Daniel has really bad anxiety and OCD. While on tour, Tyler, his brother and tour manager, helps him cope. Daniel refuses to tell the other boys of his problem, fearing they'll see him as a freak. So what happens when they push his buttons and the t...
I walked down the empty halls of the arena. We had a show tomorrow night and I was nervous. It was the first show of the tour. My phone kept buzzing so I turn it off. I kinda just left the hotel without a word.
I liked the peace and quiet. My footsteps were echoing as I walked around. I find myself sitting in the front of the highest balcony. My hands were in my hoodie pocket as I looked at the stage.
My head was swimming with thoughts. You see, I have anxiety really bad and often get panic attacks. I also have bad ocd which only makes my anxiety worse. Coming into the empty venues the night before the show has become such a routine to me, I'd probably freak out if I wasn't able to. I run my hand through my freshly bleached hair, leaning back in my chair.
"Thought you'd be here." I jump, glancing to my left. Tyler. Being my brother, he knew everything about my conditions, and when to sneak me my medicine before the shows. He comes and sits by me, and I look out at the stage again.
"So you bleached it. It looks nice." I shrug.
"I needed a change." It gets quiet as we both look at the stage.
"So what is it this time? Uneven hangers? Hairsprays not organized?" I stare blankly ahead.
"Back closet." I mumble, glancing down. I hated my ocd more than anything. Everything and I mean everything had to be perfect. Corbyns shoes had to be in height order, Jonah's books had to be in sequence, Zach's necklaces in length and thickness order and lastly Jacks hoodies had to be organized by color and texture. It was a nightmare.
"They keep doing it on purpose. They know it bugs me. I fixed it before I came here." Tyler glances at me, but my gaze returns to the stage.
"That's just it, all they know is it bugs you. They don't know why. You have to tell them" He says softly.
"They won't look at me the same. They'll see a neat freak that passes out at a misplaced shoe." I say, glancing at him. He sighs, standing up.
"C'mon we should go. It's getting late." I glance at the watch on my wrist, waiting for it to land on 10pm exactly. Once it does I stand up, following him out.
"Why ten?" He asks, glancing at me as we walk.
"Eights too early and nine is odd." I shrug. Tyler nods slowly as we continue to walk. We get outside and Tyler clicks the button on his keys.
"You drove?"
"You walked?" He fires back.
"Fair enough." I get in passenger seat, leaning my head against the cold window. I close my eyes for a second, not expecting to doze off. I feel the car stop, Tyler's gaze making me uncomfortable.
"The last thing I need is you waking up and having an anxiety attack when the boys bombard you so I'm not even gonna wake you." Tyler mumbles. I hear his door shut, and feel mine open, Tyler's arms going behind my back and under my legs.
I lean into his chest, not wanting to wake up. I was exhausted. I'm barely able to register where we are the whole way to the room, but I don't care. When I'm asleep, I'm happiest. You can't perfect sleep and so it keeps me calm.
"Oh my god is he alright?" Corbyns voice reaches my ears.
"Yea yea he's fine. Just sleeping." Corbyn sighs in relief, and I assume he helps Tyler with the door because my brother whispers a thank you.
"Tyler talk to me. Where has he been going? He disappears the night before every show. He's not getting drunk is he?"
"What? No no. It's nothing like that. When the time is right for him you'll know. I'm trying to get him to tell you." I shift in my sleep, scrunching up my face.
"When the time is right? What's that supposed to mean? Wait please don't tell me he's dying!" I could feel my body being laid on a bed, my shoes being pulled off.
"Corbyn he's not dying. He'll tell you when he stops being an arrogant child." I turn onto my stomach, sighing into my pillow. I feel hands on my pants, tugging them down. They pull my boxers down a bit, revealing part of my bum.
"Shoot can you pull his underwear up? Why does he have to wear tight jeans Jesus." I feel Corbyns fingers on my bum, sending tingles through my body, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I shift, scrunching up my face.
"Why am I just now realizing how clean your room is damn. Did you pay your maids extra?" Corbyn jokes.
"Not quite." I feel their gaze on me, my face smushed into the pillow, my arm curled under my chin as I lift one of my legs to get more comfortable.
"He did this?"
"Please don't mention that. He'll freak out."
"Does this happen to do with what he won't tell us?"
"Kind of." Then everything fades out.
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Hello! And welcome to Tour (: I'm excited for this one y'all just you wait 🤩
