Sturniolo Triplets - Hurt/Sickfics

Chris - Scared of Being Alone

i genuinely dont know how to write this one but ima try my very best LMAO. anyway, this one isn't a request (shocking ik) it js came from my own brain so we'll see how this one works out. i hope you guys enjoy it!

TW: Major character death (I am so sorry)

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Autophobia - the fear of being alone.

One is said to be the loneliest number, Chris knew this was a fact. He didn't need a fancy study to prove it to him, he didn't need a scientist or a doctor telling him the percentages. He just knew that one was the loneliest number and there was no arguing with that.

Chris hated being alone. His brothers knew this, his family knew this, hell even his friends knew this. So maybe that's why he was so good at pretending, so good at using his imagination. 

How he would sit in the car, pretending to laugh at something his brothers had said. Driving around, pretending his brothers were in the car with him. Visiting all of their favorite spots, imagining his brothers were right there with him. 

Because they were. Right?

Right. His brothers were with him, everything was okay. It was just a nightmare. Right?

..Right.

So why was he alone when he woke up screaming from a nightmare? Because it was the middle of the day, he had just taken a nap and his brothers were out at the store. Just like they had told him they would be.

If that was the case, why couldn't he calm down? It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real, and it would never be real. His brothers would come home and they would unload the groceries together, just like they always did.

Because they were the Sturniolo Triplets. Everything always worked out for them. Everything was always okay for them. Right?

...right?

Gosh, Chris hoped so.

It was just his imagination. His imagination was so strong and crazy that he imagined something bad had happened to his older brothers. Nothing really happened.

That's why the funeral wasn't real. The visitation never happened. It was just his nightmare, his imagination. Forcing him to believe something that didn't really happen.

His family never flew to Boston to be with him, his parents, and Justin. It was all in his imagination. The tears weren't real. The fancy black suit wasn't real. His brothers cold, pale, lifeless bodies weren't actually lying in those two caskets. 

It wasn't real. Right?

...

He didn't remember standing in front of all those eyes. He didn't remember the eulogy he gave. His two brothers, too young to be still. He thought they would jump out of those gross caskets and say 'just kidding, guys! we're okay!'

But they didn't.

Chris remember screaming at the funeral director because Matt didn't look like Matt. He didn't look real. They put too much makeup on him. He remembers screaming because Nick's favorite color was purple, not red. Why did he have red flowers? 

It wasn't fair. 

But it didn't have to be fair because it wasn't real. It was just his imagination. 

So why did it feel so real, then? Why did it hurt so bad if it wasn't real? Why couldn't he wake up from this nightmare that his brothers weren't with him?