Sturniolo Triplets angst/Other Things

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝑶𝒌𝒂𝒚~ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

Chris hasn't been feeling like himself lately. Irritable, sad, angry, etc. His brothers help him go back to being normal.

Tw; crying, depression, not eating, not showering, light self harm, mention of weight loss, attempted suicide.
Love u guys, stay safe <3
Not Graphic.
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Depression. A complicated illness, really. It's strange when you're begging yourself to move, to talk, to live. Anything. But you can't, and it eats away at you. Taking the light from your eyes, and the life from your veins. It's strong, like a bulldog with it's favorite bone, aggressively guarding it with it's life. The only difference is, depression likes to take your life. Not gaurd it.

Chris Sturniolo has this illness, shocking, yes? 'How can someone so happy, have an illness that's so debilitating?' Easy, happiness is easily masked. And depression is -sometimes- easily ignored. You can ignore a slight ache in your chest, Chris did.
But when the ache becomes painful, when it became paralyzing, he was unable to ignore it anymore. When he couldn't stop himself from snapping at his brothers, he couldn't ignore it.

When he stopped being able to move from his bed, that slowly became a dark void that he would run to, he couldn't ignore it.

When he couldn't shower anymore, and was forced to wear caps in videos, so that his fans wouldn't point out his stiff, greasy hair? He couldn't ignore it.

When he stopped eating, and slowly began to lose weight? They couldn't ignore him.

When his arms started gaining little, bloody red lines, that ran up to his shoulders and down to the edge of his wrists? They couldn't ignore him.

Months upon months of this never ending cycle.
Wake up, fight, self harm, sleep.
Wake up, fight, self harm, sleep.
Wake up, fight, self harm, sleep.
Every, single, day, without fail. Chris was so sick of it, but he couldn't do anything about it. He was too tired and was growing on suicidal. Not wanting to die, but also, just not wanting to be alive. Not wanting anymore pain, and wishing that he wasn't causing other's pain. But he knew he was. And there was nothing he could do about it.

However, there was something that could be done.
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Whenever Chris got like this, Nick and Matt would always get increasingly more worried. They were never hurt by Chris's snapping, or blatant ignoring. He was in his own mind, trapped and unable to escape. So they'd help, they would give Chris his space and wait for him to come to them. Wait for him, for as long as it would take, because eventually it would take, Chris would come to them. Right?

He always did, so what's different about this time?

Well, apparently everything. Because the weeks that had already turned into months, turned into a year. Chris's depressive episodes were never this long, and they certainly weren't ever this bad. Chris was 103 lbs, his arms looked like he had just gotten hit with thousands of shards of glass, and he had begun to hurt his legs, too. He stopped talking completely, when he'd enter a room, if Nick or Matt said something to him, he would just start crying and run to his room. Locking the door behind him. He only showered when he had to wash off his own dried blood for a car video.

It was getting worse, and his brothers were afraid of what could happen to Chris. They didn't know how to help because Chris wouldn't allow them to help. But, at this point, they were starting to not care about what Chris wanted. If his life was in jeopardy, they had to do something. Anything to get their fun loving, happy, brother back.

The two men had started to look for therapists, they didn't bring it up to Chris. They'd have to find one that he'd agree to, first, which would be the greatest difficulty in the history of mankind. Chris hated therapists, he thought that the idea of talking to a complete stranger about your problems was bogus, and that it didn't work. At least, not for him.

Thankfully, on one fateful night, their research would come to an abrupt hault as a noise reached them from Chris's doorway.
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"We could try this one, it's a few hours away but.. I'll drive that far" Matt shrugs, scrolling down on the website that he had pulled up. Nick looks at the screen, reading the reviews and such on this therapists, 'official website.' "I dun'no, it seems fake or somethin'.. y'know?" Nick mumbles, taking the laptop from Matt.

The time was 4:13 a.m, and the two brothers had been researching since 10:37 p.m. None of the therapists that they'd seen so far were good enough, but at this point, they were beginning to not care. Chris needed help.

"Wait, I think I found one-" Nick announces, Matt perks up at this, his tired blue eyes glance over at Nick, then flick to the bright computer screen. He saw; Doctor Revenant in big, bold letters.  Matt's eyebrows screw together, "huh.. what's the reviews like?" He mumbles. Nick nods a little and begins to scroll down to where Dr Revenant's reviews would be. However, before he could get all the way down to the end of the article, the thin creek of Chris's bedroom door sounds. Sending a jolt of fear through Matt, who snaps his head up. Nick looks over at the same time as Matt, and what they see will never not shatter their heart.

Their youngest triplet stood in his doorway, his sticky brown hair lay flat against his head. His whole body trembled tiredly, as if his legs could give out at any minute. His thin, fragile body leaned on the white door frame, eyebrows furrowed together in anguish. Tears sit idle in his light blue eyes as he looks at his two brothers, holding a blood and tear stained shirt to his left wrist. "I'm so.. sorry.." Chris sobs, voice hoarse. Fast tears leave his eyes as he allows himself to squeeze them shut. The man inhales shakily, then lets the breath out as a line of sobs that wracked his broken frame. "I'm so sorry!" He says louder, feeling familiar hands grab him gently, pulling him into an embrace. Another pair of hands begin to examine his vulgar wrist, only making Chris cry harder. "Chris, hey, bubba-- Chris breathe, breathe" Matt coos into his brothers ear, allowing Chris to lean on him fully. "I'm sorry, so sorry.. don't wanna die, I just-- just," Chris growls in frustration, angrily sobbing into Matt's shoulder and tightening his grip on his brother. Not moving his injured hand, which Nick was working on. "Chris stop, Chr-- it's okay, man.. hey," Matt makes Chris look at him, though, Chris avoids eye contact. "Look at me, Chris.. come on" Matt says, sniffling quietly. Chris does as he's told, "We forgive you, dude.. we love you." Matt whispers, a few stray tears leave his matching blue eyes.

Chris's bottom lip wobbles and he shakes his head. "I tried to.. I wanted to.. but I-- I don't, don't want to, Matt, I don't want to!" He cries, re-burying his face into Matt's shoulder. Matt nods, "I know buddy, I know" he reassures.
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Luckily, Chris didn't need stitches or anything. Just a bandage and Neosporin cream. The three men had a talk that night, and Chris told them everything that had went on, he told them how sorry he was. Cried again. But his brothers were able to reassure him, as well as scold him to tell him to; 'Never do that again, please'

Chris agreed to a therapist, and sadly, was put into in-patient care for about two weeks. After that visit, all he needed was his brothers and Dr Revenant. They helped him, and they'd continue to help him.

Because they'd always love Chris, Chris was their brother. They would never get tired of him.

Right?
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Sadly, this isn't the end of this story- and pt 2 is sad.