this will be a difficult one. please keep yourself safe and if you are easily triggered, please do not read this. tw: panic attacks, self-harm, suicidal thoughts
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The pain inside him was a living thing. Formless and deadly, it felt like tiny little needles pricking him everywhere inside. He was drowning in sadness, inhaling water every single time he drew breath. There was no escape. He was on tour when she shattered him, shattered them; there was no escape. His friends kept asking if he was okay. Awsten didn't know what "okay" was anymore, but he needed them to leave him alone. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm dying. I'm fine.
Two days after the phone call that broke him, because she was such a fucking coward that she had to break up with him over the phone, Awsten wrote a song, recorded it, and sent it off into the world. He unlisted the video on YouTube, tweeted the link, and deleted it a minute later. He didn't need the label blowing him up, yelling about stupid shit he didn't care about.
He should've stayed off social media. It was toxic and disgusting normally, but he certainly couldn't handle it now. She posted some flimsy, fake ass paragraph, typed in her Notes app like the fucking cliche she was, and the fans were going nuts. More than once, Awsten found himself hovering his thumb over the button that would delete his Twitter. He wanted to be done. He wanted to delete his social media, break up the band, and let the ground swallow him whole.
The worst part of all of this was Entertainment. They were releasing their highly anticipated follow-up to Double Dare and Awsten felt sick just thinking about it. The entire album was a love letter to her, telling their love story, the good and the bad. He was going to marry her. She was his final destination.
But now the thought of releasing the album into the world make his stomach roll inside him. Soon everyone would hear those songs, the soundtrack to his humiliation. Everyone would know just how fucking much she meant to him, how desperate he had been for her attention and affection, how much of himself he had changed or stifled to keep her happy.
Awsten had called Benji first, told him that he wanted the entire album trashed, scraped, deleted. He didn't care how disappointed the fans would be. He couldn't, wouldn't, let those songs be released. Nobody could know. He was so humiliated, embarrassed. "It's too late, Aws. The record company has the album. I can't stop it. I'm sorry," Benji had said. Whatever was left of Awsten inside was gone now. He was hollow, a ghost with a beating heart.
The only thing left to do was wait.
They released a video for Lucky People not long after, a simple but painful visual metaphor. Awsten believed in the intelligence of their fans, knew they'd spend hours on Twitter debating and discussing it, picking apart the meaning of everything. They filmed it in Boston after the show, which seemed only fitting because it was this city that he had whispered to her that he was in love with her and wanted her all to himself.
What everyone didn't know was that this video, this specific song with this specific visual, was Awsten's goodbye. People usually left a note, didn't they? Some would apologize, some would point fingers. Awsten was sorry. He was sorry to his friends and family, who would all surely cry when they found him dead. He was sorry to the fans he was letting down. He always tried to be so positive and uplifting, but he couldn't lift himself up this time.
He was standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming so loudly his throat was going hoarse, but nobody looked up. Nobody cared. Diediediediediediedie.
"You're going to be okay, aren't you, Awsten?" Geoff asked him. Tour was finally over and they were going home. Awsten's entire body itched, finally able to be alone. Soon. It was so soon.
Otto was getting on a connecting flight to head back to Houston, excited to see his girlfriend. Geoff was the same. Awsten had been itchy to get back to his girlfriend as well but now he was alone. There was nobody waiting for him at LAX and the silence of the terminal they were standing in now was deafening. She had put his things in storage, or so she said. He had nowhere to go.
"I'm fine. I just wanna go home." Awsten's voice was steady despite the turmoil inside. His phone vibrates and, for the briefest moment, he hoped it was her saying she's sorry, that she didn't mean it, that she wants him to come home to her.
ciarahanna20: I have so much more space in my phone now.
The air was knocked out of his lungs almost immediately at her tweet. He couldn't fucking breathe. The world was starting to spin around him, faster and faster, disorienting him. Geoff said something again but Awsten's head was underwater. Tears ran down his face, hot and unforgiving. He couldn't move, his feet rooted to the ground like they were encased in concrete.
Awsten attempted to inhale but it felt like he was breathing in mud. The walls of the LAX terminal were closing in on him. The room was getting smaller, the walls were coming closer, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think. Everything was moving too fast, coming closerclosercloser. He was going to suffocate and die. Diediediediedie.
Black spots began to form in his vision. He needed to leave. He needed air. But he couldn't move. Everything was wrongwrongwrong and he needed to go. He couldn't breathe he couldn't move. Can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tfuckingbreathe.
"Awsten!" Geoff grabbed Awsten's shoulder, a gesture that was supposed to snap him out of this, but Awsten recoiled like he'd been shot. Geoff's hand scorched him, the flesh under his hoodie stinging, burning. His body is hot and cold like a fever. He was dying. Diediediediedie.
"Do-don't tttttouch." Awsten's voice was slurred, his teeth chattering.
"Okay. I won't. But I need you to breathe for me." Geoff's voice was calm, soothing. There was no inflection in his voice at all, a stark difference to the roar in Awsten's ears. "Can you sit down?" In the blur around him, Awsten noticed a chair nearby and sat down in it. "Good, Awsten. Now lean forward and put your head between your knees. That's right. Just like that."
Awsten was in no position to argue with Geoff. He did as he was told, leaning forward to put his head between his knees. There was something about this motion that was calming. Awsten closed his eyes until he could feel the pressure on his chest start to subside, the adrenaline seeping out of him, replaced only by heavy exhaustion. His breathing began to even out and the spots in his vision started to disappear.
When he was more put together, Awsten lifted his head and looked at Geoff, his wonderfully patient best friend, who was sitting cross-legged in front of him, a look of concern on his face. Awsten knew he was eager to get home to his lovely girlfriend. He hoped he didn't make Geoff miss his flight. God, he was such a fuck up.
"Are you okay?" Geoff asked after a long few moments of silence. "What happened just now?"
"She tweeted. I ju-just saw a tweet. I don't... I just..." Awsten hated himself for the way he stuttered. "I'm ssssssorry, Geoff."
"No." Geoff's voice was firm. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Awsten. She fucked up, okay? It's not your fault."
It's all your fault. It's all your fault. It's all your fault. Faultfaultfaultdiediediedie.
"I just want to sleep now. I'm gonna stay in the hotel here at the airport and fly out tomorrow. I can't do any more flying today." Awsten's voice was much more steady, surprising both himself and Geoff. He lifted his eyes, wanting to take one last look at one of his truest and dearest friend, memorize the shape of his face, knowing it was the last time he would ever see him. "Goodbye, Geoff. Have a safe flight home, okay?"
Geoff was not convinced but he allowed Awsten to get up from the seat and leave. There was something very bad about this, something that did not sit right inside him. He waited until Awsten was out of his line of vision before he called Jawn, who was supposed to be waiting for him at their gate to fly to Houston.
"Something bad is happening," Geoff said instead of greeting his friend when he picked up the phone. "Awsten just had a horrible panic attack. I don't know what Ciara tweeted but it hit him like a train."
"He's been off since the breakup. He's just sad, Geoff. But we'll keep an eye on him on the plane. Maybe he'll just sleep the whole way," Jawn said. "I'll call his Mom and let her know what's going on."
"He's not coming with us," Geoff said quietly. "He just left me. He's going to stay in a hotel and fly out to Houston tomorrow."
Heavy silence. "He can't be alone, Geoff."
"He said 'goodbye' to me just now." Realization smacked Geoff in the face. "Jawn, call 911. I think he's going to try and kill himself. I'm going after him."
"Hurry, Geoff. Stop him."
Geoff had never been a runner. He was more musically-inclined, with the soul of a poet. But Geoff had never run so fast in his life. He needed to get to Awsten, needed to stop him, needed to save him.
"Did a guy with purple hair just check in?" Geoff asked the front desk attendant. The young girl looked alarmed, her eyes wide, as Geoff slammed himself into the desk, panting hard.
"Yes, he did. But--"
"What room is he in?" Geoff demanded. She looked confused. "Please. He's my best friend and I think he was going to kill himself."
Bypassing the elevator, Geoff took the stairs three at a time all the way up to the fourth floor, hoping and praying that he was not too late.
Awsten thought it was fitting that he was given a room on the fourth floor. It was only fitting, after all. He had given Ciara four chances in their relationship. They would fight, he would try to leave and she would pull him back in. One two three four.
Digging through his bag, he found the bottle of anti-depressants he'd been taking. He'd started going to therapy for her because she wouldn't take that he was sad all the time. He had thought she was being kind, worrying about him because she was a good girlfriend, but now he was starting to think that was a lie. Was anything real in their relationship? No, probably not.
Awsten placed the bottle on the bed, staring at it, willing himself to do it. The static in his veins made him itchy and he dug his nails into his wrist to itch away the feeling. He'd been doing so good not biting his nails recently, his anxiety was calmer now that he was taking medication. He itched at his skin until his nails broke the skin, the pain pulling him out of his thoughts. Awsten looked down at the scratches on his wrist, frowning. He couldn't do anything right, could he?
It took him four handfuls to swallow all the pills in the bottle. One two three four. He thought maybe he would be scared of dying. But there was nothing left to be scared of. His friends would be sad for a little while but they'd move on, replace him. His parents and sister would cry but they would move on, sell his bedroom furniture and turn his room into an office. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care. Diediediedie.
"Awsten, open the door!" It was Geoff's voice on the other side of the door. Awsten almost laughed. Geoff was a good friend and Awsten was sorry he wasn't a better one. "Awsten, whatever you're doing in there, stop it! Please! Let me in!"
"Sorry," Awsten whispered and opened the window, climbing out onto the balcony of his hotel room.
He climbed up onto the railing and sat there, perched precariously. It was a long way to fall. The pills were starting to kick in, the overdose making his head feel heavy. The sound of the door being kicked in was the push he needed.
"Sorry," he said again and let go, falling hard and fast into the unforgiving darkness.
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author's note--
i have a second part to this written, if y'all want to read it. if not, i'll leave this as is. worst really is one of the saddest songs i've ever heard. sorry for this.