ANIMALS [Mitch Grassi fanfiction]

12

After Mitch woke up and started to get ready for heading to the concert hall, he nearly had another panic attack in the bathroom. Scott literally told that crazy guy that he was allowed to see him. He was nauseous, he was dizzy and desperate.

He slept through the sound check but the band has promised him that it was alright and they were able to finish his part before the show. While he was applying some concealer Beau was sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through social media, seemingly not knowing about the anxiety Mitch was feeling that moment.

Somehow the whole life felt like a bad joke. Like a horrible nightmare.

He wasn't able to say a word without being bitchy so he just pressed his lips together, took his bag and left with Beau in silence. There was a tension between them. Beau didn't even want to touch him anymore. Despite everything he said Mitch knew that he was still pissed and hurt.

At least he gave Mitch a chance to talk about this whole stalker-thing after they got home. That was more than nothing and much better than breaking up.

He really didn't feel like making a show that day – even though he was sleeping long, he was still exhausted and he felt like nothing was able to put a smile on his face. They all got ready for the VIP and he was sharing a dressing room with Scott. Mark was out somewhere, Beau was having a phone call on the corridor. Their makeup artist just left and their time was getting closer and closer. He literally felt like his legs weren't even able to keep him up anymore. The stress was making him nauseous and he needed to sit down. He hid his face in his palms and tried to calm his breathing, hoping that he won't throw up right before the VIP.
"Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?" Scott asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.
"I'm just nervous," Mitch answered shortly. He was literally on the verge of a panic attack again so he really needed to do something.
"Why? We did this so many times."
Mitch didn't say anything to that. He knew that if he would talk about the guy, Scott would just try to brush it off. There was the well-known pain in stomach and he knew that he can't hold it anymore. "Fuck," he mumbled. That was it. He was literally getting sick from stress.

He stumbled into the bathroom and barely had time to close the door before his stomach gave the last warning. He felt pathetic.
"Mitchy?" Scott knocked on the door. It was locked and Mitch didn't want to let him in. He had enough of looking weak. But at the same time everything was a little bit too much for his senses. The lights were too bright, the noises were too loud, the weird pain is his stomach felt too much. He couldn't go out there. He wasn't able to face his stalker again. That guy had the chance to touch him multiple times during VIP and Mitch felt sick and dirty only thinking about that.
"Baby, open the door please!" Great, now Beau was there, too. At least Mitch only needed to push through two days until he could finally tell him everything. Then things will get better. Hopefully.

Damn, he was so anxious for that stupid VIP. He usually didn't take Xanax before shows because it made him slow down and tired but now he really needed it. There was no way he was able to make this show without it.

Thankfully their makeup artist was amazing and didn't need to redo the whole thing. Everything stayed there as far as Mitch could see in the bathroom mirror. He finally opened the door but couldn't go anywhere because Beau was standing right in the front of him. "Are you really just nervous?" he asked and when Mitch nodded, he continued. "You really don't have to be. You guys did this so many times, it always ended up amazing."

'You don't have to be.' Mitch hated hearing this. 'Just stop worrying. Just quit being nervous.' Like it was that easy. Obviously he didn't have to be stressed but he was and it couldn't be magically healed by saying that he should stop.