Sturniolo Triplets angst/Other Things

𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔, 𝑻𝒐𝒐 𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆~ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

Chris has been off here recently, he finally figures out a way to be okay.

Tw: MCD, overdose, suicide.
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A soft sigh can be heard from the Sturniolo Triplets couch, where Chris was sat, sprawled out and not wanting to move from that spot. He had a slowly forming ball of sorrow that was forming in his chest, it was causing Chris's eyes to act up. Which only meant that he would cry, randomly, after arguments or after reading a hate comment. Sometimes for no reason as well. There were times when Chris got rid of this sorrowful feeling, and that was to cry himself to sleep. He would wake up feeling okay, then slowly throughout the day the ball would get larger, and feel stronger. He would have outbursts of anger, which would lead to an argument, which led to another upset sleep.
Today, when the man woke up, the ball was still there. In fact it was huge, bigger than ever. It led to him yelling at his two brothers, and they had left to go to the store after that. What did they ask Chris that would drive him to such intense measures? They asked if he wanted to go with them. Sure, this question is ordinary to most people without a flaming orb of depression lingering in their chest, but for Chris? For Chris, the question made his skin burn with rage. For no apparent reason, apart from- he didn't want to be asked any questions at the time-

So they left without him, and Chris was happy with that. He barely even realized they were gone. Until of course, he did come to realize it. He noticed that they were gone, and how he spoke to them before they left. He realized he was alone. If you knew Chris, you knew that it wasn't his goal in life to be alone, ever. He hated it. Though, maybe he should've thought about that? Before he drove them away, perhaps?

Chris soon feels the bubble in his chest begin to swell, making his chest squeeze and his upper lip tremble. His eyes started to fill with tears, and he allowed himself to cry. Soft, breathless sobs. He felt his heart break more with every whimper.
With all the strength he had at that moment, he lifts himself up into a sitting position, resting his head in his hands. His sobs started to grow, but Chris couldn't feel the sphere of sorrow fading any time soon. Why wouldn't it fade? Why didn't he feel better yet? The broken man slowly runs his hands through his hair, feeling his anguish grow.
"Fuck.." Chris breathed, forcing himself to stand and trudge off to his room, where he would then lock his bedroom door closed and walk cautiously over to his dresser, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. He began to write.

_______________
To- Matt and Nick

Hey guys. I'm really sorry for this, honestly I don't know what else to do. There's nothing to do anymore, other than disappear. I've been having this really painful cluster of, I don't know.. just pure sadness, and I was ignoring it for a time. But I can't ignore it anymore, it's growing and it won't leave me alone unless I'm gone. This is for you guys okay? My big brothers, who I love. I love you's so much, this isn't your fault.

Nick, don't cry too much. I know you'll be okay. Please take care of Matty, kid. He's gonna need you bub, just like I once did.

Matty, don't beat yourself up about this. It isn't your fault, in fact it's none of our faults. It's just how things are meant to be. Nick is meant to guide us, or in this case just you, and you're meant to be the light, in a world full of darkness.

Turns out, I'm meant to be gone.

I'll always love you
Even in death- Chris
__________________
With tear stained cheeks and hysterical breathing, Chris set aside his slightly tear ridden paper and stood up from his knees. During the time that he was writing, he was also taking and swallowing pills, dry, and without a pause in his movements. He felt himself getting woozy, so he laid himself down.

He began replaying the moments in his mind that were most enjoyable, most memorable. The ones he cherished, and the ones he loved. He saw Nick and Matt. He saw his parents, he saw Justin and Trevor. He saw his idols, the ones who lifted him up when he was falling down. He saw his close friends, and his not-so close friends. He saw the fans he had met. He saw all the support he got, people were proud of him. He was proud of him.
But earth wasn't a place for him anymore, no. No earth wasn't where he belonged.
All of this faded, when he felt the strings of his lifeline being gently sewn away. His sense of touch went first, as he now lay there. The orb was gone, replaced with nothing.
His senses of taste and smell were the next to go, the taste of dry blood leaving his mouth. He could no longer smell the candle that he had lit, the one that Matt got him for their birthday.
His sense of sight went shortly afterwards. He could no longer see his door being busted open, or the shocked, horrified faces of his brothers as they rushed in. Nick grabbed the note, and began to read it. Matt ran over to Chris.
Hearing went afterwards. As he could no longer hear the frantic knocking, he couldn't hear his brothers, Matt or Nick anymore.

"Chris let us in now! Tell us what's wrong sweetheart-- please!" Nick..

"Oh my God-- Chris! Fuck- Matt go check him, now!" Nick..

"Chris-- oh God no- no!" Matt..

"Chris!! No! Chris why-- no, please, please Chris-- get up!! bubba?! Please..!" Matt..

Silence.

Chris was gone. As the paramedics arrived, they told Matt and Nick that if they had gotten there only five minutes earlier, he would be okay. But he wasn't, he never would be either, no he was dead. That's what he wanted, even if it wasn't what other people wanted.