Updating early because Super Bowl L is on tonight and I will not miss my home team getting absolutely crushed like they do every year. #GoBroncos
(not heavily edited because it made me cry too much to read again)
***
He inhaled the brisk air of the icy cold night, and for once it felt like he could actually breathe. His eyes squinted against the harsh light of the convenience store as he waited for one of his friends to hurry up and get outside, so he wouldn't have to go back to the bus alone. Usually he'd be fine with it, but he didn't want to pass the front lounge by himself when Mitch was there huddled up on the couch, watching a movie with a blanket.
Thankfully, Scott trailed out of the store not long after he had the thought and the loud ding of the door echoed throughout the quiet lot.
"Ready?" Scott asked him, grinning brightly at the bass. He held up a bottle of some shitty gas station champagne, and raised an eyebrow in excitement. "Mitch is down in the dumps and this is literally the only alcohol they had."
Avi scrunched up his nose and hid away the gut wrenching feeling inside. So that's where Mitch got the idea of using alcohol to ignore the world -- not even that was their thing. "Not tonight. I already have a headache." It wasn't a lie, either. It just wasn't the real reason, because he always had a headache, but Scott didn't know that.
"What'd you get?" Scott asked, finally heading towards their parked bus where it was being filled with gas.
Avi held up a bottle of Advil and didn't even feel guilty as he did so. Ibuprofen could kill a person, right? It was a simple way to go, if not a little bit juvenile. It's not like he had all that many options in the middle of nowhere on a moving bus.
Scott hummed in approval, but squinted as he looked closer at the bottle. "200 tablets? Jesus, Avi. That's one mighty headache."
He shrugged his shoulders in agreement. "It was a better deal." If only Scott knew that the majority of the 200 would be in his bloodstream tonight.
He trailed behind Scott as they walked to the bus and wondered how long the man would mourn. Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Would he feel guilty that he didn't talk to Avi when he needed help? Would he look back on tonight ten years from now and realize that he could've stopped his death? They were all good questions that Avi would never get the answer to. He was already a dead man, and dead men didn't get their questions answered.
He didn't bother to look at Mitch as he strode right past the front lounge and into his own bunk. It would be stupid to tempt tempt fate by looking at him -- he might accidentally change his mind, and he didn't really have the energy for "getting better" right now.
The privacy of his bunk wasn't what he was really looking for, though. He traded the bottle of pills for his notebook at the foot of the bed and carried it with him to the back lounge, where Kevin and Kirstie were talking animatedly. Kevin didn't miss his entrance, and grinned brightly when he saw him enter the room. "So the bass man finally makes an appearance!" He said loudly, and Avi wanted to roll his eyes. "What's good, Avi?"
Avi shrugged and smiled back, no matter how much he didn't really want to. "Busy with songwriting, man. Lots of ideas." Blatant lie. He didn't have any ideas.
Kirstie smiled in that sweet way of hers, and he didn't feel guilty about what he was about to do until she did. "That's good, Avi," she chirped. "We were starting to get worried about you. Show us when you're finished?"
He nodded and sat on the tiny chair opposite of them, only slightly reconsidering what he was about to do. Choose happiness, as Kirstie always promoted. He definitely wasn't choosing happiness.
They left him alone when he opened his notebook and started pouring himself out into the letter. They must've assumed he was songwriting like he planned.
To...
He scribbled it out.
To whoever finds me,
No, that was even worse. He scribbled it out again.
To whomever it may concern,
He sighed in frustration. This was going to be harder than he thought. But an idea popped into his head, and things suddenly became very simple.
To Mitch,
He smiled to himself and settled with that one. After all, that's who this letter was really to, wasn't it? That's the only person he cared about right now.
He let his soul flow through his fingertips and to the tip of his pen as the words scribbled out onto the paper with black strokes of ink. Avi always did have a way with words, and this letter proved that, though some of his words smudged as his hand raced across the paper.
There's many things I could write here that I'm too shy to say in person, so I'll keep it simple. I never have been the most outgoing person, though I pride myself in pretending to be.
I never got a chance to tell you how beautiful you are. Well, that's not true - I've told you many times. But I've never told you so in the comfort of our hotel rooms at 3 AM, when no one could pretend that my affection wasn't genuine.
There are so many missed opportunities to tell you how angelic your voice is, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I chose not to mention how elegant your every step is when you pretend you're on a runway, or how ethereal your skin looks under the colored spotlights in the middle of a show when you're belting out your beautiful notes. Sometimes I wonder if you're a goddess.
I won't miss this opportunity to tell you, because it's the last one I'll ever get.
I love you, Mitch Grassi. I love you more than I love life itself, and I'm a fool for not having realized it sooner.
I'm sorry for what I have to do. I'm sorry that I can't hang on for another day, and I'm sorry that you'll have to find my body in my bunk, and I'm sorry that I never told you how bad things were like you begged me to do.
Please explain it to them, Mitch. Please explain my depression, and my insomnia, and my voice that's been falling apart, and how hard it was for me to keep the fact that I wasn't straight a secret, and how I'm writing my own suicide letter right next to the band without them having any clue because I didn't want anyone to know. I don't have the energy to explain it, because I don't have the energy for anything at all anymore. I'm tired, and you have to understand that I can finally sleep now. I can finally be free.
Tell the fans that I'm sorry. They don't deserve something like this. Tell them that they're all so special. Tell them to keep dreaming big and moving forward. Tell them that even though I'm gone and killed myself like an idiot, that it should never be an option for them. Tell them that I love them.
Tell Scott that it's not his fault. I know he's going to blame himself for not talking to me when I asked for help. Tell him he has the most powerful voice I've ever heard. Tell him that even though I broke up Pentatonix, he has a better chance as a solo artist anyway. Tell him that I love him.
Tell Kirstie that she's beautiful. You can tell her all about that hopeless crush I had on her when we first met - I promise I won't mind. Tell her that she has the kindest and sweetest soul I've ever met. Tell her that after I die, she should take up that offer of being the next Disney princess, because she's already a queen. Tell her that I love her.
Tell Kevin that he's the best friend a man could ever have. This is going to hit him hard, and I know that. Tell him he has such a beautiful future of helping others through music, even if he doesn't see it yet. Tell him that he's the most intelligent man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Tell him to pursue that Triptyq album that he's been putting off. Tell him that I love him.
Tell Esther that I love her. Tell her that I love her, and that I'm sorry, and that I love her.
Don't worry about my family. I'm sure that Esther will be there to comfort them. You don't owe anything to them, like how I owe everything to you.
I love you, Mitch. I could scream it from the mountaintops so the whole world would know, but this will have to do. I love you, and this is not your fault. It's my own.
Use my death as an example, because there has to be some use out of it, right? Spread awareness. Help people feel not so alone in the world. Let people know that suicide is a pressing issue, even in the happiest of people.
Be good for me, yeah? Take up that modeling offer you've been considering. Everyone knows that you have a body that could send a man to his grave. You have such a bright future - don't waste it mourning me.
I love you.
So long, and goodnight.
- Avi. <3
He ripped the paper out of his notebook and folded it quickly, fighting the tears that begged to fall from his eyes. It wouldn't be right to cry right now -- not when everyone was right next to him. Luckily, Scott came barreling in the room with a tiny Mitch and significantly larger Alex in tow, and Avi felt like he had a legitimate excuse to slip away.
No one even noticed he was gone. He didn't blame them.
He folded the paper into thirds and tucked it safely underneath his pillow, before trading out his notebook with a water bottle and the bottle of pills he'd stashed there earlier. His heart pumped loudly in his chest -- this was happening. He was going to do this.
With steps fueled by more confidence than he actually had, he made his way to the little tiny bathroom and closed the door shut behind him. His own reflection stared back at him, just like it did on the first night he realized that depression was going to be a huge problem.
It was funny, how all those months ago, he looked worse than he did now. When he first really started losing control of his life, he didn't take the time to hide the fact that he was suffering. It seemed so childish now -- if he dressed like how he really felt inside, then people would mistake him for a zombie. The only thing he was really great at anymore was putting effort into his appearance.
The only thing that really gave away how much he's been through were his eyes. They seemed haunted in the bright fluorescent of the bathroom, like they'd suffered through too much for too long.
He agreed with that statement, really, as he popped open the bottle of Advil and shook out one of the dark coral pills into the palm of his waiting hand. He rolled the pill around with his thumb, before pinching it and bringing it closer to his lips. 200 mg each. He'd need quite a few if he were going to sleep forever.
He stared into his own reflection as he placed it between his lips, swallowing it down his dry throat painfully. With surprisingly still hands, he chased it down with a tiny sip from his water bottle. A stray tear rolled down his cheek, though he didn't feel any kind of grief. He didn't feel anything at all, actually, and that's why he was doing this.
So that's how he spent the next ten minutes -- shaking a pile of pills into his hand, throwing them all into his mouth, tossing his head back as he swallowed them, then slicking them down with tiny sips of water. He shoved as many as he could into his mouth before his body physically rejected them, and he couldn't keep swallowing anymore.
It was probably more of a mental thing, anyway. He'd only taken about 50, but his throat absolutely refused to cooperate when he tried to take another. Maybe it's because that was only thing he's eaten today, and his body knew that it wasn't actually food.
50 would do the job, right?
With a shaky exhale, he twisted the cap back onto the bottle and looked at his reflection for the last time in his life, then turned the bathroom light off as he left.
As soon as he opened the bathroom door, he realized just how loud the bus actually was. Everyone was obviously having some kind of wild party without any concern about Avi's whereabouts, and he didn't even blame them. It was so easy for them to forget about including him -- they wouldn't mourn him for very long at all.
It was amusing how happy and chipper they were, when they had no idea what was about to go down behind Avi's bunk curtain. They must've been partying because Ben had finally given him the "bad" news, because that was the only significant thing that had happened within the last 24 hours.
Well. They'd be getting a very (un)pleasant surprise very soon.
It didn't matter to him anyway, like most things in his (soon to be over) life. He tossed the bottle of pills next to his pillow and slid in effortlessly, yanking his curtain shut and pulling his blanket over his torso. He struggled to pull his phone and headphones out of his pocket, and when he did, he frowned when he saw the two missed calls from Esther 6 minutes ago.
Oh well. It was much too late for him now.
He slipped his headphones in his ears and shuffled all of his music, staring up at the ceiling of his bunk with a blank expression. Soon his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open and his body started to tingle as it went numb, so he slowly let himself fall into a peaceful slumber, with only one comforting thought on his mind.
He wouldn't wake up again. There would be no tomorrow for Avi.
Darkness overtook his mind, leaving him with nothing -- and he was okay with it.
The last breath he took before he lost consciousness forever was everything he imagined it would be -- soft, weightless, calm, and light.
Peaceful. It was peaceful.
He was finally at peace.
***
thinkin i'll end it here yay or nay
:)