𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜

TW: auditory hallucinations, anxiety, depression

angst

For @BabyBread977

Happy birthday, love

Hopefully you enjoy this one

Will there ever be a time when he doesn't feel this fucked up?

He doesn't know, and no one seems to be listening, despite his daily, hourly prayers to feel better, to manage to go back to his old self.

His eyes burn with exhaustion, and his fingers are beginning to cramp from his desperate typing, but still he doesn't allow himself to stop.

The moment he stops typing his report, the voices will come back.

It's only thanks to his headphones that he is able to at least maintain some semblance of focus, to drown the voices out at least a little bit.

It sounds crazy. He knows that. That is the main reason he hasn't told anyone.

After all, how could he even begin to say it, what could he even say?

"Oh, yeah guys, there are also times when I hear sounds and voices that actually aren't there, and the only way I've been able to explain it is either there's something wrong with my mind or that I'm possessed. Any other questions?"

Like hell he'll do that.

He is the leader, strong and resilient, able to carry all of the burdens of the group without falling apart.

He doesn't have time for this, for the weakness of his own mind.

He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the taunts, the mocking. He is strong. He is dependable. He is more than this.

He has to be.

It is seven in the morning by the time he finishes his work, allowing himself to save the draft, to exhausted to even pay attention to the swirling mess that is his mind. 

The soft sunlight reflects through his window, and he curses softly.

He didn't mean to work the night away again. 

But as long as it means he can go to sleep faster and easier, he will take it.

He barely makes it to his bed, wincing as his joints crack as he stands. He has to stop spending so long hunched over his computer. 

He collapses onto his bed, not bothering to peel off his hoodie or sweatpants, too exhausted and drained to even think about it. 

He gratefully drifts off into sleep, more than happy to ignore the voices, the responsibilities, the weight of leadership, if only for a few hours. 

The moment he wakes up, he turns over, pulling his pillow over his head. 

He can't do this, he can't make it through the day.