to him.

Pete didn't even look up. "I- I can't, Patrick. I'm losing my mind faster and faster every day."

I was beyond confused until my brother stepped into the conversation. "You are not losing your mind, Peter Wentz. You are just having issues," Joe reassured him. That's when it hit me.

Pete was having an anxiety attack.

"It's going to be okay, Pete," Andy added, trying to keep his voice level.

That's when Pete snapped.

He jumped up, grabbing one of the pillows and chucked it across the room. "What if it's not going to be okay? What if I'm actually going insane?"

His hands found their way up to his hair and I watched in terror as he tangled his fingers into the black satin and yanked as hard as he could. He let out a cry of anger and sadness.

"I feel so isolated! I'm not sleeping! I just want my head to shut off, like, I just want to completely stop thinking about anything at all!"

I was beyond scared at this point. Pete was obviously very unstable and nobody was exactly helping him.

I turned to Joe, desperation in my eyes. "Do something to help him, Joseph, please!"

I quietly heard Joe mumble, "I can't," before Patrick finally pried Pete's fingers away from his head.

"Pete, calm down, please. We're all here for you. We will help you through anything."

Pete shook his head, violently, pushing Patrick away from him.

"I wonder what would happen if one day you woke up and I didn't. That probably would be the best thing ever," shaking his head, he closed his hand around his wrist, his nails leaving crescent moon shaped indents in his skin, the top layer of skin breaking under the pressure, "then no one would have to fucking deal with me anymore!"

Stepping toward him, leaving my side, Joe pulled Pete's hand from his wrist, tightly gripping it, his knuckles growing white, "We'd miss you, Pete! Damn it, we'd miss you!"

"Quit lying!" Pete yelled, stumbling away from all of us. "You wouldn't miss me at all! You would all be better off! I'm just a fucking asshole that nobody loves at all!"

He sunk to his knees and wrapped his arms around his head, letting out a deafening sob. "Make them stop. Somebody please, make my thoughts stop. I can't take it anymore."