Twenty Øne Piløts||Imagines

Fear Leads to Anxiety//Both

Word Count:1874
[!!Trigger warning!!] This imagine deals heavily with depression, anxiety, and panic attacks.

Stay Alive ||-//

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The depression, anxieties, fears—everything-- had been building up, surrounding me on every side like towering walls, with no way of escape. Bottling it in had only made matters worse, creating this constant sinking feeling in my gut, making me feel separated from the rest of the world, unable to connect with anyone, as I stared down into this cavernous severance that divided me from my loved ones.

If any of my family had noticed, they had yet to say so. Most of my friends were the same, though I had caught a select few that knew me particularly well giving me concerned gazes, as though afraid one wrong look would turn me into a shattered mess. Those who had asked about it received a swift, "I'm fine," and then dismissed the issue.

After being free from the sickening grip of a panic attack two years, they were becoming more frequent, to the point where they occurred usually once or twice a week. Until now, I'd been able to deal with them alone, cowering in the stall of a public restroom, until I returned to work, a shaking mess trying desperately to cover up as I was scolded for my tardiness that resulted from a cause that the manager wouldn't recognize as a problem. Other times, I curled myself in the sheets of my bed until the short, ragged breaths and irrational panicking subsided by itself.

And so, the nauseating cycle repeated as I fell deeper into the abyss of my own mind.

Today, a day that months ago would have seemed exciting and cheerful, was a source of dread. Childhood friends of mine, Tyler and Josh of twenty one pilots, had a few days off before they played the show in their hometown, the city where I still currently lived, alone in an apartment across town from the rest of my family. My parents had organized for both of them to eat dinner at their house, and I was invited to join, something I had agreed to months ago when my mom noticed the opportunity and planned the whole ordeal before the tour had even begun.

The reason this day worried me was that both of them were able to pick up easily on this spiral of anxiety that I so desperately wanted to keep hidden. It's why, as I drove the streets through the city on the path to my childhood home, I couldn't stop fidgeting with the sleeves of my sweatshirt and the coarse denim of my jeans.

My contact with both of them had trailed off months ago, fearful that I'd reveal too much during a conversation and unwilling to burden them with my pointless issues while they dealt with the stress of a world tour. Since then, only the occasional text to check-in came through, met with a false reply from my end.

As I pulled up next to the sidewalk, I noticed the extra car already parked in the driveway, leaning my head on the steering wheel as I drew in deep breaths, preparing myself for the façade that I always put on in front of others.

I stepped out of my car, slowly walking to the front door, trying to psych myself up on the way. I unlocked the door, placing my keys in my back pocket, and took one final deep breath as I twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

I immediately met with a hug at the waist from my youngest sister, Annie, who apparently had heard the jingle of my keys and rushed to the front door.

"Y/N!" she squealed, gripping my waist while simultaneously jumping up and down. I smiled at her, returning her. Preston, my brother followed down the stairs soon after her, hugging me from the other side.

"Everyone's in the living room," he said, smiling at me before he and Annie ran back upstairs.

"Y/N, is that you?" I heard my dad call, obviously hearing the ruckus Preston and Annie had caused.