DYING IN LA | WHY DON'T WE SICKFICS

DEPRESSION - jonah

REQUESTED BY:
@-L0KISTUDIOS

potential trigger warning: depression, suicidal thoughts & actions

I'm listening to empty by Olivia O'Brien while starting this. Highkey recommend

—

"Thank you guys so much! Have a good night!"

The guys all put one final big smile on their face for the crowd, waving while they exited the stage to the side. The crowd hooted and hollered for them the whole way, their voices carrying as the boys heard them clear as day once they'd left the stage.

"Dude! That was one of the best shows we've had in awhile." Daniel's excited voice reached Jonah's ears as he listened in, walking behind all the rest of the boys in silence.

His body ached from all the work they've been doing recently. Between shows and travel, he just wanted a day to not be bothered with anything. His head pounded and his heart raced just thinking about the live interview they had scheduled bright and early the next morning. Jonah felt like he couldn't have one second to himself.

The pressure of keeping his head high and handling everything no problem weighed heavy on his heart and mind. His physical state teetered on the edge of the cliff, but his right mental state had already fallen down the side and landed at rock bottom.

Jonah walked slow as the boys all laughed up ahead. They pushed and shoved in a joking way, talking about the show and their plans for the next few days, looking relaxed and smiling like they'd won the fucking lottery. Weren't they tired? Weren't they as exhausted and worn out as Jonah was?

He shoved his hands into his jean jacket pockets, head hung low with a frown tugging his lips downwards.

Jonah wanted everything to slow down. He needed everything to stop. The more time went on that he felt like this, the worse he got, and the more he felt like he couldn't come back from this. The longer he felt like complete shit, the more careless he became.

Jonah stopped caring that he had to be up early, keeping himself awake at night scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He stopped spending the extra time replying to fans, opening their dm's, following them on Twitter. He didn't return any missed calls, skipped out on celebrations in favor of resting. Jonah didn't mind missing breakfast, or lunch, or dinner—he filled up on coffee in the morning and ate if he bothered to think about it later on.

Jonah didn't care anymore. He had no room to care. The dream of becoming something big had left him blinded to all the negatives, the consequences. If someone had told him the aftertaste of being a star was living so miserably, he wasn't sure he would be so eager for a bite.

Jonah just didn't understand. How could someone so filled with too many emotions and thoughts and stress feel so empty.

Cleaning up and making their way back to their bus that night, Jonah couldn't stop thinking. His least favorite thing in the world.

When Jonah started thinking, he couldn't stop. He couldn't abandon a question until he'd worked out every possible answer, every solution, every situation that could come out of something. It left him lost in his own world more times than he could count.

Jonah was finally dragged away from his thoughts when a hand lightly touched his arm. He jumped in surprise before looking to his side, spotting a concerned Jack at his side.

"You okay there, Jo?" Jonah sent him a confused look, "You were just really quiet." Jack chuckled nervously, scuffing his shoes purposely on the ground as they walked across the parking lot and to where their tour bus was parked and waiting.