**MAJOR trigger warning for this one.**
Here's where it starts, another night alone in the dark
Hate is running through my veins
Steady now I'm takin' aim
The darkness of day, all the skies are turning to gray
Jack sits on the cold marbled floor, his back pressed against the bathroom counter. His phone is across the small room, the screen cracked from the force he threw it with. Hate messages can still be seen on the screen as well as splattered tear drops that poured from Jack's cheeks as he read through the comments. Jack takes a deep shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping the gun tighter in his hands. The metal has now grown warm from the amount of time Jack has sat holding it in his shaking hands.
.
.
.
I can't tune the voices out
How'd they get so loud?
Cause there's a side, another side of me that can't get out
A darker side that no one knows about
Jack's head falls back against the counter with a dull thud. He can't take this anymore. The constant touring, never being in the same place for more than a few days at a time. The voices in his head, shouting and whispering inside his mind from the moment he lifts his head in the morning to the moment he lays it down again at night. It hurts his head- and his heart- to know that there's nothing left for him to look forward to anymore. He just can't seem to keep his life together when everything inside him is falling apart.
.
.
.
Can anybody hear me?
Can anybody see me?
Cause I think I lost my way
Put the gun down, just put the gun down
Jack just wants someone to see him. He wants someone to see him as he is inside, not his outwards persona. Because that Jack is a lie. Inside, he is just a jumbled mess of darkness and shadows. Misery lives just underneath his skin, haunting him, killing him slowly. He knows he's lost the light in his eyes. He's lost that spark that made him him. And he wants nothing more than to get it back. He wants to put the gun down but no matter how hard he tries, his hand stays clenched around the metal barrel of that small killing machine.
.
.
.
Here's where it ends
I'm never going back there again
Cause everytime I'm standin' by
The shadows in my line of sight
He wonders if he can just go back to when times were simpler. When he was a kid and all he had to worry about was homework and football and those meaningless fights he had with his mum. But he knows he can't. Those days are over. He grew up and with growing up comes responsibilities. Jack wants to be able to handle things on his own. But he knows he needs help.
Then he hears a noise drift up from downstairs. The sound of laughter. Rye's laughter. And he realizes that he can't give up. He can't stop his pain and not be the cause of anyone else's. Ending his pain will only make it worse for the boys, for his fans, for his family. His family. He can't give up on them. He can't leave his mom alone without him. He can't leave his granddad, his siblings. He can't leave them. He can't. And he won't.
His breath shudders almost to a stop when he hears a soft knock on the door.
"Jack? Can you open the door please?" He hears softly through the door.
.
.
.
Can anybody hear me?
Can anybody see me?
Cause I think I lost my way
Put the gun down, just put the gun down
Will anybody watch me?
Is someone gonna stop me?
This could be my last mistake
Jack drops the gun, startled. He kicks it into the corner and scrambles to his feet, using the doorknob to help him up. He shakily hurries to unlock the door, fingers fumbling over the lock before he finally manages to twist the knob. At the sight of Rye's worried face on the other side of the door, Jack collapses into his arms in a sobbing heap. Rye catches him, gently lifting the teary eyed, sobbing, beautiful mess in front of him and carrying him to his room. He pulls Jack to his chest, rocking him and soothing him whispering small reassurances- though he has no idea what's going on in the younger boy's head.
"I-I'm so lost Rye. I can't take it anymore. I-I need help." Jack whispers, finally admitting defeat against the raging war inside him. He needs help, and he needs it now.
"Okay baby. We'll get you help. That's all you needed to say." Rye murmurs, wrapping his arms around the trembling boy in his lap.
"I-I almost made my last mistake Rye. I-I could've been gone by now. And I-" Jack lets out another harsh sob, burying his face in Rye's chest.
"Shh, get it all out Jacky. You're gonna be alright. I'm here. You're not alone." Rye soothes, rubbing his hands along Jack's back. His fingers work gently through Jack's hair, calming the sobbing boy slightly.
"I-I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of trying to dull the storm inside my head. I-I feel like a dead man walking. Like the only emotions inside me are hatred and anger and loathing and sadness. I want happiness Rye. I just want to feel something again." Jack vents, his forehead resting on Rye's chest. He doesn't have the energy to hold his head up, all of it being spent trying to keep himself alive.
"You will Jack. You'll be happy again. I'm going to help you, I promise. But you have to promise me something in return." Rye says as he lifts Jack's head, looking into those green eyes that he loves.
"You have to promise me that you'll try your hardest not to pick the gun up again. Because Jack, I can't live without you. I want you here for forever. And if you do pick it up again, I want you to remember to put the gun down okay?" Rye whispers, resting his forehead against Jack's.
Jack nods, his eyes closing as tears threaten to spill again. "I promise Rye." He swears.
"I promise that I'll try my hardest to put the gun down."
