Manthony ✨

Please Stay

~PLEASE STAY~

⚠️TW: ⚠️Smut - If you do not like smut, don't read! Thank you and enjoy! :)

ATTENTION: This is FANFICTION and none of this is CONFIRMED. No hate to ANY of the Chase Atlantic members or their girlfriends, please! Enjoy <3

Request by GDaisy_Aesthetic with a twist thanks to my brain :,)

~Mitchel~

"Are you ever gonna let me go on stage without making me feel like this?" I ask him, feeling him smile against the sensitive skin of my neck,

"Why would I, baby?" He asks teasingly and I roll my eyes,

"At least let me go on stage without getting hard," I mumble and he pulls away, my fingers fly to my neck and rub over the hickey he definitely just left. I give him a glare and he shrugs playfully. I stretch a bit before I walk out on stage and switch the microphone on and give harmonic hums along with the background music of Stranger Things before I start to sing and lights flash like crazy,

"Yeah, probably shouldn't call, it's the worst time," I start on a lower note to get the crowd hyped, "I've been up for days and my brain's fried, yeah," I put a fake finger gun to my head before drooping my head to the side, "Don't mistake me for a wise guy," I wag my finger like a part would when their child is being rambunctious. The background vocals go off and I continue until it's Christian's verse and he walks out, singing beautifully as always,

"Lying on the floor with a nosebleed," he sings out, his voice arousingly low. He walks over to me and runs a finger down the middle of my chest to the waistband of my tight black jeans. I'm sure my jeans get tighter when he grabs me by the belt and then grabs my chin, giving me a quick kiss before singing,"Girl, just take it easy, maybe don't breathe," and the breathing sound effect plays in the background, making the crowd go wild, "I've been fuckin' wired, yeah, I'm so deep," he sings, grinning at me and winking so only I can see before he adds some guitar and that's when everything lights up and the real show is getting started. He grins at me and I grin back, forgetting all about my previous frustration with him. We sing song after song, our voices worn out by the last song, Cold Nights. We finish the song and tell the crowd to have a good night before we head out. I'm sweating profusely from jumping around the whole night and so's Christian. I'm watching his shirtless figure grab his things and pack them in his bag as we wait for the cab when I can't help but admire those damn muscles. They glisten in the stage lights, the sweat shiny and hot as hell. I watch him a bit longer until I'm pulled out of my daze,

"Earth to Mitty," he says and waves his hand. I blush and get up, grabbing my stuff, "What? Too caught up in all of this?" He teases, gesturing to himself and I push him innocuously before we load ourselves into the cab and try to cool down on the ride back to the hotel. I sigh and it's only when I close my eyes that I realize how fucking exhausted I am. I swallow and feel that my throat aches from all the singing I did tonight. I'm falling asleep when the driver slams on the breaks and tires screech, the seat belt locking against my chest, making a choked sound come bubbling up my throat. I turn to look out my window and that's when the car rams into us. I let a scream loose and I'm thinking it's over until I realize we're sliding sideways across the road before we're flipping. Once. Twice. Three times before we land upside down and I let out a low groan,

"Mitchel?" It's a scream, "Mitchel? Oh, God. Mitty are you okay?" I'm trying to come to my senses, my mind spinning, my thigh burning with hot, searing pain. My ribs ache and I turn my head slightly to see that there's no one next to me,

"Mitchel! Mitchel!" I can't speak for some reason. When I open my mouth, another groan slips out. I can hear sirens wailing outside and some sobbing and what sounds like Christian freaking out, "Mitchel!" His voice cracks and I manage to get his name out but it's a lame mumble,

"Christian," I practically whisper it at this rate. I look down and see I'm hanging upside down, my body still strapped into the seat. Wait a minute. I feel against my thigh and there's something sticking out of it. I let out a whine and Christian's voice comes closer,

"I heard him! I heard him! Please, oh, God, please help him," I hear him say and that's when doors are ripped open and people are touching me and I'm screaming because they're pulling something sharp out of my thigh. I keep screaming and when they drag me out of the wreck of the car I'm laid on the asphalt of New York City, sirens threatening to make me deaf, the voices of paramedics and Christian and my brother making my head throb, the feeling of my thigh being wrapped and my ribs and neck assessed for damage but all I do is stare up at the stars. It's peaceful and relaxing compared to the chaos of my current physical state. I think I'm in shock. I can't see anything but the night sky. What if I die? What if I don't get to say goodbye to Christian? What if? What if? What if...

Black. Beep. Black. Beep. Beep. White. Too bright. Black. Beep. Beep. Beep. What is that? White. Still too bright. Black. Beep. Beep,

"Mitchel?" It's a soft question, so soft and gentle and loving and worried that my lips part and I start to cry because I can hear his voice. I'm not dead. The minute I start crying he starts crying too and crawls next to me,

"Jesus Christ," he sobs and hugs me close and I sob even harder because what if the last time I heard Christian's voice was when he was screaming for paramedics to help me? What if the last time I saw him was that concert? When I thought we'd be home in bed soon? I cry until I cough and groan because my ribs hurt so bad,

"Baby, can you open your eyes?" He asks and I groan again, "Please, baby, I want to see your eyes," he whispers and presses his lips to mine before pulling away, saliva and tears left on my lips. I open my eyes and they meet his tear glazed green ones. He smiles a little and gives a sad laugh before hugging me again,

"I thought I really lost you," he barely says it, like if he does it'll be true, "This was worse than that last crash, God, you were black and blue and your thigh...oh, God, it was bleeding so bad," he says and holds me tighter. I pat his arm,

"You are killing my ribs though," I mention and he pulls away,

"Sorry, sorry!" He says and I smile a bit,

"It's okay, baby, I missed you," I say and he smiles softly,

"I missed you too," he whispers and that's when he gets up and tells me he has to go, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead before I watch him walk away, noticing the boot on his leg,

"Christian?" I call out and he turns, "What happened?" I ask and he sighs,

"Just a bit hurt," he says and shakes his head, "Don't worry about me, Mitchel, you almost died," and it's the last thing he says before walking out the door to go get us food. I think about it for a moment and start to cry again, not caring that I'm making the heart monitor go up. I cry until my body shakes and I'm gasping for air. I barely remember last night. The performance. The lights. Then sirens. I cry until the doctors come in to plug an IV into my arm and give me some water and painkillers. I lay back into the pillows and stare lifelessly at the ceiling, about to fall asleep before Christian walks back in,

"I got you a sandwich," he says and comes over and sits next to me,

"I don't want food," I say and he sighs,

"You've gotta eat, Mitchel," he tells me and I nod,

"I want you to lay with me until I fall asleep," I whisper and grasp his fingers with mine,

"Okay," he whispers and climbs under the covers with me. I cuddle up to him and rest my head over his heart, listening to the steady beat of it. I put a hand against his chest and he puts his hand over mine,

"Please stay," I whisper, feeling scared that if he leaves I may not see him again, the crash kind of traumatizing me,

"Always,"