Prompt: As it happens when you start gaining traction as a "celebrity", Colby starts getting more and more messages from people hating on him. It gets to be so much that he inadvertently lets it consume his life. Conflicts with his roommates arise and Colby starts spiralling deep into a pit of depression.
TRIGGER WARNING: Below are mentions of self-harm, suicide, low self-esteem and abuse. Continue with caution.
Being a YouTuber, there's bound to be haters. That's something Colby's aware of and has since learned to grow a thicker shell against. He knows how to handle one or two comments blatantly insulting him or what he does (or both) and doesn't let it get to him too much. However, he only knows how to deal with one or two of these hate comments...
Colby groans as he's awoken by the sound of his phone going off, alerting him of a notification. Rolling over, he tries to salvage as much sleep as he can, considering he's still tired and it's pretty early in the morning (plus he went to bed late). However, the second he feels himself drifting off to sleep again, his phone dings again. And again. And again.
Groaning in annoyance, Colby rolls back over and blinks his eyes open, squinting at the light shining into his bedroom. He haphazardly flings him hand around onto his bedside table until he grasps his phone in his hand, pulling it his face. All he planned on doing was turning it onto 'Do Not Disturb' mode and falling right back asleep, but when he saw what notifications he got, he realized he wouldn't be going back to sleep with them in mind.
Notification from: Twitter
New trending hashtag! Check it out!
@blueeyesberry tweeted: #ColbyBrockisoverparty I used to stan him in middle school but now everything he does annoys me idk why
@colbybrockisover_ tweeted: #colbybrockisoverparty idk who started this hashtag but honestly im not complaining #colbybrocksucks #endcolbybrock #ruinhiscareer
@i_hate_colby_brock tweeted: This asshole has been jaunting around youtube like he owns the place for wayyy too long, lets all rally up and end this mans career! 👊 #ColbyBrockisoverparty #FINALLY
@blankisover._ tweeted: Who even is colby brock? He looks like one of those douchebags who fucks you over in highschool then comes back at like 30 and fucks you over even more #colbybrockisoverparty
@michelleriagimonex tweeted: OK but has anyone else noticed that Coby Brock or whatever his name is looks like an offbrand uglier version of dan howell? No? Oh well, it's still true #colbybrockisoverparty
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Colby's heart sinks as he scrolls down on his phone screen, realizing every single notification (even not linked to Twitter) is some sort of bash of him/hashtag about he's over party? Dozens of tweets, dozens of dm's on instagram, dozens of comments on his posts. The hashtag 'Colby Brock is over party' is even TRENDING on Twitter! And that makes Colby shrink in on himself.
Almost like he forgot about sleep, Colby spends the few hours looking through every single tweet and dm and comment, his heart cracking and breaking with each message. He's used to one of those comments now and then like 'ur youtube videos suck, loser!' but not this tirade of dozens and dozens of hate comments. It feels really crushing to know so many strangers who don't even know you are so full of anger and hate that they push that on you when they don't even know the half of it.
Eleven o'clock rolls around and Colby finally stops looking through all the hate messages, each one stabbing into him more than the last. Colby forces himself to get up, his mood forever changed from that morning alone. He heads to the bathroom and avoids his own reflection as he starts brushing his teeth. Eventually he looks up and, moreso than ever before, he really starts picking at his flaws. That one comment, saying he's and 'uglier' version of Dan Howell, that one really hit close to home.
Despite the fact that everyone assumes Colby is super confident given his traditional attractiveness, he's actually a pretty modest and sometimes insecure guy. He doesn't actually dwell too much on his looks and he even has insecurities about himself that go unnoticed by many. But now, after reading so much hate about himself, he feels worse about himself than he ever has before. Even when he was physically and verbally bullied in high school. This is worse considering the multitude of people and all the contrasting insults coming from each.
Quickly finishing up brushing his teeth, Colby just glares at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before trudging back out to his room to grab a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Usually when he feels insecure, he covers as much of himself as he can (the weather also plays an important role in that). He puts on some black sweats and a white tee and grabs his phone and earbuds before heading down to the kitchen.
He's going to seek out validation from his roommates to feel better. If not, he'll just end up stewing in his own self-pity which will inevitably get worse and worse and worse.
Colby heads over to the kitchen and peers into the living room, where he sees Jake and Aaron playing Rocket League on the big screen, Corey and Devyn hanging out in the other living room and Sam and Kat are talking in the kitchen. Colby plasters on a smile and goes into the kitchen, nodding at Sam who nods back at him as a 'good morning'.
Colby heads straight for the fridge but falters when he finds himself wrapped up in his own thoughts. With his insecurities, he feels fat-in a bad way. He feels kind of hypocritical since he believes there's nothing wrong with being over or under weight whereas when it comes to him, he feels like it's a bad thing, especially when he believes he's gained weight (even when he hasn't).
"Yo, Colby?" Sam's voice snaps Colby out of his thoughts and that's when he realizes he's just been standing in front of the fridge, unmoving and silent for a few minutes, lost in thought.
Colby blushes in embarrassment. "Yeah, bro?"
"You okay?" Sam tries, nervously glancing at Katrina who too looks concerned.
Colby forces himself to nod and he puts on a fake smile. "Yeah, bro. Why wouldn't I be? I'm good just... just a little tired is all."
Sam nods, unconvinced, but lets Colby go. Sighing in relief, Colby turns back to the fridge and decides against grabbing anything to eat. Instead, he just pours himself a glass of water before turning around to survey his friends around him. They all look so happy; Aaron and Jake laughing and playfully fighting with each other whilst playing Rocket League, Corey and Devyn talking, happy to be in each other's company and lastly, Sam and Kat who are both talking and laughing, happy.
Which leaves Colby; alone and spiralling deep within his heightened insecurities without anyone to comfort him. Not that he deserves it though.
Without a word, Colby heads up to his bedroom and closes his door behind him, throwing productivity out the window as he lays on his bed, scrolling through even more hate comments despite how bad they hurt him.
Later...
Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, Colby stares into his own eyes, lost in thought. It's been a few days since the comments first came pouring in and now, there's a floodgate of thousands of comments hating on him. And the worst part is, Colby has no idea what sparked it, why all these people are so suddenly hating on him. And now, it just won't stop.
Colby's never been the type of person to do drastic things when he's upset. He's never been the kind to contemplate self-harm but now... now he's starting to think more and more about it. It somewhat scares him that's he's familiarizing himself with the idea to purposefully hurt himself but his depression and self-esteem are becoming worse than ever which really makes him contemplate ways to... hold himself accountable for being, in his own words, such a piece of shit.
Colby splashes his face in water with trembling hands, unable to appease his yearning to hurt himself, as much as he doesn't want to admit it. Wiping down his face, Colby heads back over to his bed and collapses onto his back, eyes meeting the ceiling as he goes into a more in depth pondering of how to go about it and what to do.
He has this craving, like he feels like he deserves it. Like he deserves the pain for being such a useless piece of shit. Like he needs to do it, he needs to punish himself for just being who he is. What better way to do it than to inflict pain on himself? That way he's punished rightfully for everything.
That night, Colby decides to go out and get some razor blades. Grabbing his wallet and throwing a sweater over his head, Colby puts his shoes on and sneaks out of the house as quietly as he can. It's dark and he's sure most of the roommates are still awake, he just doesn't want them to know what he's doing.
As soon as he's out of the traphouse, Colby begins on his way to the convenience store just on the corner of their street. His hands are trembling and he keeps balling his hands into fists in a feeble attempt to control the itch he has to hurt himself. He digs his nails into his skin as much as he can without breaking the skin, not wanting to go into a convenience store to buy razor blades with blood dripping down his palms.
Pushing the hood off his head, Colby approaches the convenience store and pushes the doors open, letting go of his fists as he makes a beeline for the razor blades. It takes him a minute to locate them and when he does, he takes a package and hesitates. What will the guy think of him just walking into the store at eleven at night to buy a single package of razors while he's dressed head to toe in black and most certainly looks depressed?
So, Colby goes to the drinks section and picks up a package of Dr. Pepper, knowing Sam with benefit off it since he doesn't want to buy something for himself, considering he won't eat it.
Putting on the most believable smile he can, Colby walks up to the front of the store and puts down his items. He chats with the cashier for a minute, hoping the small talk won't tip the guy off, before Colby buys the items and leaves, trembling minutely in fear of being caught.
Walking back to the traphouse, Colby feels purpose and he has this boost of adrenaline pushing him forward. He feels like he has the answer, he has the one thing that will provide him with closure, something that will get rid of his urge to hurt himself. Something to finally punish himself for everything he is.
Colby quietly opens the front door to the traphouse and quietly pads upstairs, hesitating in front of Sam's closed door. A ghost of a smile appears on his lips and Colby quietly bends down and sets the package of Dr. Pepper just in front of the door.
Slinking back into his room, Colby closes his door and locks it before kicking his shoes off and shrugging off his sweater. He goes straight to his bathroom and turns the light on, closing the door and locking it behind him just for good measure. Taking the package of razor blades, Colby stands in front of his mirror and opens the box, trembling yet feeling peace in his chest, almost numbness where he should be scared or upset. But he's not, he's prepared and just... numb.
Colby takes out a razor blade and sets the box down on the sink. He twirls it between his fingers before looking up at himself. His hair is messy and flopped over one eye, his eyes are bloodshot and have visible bags beneath them (due to his purposeful lack of sleep), his face is white and expression hard and solemn. He looks sad and if you look into his eyes for long enough, you can uncover the pain and suffering laying just beneath the surface.
Looking down, Colby sinks down to the tiled floor, sitting down with legs sprawled in front of him as he holds the blade against the skin on his left arm. He holds it there for a second, the coolness of the steel blade simply resting against his skin. He finds himself hesitating, not in fear but just in anticipation of what's to come.
Without a second thought, Colby presses the blade into his skin and swipes it across his arm in one swift motion, grimacing at the bite of the pain to come. He looks down at his arm, holding it up to his face as the throbbing feels... good. He stares at the cut, the blood beginning to pool from the incision and for some reason, the warm blood running down his arm too feels good. He feels good, the pain feels good. And while that should scare Colby, it only spurs him to continue.
One cut turns to two, three, four, five, six, seven, so many that he looses track. After a few minutes, his arm is barely distinguishable beyond the blood. Almost like a smack to the face, he realizes he should probably do something about the wounds leaking blood.
He stands up in a rush and thrusts his arm under the tap, turning on the water to wash away the blood. Almost in a panic now, Colby grasps the towel hung up and, once the blood is washed away, he presses the cloth to it and presses down firmly, trying to stop the bleeding. He's just looking for the momentary pain, the throbbing, he doesn't really want to bleed out.
After drying off his arm, Colby grabs some toilet paper and presses it to his arm, pressing down enough to fully stop the bleeding. Dazed and feeling somewhat high from the thrill of the pain, Colby lays back down onto his bed and stares back up at the ceiling, slipping back into thought.
Never once did he expect to be one of those people who hurt themselves. This isn't the kind of thing he expected nor wanted but now, it's just apart of his life. And he likes it now, it feels good. Which means he isn't prepared to stop anytime soon.
Later...
The next day Colby's brought out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. He only managed to drift off for five hours before awakening and being caught up in his thoughts yet again. He hasn't cut yet but he's been thinking about the feeling for hours.
As soon as he hears the knock on the door, Colby grabs a sweatshirt from his desk, mildly dizzy from getting up so fast. He throws it over his head before letting out a muffled, "Coming." As soon as the sweatshirt is on him, he goes over to his door and opens it, ruffling his hair as he's met with the sight of Sam standing there. "Oh, hey, man. What's up?"
Sam looks up at Colby, visibly concerned and sighs. "We need to talk, man."
Colby falters, face going white. "Uh, y-yeah sure. What about?"
Sam hesitates. "Could we talk in my room?"
Swallowing down the fear of whatever Sam's about to talk to him about, Colby nods slowly and follows as Sam leads him to his bedroom. Sam closes the door and Colby just finds himself standing there awkwardly, unsure what to say to initiate whatever conversation Sam wants to have. "So, what's up?" He finally manages after another minute of silence.
Sam looks up at Colby and begins. "Colby, are-are you okay? I mean this past week... you've been really different. Something about you is, like... off. You're quiet and sad and you look exhausted, man. What's going on with you?"
Colby feels himself stop breathing for a second, startled. "N-nothing, bro. I'm fine."
"Come on, Colby. I've known you for what? Seven years? I can tell when something's wrong, bro. Just talk to me."
"No!" Colby suddenly exclaims. He sighs. "You wouldn't understand..." He mutters under his breath.
"There's only one way to find out," Sam counters, surprising Colby that he heard him. "What's wrong? Please talk to me, dude. I'm really worried about you. We all are."
"No! I-I can't..." Colby feels his emotions coming up, the repressed sadness and fear brimming to the top talking to Sam.
"Colby, what is this about?" Sam demands.
"Fine!" Colby yells. "You really wanna know? Have you even been on Twitter in the last week, bro? Have you even bothered to see what the fuck people are tweeting about, and posting, and commenting and messaging me about? Are you that fucking blind that you haven't noticed a hashtag dedicated to ruining my career is fucking TRENDING on Twitter?"
Sam's left somewhat speechless as he regains his thoughts. "A hashtag is trending on Twitter? Really? That's what this is about?" Something about Sam's tone makes Colby squirm. He sounds judgemental and condescending, like Colby's insane for being bothered about it. "You've been all weird this week just because of a hashtag on Twitter?"
"Just?" Colby almost shouts. "Just?!"
"Yeah!" Sam exclaims. "Dude, we all get this crap sometime or another. It's apart of the fucking job. What, you never thought you'd get any hate just cuz teenage girls think you're hot? Grow up, Colby."
Colby feels his heart shatter and he grows angry and irritable. "What the fuck Sam? How are you supposed to know what does or doesn't hurt me?"
Sam actually has the audacity to chuckle at that. "Dude, you do realize everyone on the internet gets trolls sometime or another, right? You've had them for years and now, what? Just cuz they're spreading a hashtag they've got you hot and bothered? Dude, come on."
"Shut the fuck up!" Colby yells. "This isn't just about one comment, Sam. It's about fucking hundreds and thousands of comments all coming out of the fucking blue. Don't you dare tell me what the fuck is going on when you've been too self-absorbed to even fucking look into why I'm so depressed!"
"Self-absorbed?" Sam demands. "I'm here right now, confronting you because I noticed something was wrong! I could see it in your face and actions, I just didn't know why! What, you thought immediately after seeing you all depressed I was just gonna hop on twitter and look at the trending hashtags?"
Colby can feel his self-esteem plummeting with each comment, he can feel each comment breaking his heart even more, and it just makes him wonder why any of the roommates put up with him. He feels his self-image shattering along with any confidence that his friends still like him. However, he's far too heated and angry to give into Sam, to admit all his insecurities especially since he knows Sam wouldn't care.
So instead, he just fires back. "I thought you would have the fucking audacity to check! You ever notice people are tweeting this shit to you too? They're telling you to dump me as a friend because I'm apparently the worst person on YouTube and I'm apparently a dick! You ever noticed that? Or did you just think it was one fucking troll that God forbid ever made me feel less about myself? No, you were too busy frolicking with Kat, too busy with your fucking girlfriend to realize your best friend is in a lot of pain-"
Before he can even finish his sentence, Sam surges forward and punches Colby as hard as he can across the face. The sound of flesh on flesh impact splits through the quiet air as Sam's fist collides with Colby's cheek. The impact throws Colby backwards where he stumbles until he hits the door, Sam standing where he was before, hand clenched in a fist and chest heaving from the adrenaline rush.
It takes Colby a second to process what just happened. His cheek is on fire and he covers it with his hand, looking up at Sam with both fear and confusion in his eyes as he swallows harshly. Did Sam just fucking punch him?
Sam's face is clouded with both realization and guilt before he hardens his expression. "Yo, don't fucking talk about Katrina like that. Get out and don't talk to me."
Feeling betrayed and confused, not to mention depressed and insecure, Colby wordlessly opens Sam's door from behind him and slams it shut, speed-walking to his own room where he closes the door behind him and proceeds to have a panic attack. His breaths come out rapid as he attempts to clear his mind, tears running down his cheeks as he slides down the door. His breathing is erratic and he's not in his right mind, every part of him trembling as he can't help but slip into another mind.
Dragging himself up, Colby stumbles into the bathroom and stares at his reflection in the mirror through misty eyes, a purple bruise already blossoming on his cheek where Sam... punched him. Colby still can't believe Sam actually punched him in the face for what? Speaking his truth? He cannot believe Sam would ever punch him like that.
Colby takes a few seconds to stare at the bruise on his cheek before he looks down at the sink in front of him, more specifically the razor blade laying in a puddle of blood. He must have forgot to clean the sink after he... cut last night. Speaking of which, Colby's getting an unfightable urge to do so now.
Colby goes to the bathroom door and slams it shut, locking it behind him as he goes back to the sink and picks up the small blade, running it over his arm as hard and as fast as he can, ignoring as the blood coats his arm once more. He keeps going, keeps scarring up his arm until he can no longer hold the blade any longer. His arm is pulsating in pain and there are dozens of cuts running all across the skin, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. The blood barely makes the cuts visible however anyone who sees his arm would know they're there.
Colby throws the blade across the room and blood starts dripping onto the floor from his arm. He doesn't even notice or even realize as he looks at himself in the mirror again. All the comments he's read over the past week come roaring back to him, not to mention Sam's words and actions. All of it comes crushing down onto him and Colby's mind finally snaps. He thinks about the pain, the agony, everything he's caused. How much better off the world would be without him? I mean, from what Sam said and the thousands of comments hating on him, wouldn't they all be relieved if he was gone? Wouldn't it be helpful?
Without a second thought, Colby whirls around in the bathroom, eyes seeking something. His eyes narrow on a bottle of Advil he must have left in his bathroom last time he was under the weather. He stands up and takes a deep breath, walking over to the sink. He reaches his hand out to grab the bottle when a bang on the door makes him jump out of his skin almost.
"Colby?" It's Corey. Another knock. "Dude, Sam told me what happened. He's really sorry bro and we're worried about you. Open the door, dude, let's just talk this out. Please."
Colby scoffs and shakes his head, grabbing the pill bottle in a steely grip. He kind of just holds it for a second while Corey pounds on the door, unsure of how to proceed. He backs up and sits down on the toilet lid, taking a deep breath before twisting open the cap. It pops open with an audible crack, one that cuts through the quiet air. Colby opens his bloody, trembling palm and shakes a handful of at least a dozen pills into his hand, somewhat shifting it in his palm as he closes the bottle back up and keeps it in his hand, clutching it tightly.
He's barely aware of Corey banging on his door, this time desperately as if he knows something is wrong. Colby just takes a deep breath, ready to end his suffering and rid the world of him (since everyone thinks he's such a piece of shit, himself included) and throws the pills into his mouth.
As if on cue, the door bursts open and Colby's eyes almost bug out of his head as he inadvertently swallows the pills. He coughs and looks up to see Corey standing there, panting with his door kicked in. It's hanging off its hinges and Corey looks at Colby, eyes widening when he sees the blood and the pill bottle still clutched in Colby's hand.
"Colby-" Corey surges forward and grabs Colby by the shoulders, on his knees in front of the boy. Colby's eyes are wide and he's frozen in fear, unsure how to react. "Colby, bro, d-did you take any? How many did you take bro?"
Colby hangs his head. "Doesn't matter," He breathes out. "I'll be dead sooner or later."
Corey's eyes widen and without a second to spare, he grabs Colby around the waist, yanking him up. Colby jumps in response but is unable to fight back as Corey positions himself behind Colby and he clasps his hands into fists around Colby's torso, positioned at his belly button. Without missing a beat, Corey starts pumping, pressing in as hard as he can to Colby's stomach, doing the Heimlich maneuver. Colby's eyes widen and he weakly struggles against Corey, trying to get him off him as he feels the pills and stomach acid coming up his throat. He tries to stop his roommate but finds himself unable to as they all come back up.
Corey lets go just as Colby collapses onto his knees and throws up everything from his stomach onto the blood splattered tiled floors, including the dozen pills he swallowed. He retches for a few seconds after before leaning backwards, taking deep breaths as he coughs and chokes in air. Realizing Colby's still holding the pill bottle, Corey snatches it away from his friend and throws it out of the bathroom and into Colby's bedroom.
Colby watches as Corey throws the bottle to see Sam standing in the doorway, tears running down his cheeks and body trembling as he stares at Colby on the floor, hands covering his mouth. Colby feels guilt pool in his stomach and he turns away, unable to meet Sam's gaze.
"Sam-" Sam doesn't hesitate taking Corey's place as he gets up and pulls out his phone to call 911. Sam grabs Colby around the chest and hugs him, squeezing as tight as he can as he sobs into Colby's shoulder. That's enough to make Colby break down himself, and he too begins sobbing, Sam's hold unwavering around his chest.
"I'm sorry," Sam breathes out, voice trembling and weak. That just makes Colby sob harder. "I'm so sorry..."
And thus, the two best friends known as Sam and Colby both break down into tears in a bathroom, blood covering one of them after a failed suicide attempt.