doppelgänger

dennis

The two weeks Dennis had been at Warped Tour so far were undeniably awesome, but he couldn't ignore that he missed home. He wondered what his family was doing, what Bex was doing.... and somewhere in the back of his mind, he sort of even wished he was there.

Dennis was constantly busy now, which was good for him, he knew, be he rarely had time to check his phone to even answer a quick call or text. The other band members didn't feel the same, that was obvious, and Hades admitted that he was glad to be away from home. Warped Tour made Dennis remember how much he loved performing and how much he loved his fans, but it also made his realize how much he missed home and his family.

He felt like he was a little bit of a different person once he walked off the stage every night, after finished his 70-minute set or so, which led him to believe his fans were looking up to Show Dennis rather than Regular Dennis.

Whenever he did have the time to send a quick text or check his phone for anything important, one of the people he never heard from was Bex, and no matter how many times he texted her, she would never answer. He knew nothing was wrong; his parents would have let him know. He had figured she might've been mad at him, maybe, but Dennis didn't have a clue as to why she would be.

Now as he laid on his bed in a crappy, run-down hotel several states away from home, he couldn't help but stay awake feeling anxious.His thoughts sounded louder than the noisy AC unit sitting right next to his head. Though he loved touring, playing shows and seeing his fans, he couldn't take it anymore with the haters who threw water bottles onto the stage and screamed profanities at the band members every other night. He was done with the trashy hotels that had rats scratching in the walls and showers, and bed bugs under the mattresses.

He was both physically and mentally sick of almost everything that had to do with tour.

The opportunity to get any rest was rare, and when Dennis did have it, he wasn't able to sleep. He was restless.

Anxious.

Depressed.

Hurting.

Exhausted....

And flat out done.

Sometimes, even with the medications he wished somehow he could shut down his thoughts completely, because his thoughts made him depressed, and being depressed caused him to make scars.

Scars that would last forever, scars that would never let him forget the pain he always felt.

He didn't sleep that night.

Instead, there was red that stained the bathroom sink, still splattered until morning, when the sun came up and told him that he had to face another day.