PTX Song Fics

mitchie struggles

Mitch had been feeling low recently. He just didn't feel right within himself and people around him was getting him down. He knew there was a storm coming, though, from the number of panic attacks he'd had in the past week. He never told anyone about them unless they were really bad. He just dealt with them himself. He'd even had a few during rehearsal but none of his bandmates noticed so he didn't say anything. He knew a storm was coming and it would eventually destroy him. He'd been crying himself to sleep every night for the past two weeks, and Scott, his roommate, hadn't noticed as he had only just got back from hanging around his boyfriends.

Mitch didn't dislike Alex, he just didn't like how Alex kept him away from his best friend by basically kidnapping him, not that he said anything to anyone about it. All he needed was Scott but he would never ask that on him if he was busy with his boyfriend. All he wanted was for his best friend to be happy and if he had to withdraw himself by a lot to let him be happy that's what he'll do.

Mitch felt unloved, recently. He didn't know why but his mental health wasn't doing all to well and the voices in his head were telling him all these negative things. He didn't want them to, of course, he didn't, he wanted happiness. But of course, he was destined against that. All his mind told him was that he was better off alone, he was ugly, he was unwanted, he was worthless, he was unloved and that maybe he'd be better off dead.

He listened to the voices, the voices that sounded like his best friends telling him all these things and began to believe it. He withdrew himself from his friends little by little. He'd withdrawn himself from the band and usually sat there in silence until he was asked a question directly or had to sing. His ideas weren't needed to be put out there. A conversation had become such a foreign concept to him that he became very much in his head about how each word he spoke should come out, how the tone matching the words had to be perfect. But how could they, if he wasn't perfect? He wasn't skinny like Kirstie, or tall like Avi, he couldn't make the pretty sounds out of his mouth like Kevin, and he certainly wasn't perfect like Scott.

And so, the voices changed phrases often enough that he was in an almost schizophrenic state. You're too fat, stop eating. You're too stupid, stop speaking. You sound terrible, stop singing. No one would notice if you died, just leave them already. No one likes you, they are just pretending for the sake of the band. You should quit, they'd be happy. That's what you want for them, right? Their happiness. Mitch truly believed everything his mind was saying but the words were overwhelming. They overpowered his entire being and controlled his every action.

Mitch stopped eating, he needed to be thin. He started going to the gym religiously, living off of the water for fuel. He stopped singing because he knew how terrible he sounded. He gained a new best friend, his razor blade and the two were extremely close. Mitch never left without it. Mitch gave up coffee and didn't go with Scott to rehearsals when the blonde was home, he walked instead of hitching a ride from his best friend not caring that it was a two-hour walk when it only took twenty minutes in the car.

He needed to quit the band, now, before they began writing for their new album. They could find another tenor to take his place, that wasn't a problem. But could he drop all ties with his friends like that? Could he drop his whole life within a second for no reason at all? Could he hurt his friends like that? They don't care, moron. No, he told himself, he had to do this for the benefit of the group.

His mind was racing as he sat on the cold floor of his bathroom crying as he had been for over an hour. He had to find Scott before the whirlwind of the storm happened. He needed his best friend, his safety net, his home. He stood up and cleaned the dry blood off of the floor before leaving. He went into his bedroom and through on one of Scott's hoodies over his boxers and grabbed his blanket, throwing it around his freezing frame, mainly to prevent Scott from guessing he wasn't eating.