Chapter Text
Matt, Chris and Nick returned to LA. Like the flight out to New York, the flight back was equally as quiet between the brothers. But unlike the way there, Nick was back.
Matt could feel his brother’s anger from across the aisle. He was no longer dissociative with glazed eyes and lethargic movements. He was Nick, but so much angrier.
* * *
Nick thundered down the stairs, hair mussed and clothes creased. He looked haggard, his sleep shirt that used to fit him comfortably now hanging from his shoulders.
“Where is my prescription?” He asked in lieu of a greeting. He headed straight for their medicine cabinet, opening the cupboard doors before he began to pick up bottles at random, shaking them vigorously.
Matt had been sat on the couch reading, in a meditative zone and taking full advantage of the peaceful afternoon. Well, until it had been broken by his brother. Matt closed his book and set it aside, “I have it.” He said, watching Nick continue to rattle through the cupboard.
He whirled round, eyes wild. “Okay…” he said slowly. “Can I have it?”
Matt inhaled deeply, “Why, do you need something? Surely you don’t need a sleeping pill right now?”
Nick’s eyes blazed and he took a few steps towards his brother, “What am I a fucking child? Are you my mom? I don’t have to tell you why I need my prescription that I was prescribed.”
Matt got to his feet slowly, hands out, “Nick, you’ve been popping Xanax like candy. I just think it would be better-“
Nick let out a cruel laugh, “You can’t be serious?” He chucked the pill bottle he was holding and it burst like confetti as it hit the floor.
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t want you to become dependable on them, that’s just avoiding the prob-“
“Matt, I’m not ignoring the fucking problem! I am fully aware of the problem, I can’t escape it. It’s a living nightmare!” Nick threw his hands out wide, becoming more erratic by the moment.
“Can you just calm down for a sec, so we can talk about this rationally.”
“Fuck you, Matt!” Nick stormed towards him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Give it back now. I’m not a fucking child!”
Chris rounded the corner, having heard Nick’s yelling from downstairs. “What the hell is going on?” He eyed the painkillers scattered across their kitchen floor and could instantly feel the tension rolling off Nick.
Nick spun around again to face Chris, “Matt’s on some fucking power trip.”
Matt looked at Chris over Nick’s shoulder, eyes pleading. Chris’ eyes snapped to his for a moment, before coming back to Nick.
“Okay, what makes you think that?” He finally asked, cautious at escalating the situation any further. He hadn’t seen Nick this angry in a long time, and certainly not directed at one of them.
“He won’t give me my medication!” Nick yelled, a vein jumping in his throat.
“What do you need?” Chris asked, eyes trained on his older brother, watching as he deflated slightly and brought down his arms to rest by his side. He swiped a hand across his eyes looking worn out.
“My Xanax.” Nick finally answered, voice small and eyes falling to the floor.
Chris looked to Matt, “Matt, go and get his prescription.”
Matt’s lips parted slightly, hurt flashing across his face. He stood still for a moment, then strode forward, nearly shoulder checking Nick in the process. Whilst passing Chris, he glowered, before stomping into his bedroom. He was back a few seconds later and slammed the bottle of Xanax into Chris’ chest.
“There,” he said curtly and then spun on his heel and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him.
Chris sighed heavily.
* * *
It was 2am and Nick’s sleeping pill had finally kicked in. Carefully, Chris lifted the comforter and shuffled out of his bed. He crept down the stairs to Matt’s bedroom, pausing for a moment with his hand raised before bringing it down to rap three times.
He could hear shuffling from inside and then Matt swung the door open. He eyed Chris, the tension thick between them, then climbed back into bed, leaving his door open and brother stood there awkwardly.
“What do you want?” He mumbled, sniffling slightly.
Chris took a few steps into the room, “I just wanted to check if you were okay.”
Matt glared at him and god, if looks could kill Chris would be ten feet under. It should have terrified him but he was undeterred as he settled at the bottom of his bed.
“I wasn’t trying to undermine you earlier.” He started.
Matt scoffed, “It sure felt like it.”
He sniffed again and it dawned on Chris that he’d been crying. “I promise I wasn’t. You were right, to monitor his medication like that. I just,” Chris sighed, he felt like he was forever sighing these days. “Nick was worked up and it felt more trouble that it was worth to challenge him.”
“Okay,” Matt still wasn’t looking at him.
“I think we should take Nick to see someone,” this finally caught Matt’s attention. “I’ve been doing some research on therapists in LA and I’ve managed to get it down to a few that look quite good.”
Matt moved into a sitting position, “Can I see?”
Chris nodded, “Sure, let me grab my laptop.”
The two lay in Matt’s bed for hours that night, Chris showing Matt the therapists he’d found. They pored over each profile, deliberating over who would be best for their brother before finally sending out a few different emails.
It was nearly 5am by the time Chris crept back up the stairs into Nick’s room. He slid back into his bed, facing his brother. He lay there for a while watching his chest rise and fall; mapped the way his skin looked like it was pulled taut across his cheekbones, the dark hue that was a constant shadow beneath his eyes, the chapped lips he worried between his teeth. He look exhausted, even in slumber. Chris reached out a hand and rested it right there on his brother’s shoulder, reassuring himself that he was still there and within reach, even if it felt like each day he was pulling further and further away from him; succumbing to something ugly and dark where Chris couldn’t follow him. The warmth of Nick drew him closer and finally he let the fatigue pull him under too.
* * *
When morning came, Nick sheepishly apologised to Matt. Any anger or resentment Matt had been harbouring towards him had long gone by the time the sun rose and he assured Nick that they were fine. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of his brothers that the eldest was trying to make amends by staying out of his room all day and attempting to engage in normal conversation. It was like watching a newborn foal try to walk for the first time; the ease in which Nick used to be able to lead a conversation with his charisma and enthusiasm had faltered. But he was trying, desperately.
He couldn’t admit it out loud but the rage Nick had felt towards Matt the night before was the closest he’d gotten to actually wanting to physically hurt one of his brothers. And it terrified him. Logically, he knew they were going through it too and trying their fucking best to help him in the limited ways that they could, and Nick had been reaching for his pill bottles more than he’d care to admit, but he'd only been able to see red in the moment.
Matt was feeling scared too. Seeing his brother rely so heavily on a substance worried him, regardless if it was legal and prescribed. Nick was floating through the day only looking forward to when he could take a sleeping pill and let unconsciousness take over - until he had to get up and do it all over again. Matt was a notorious worrier, a known over thinker. There were so many times it felt like a curse, getting himself so worked up and anxious over a nonexistent worry had made him physically ill before. But in situations like these, his worrisome nature felt more like a blessing. Sure, maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Nick did have it under control and this is exactly what the healing process looked like. Or maybe, just maybe, Matt had a sixth sense that something awful was about to happen. Again.
* * *
“He’s sleeping,” Chris said, walking down the last few steps.
Matt looked up from his phone frowning, “Already?”
It was only 7pm and they’d all agreed to go out for dinner. Well, cruise through a drive thru and pick up fast food but that was the extent of Nick’s social life these days.
Chris just shrugged, “I dunno. He’s out cold though. What do you want to do?”
Matt ignored the annoyance that bubbled up towards Nick. Your brother’s trying his best, he reminded himself. He was quick to feel irritation towards Nick these days but deep down he knew it was a defence mechanism to cover up the sheer fear he felt about his future. He couldn’t see an end to this. Was there even an end to grief? He was terrified that the rest of Nick’s life would be reduced to bedrot. It panicked him, to imagine his brother who was once so vivacious and lively, with wild hopes and dreams that he never doubted he would achieve, to fall into this endless pit of despair. And what was worse was that Matt had no fucking clue as to how to help him.
“Let’s just go and bring the food back here,” Matt finally decided, coming back to and realising that he was once again biting his nails.
Chris nodded and they headed out, trying to think what food might bring their brother a little spark of joy.
They were back within half an hour, quietly chatting as they ambled upstairs from the garage. In the car, they’d started planning a getaway with their parents and Justin.
“We should head North,” Chris was saying. “Or Hawaii. Or fuck it, let’s go to Canada!”
“You’ve just said three very different things,” Matt rolled his eyes, setting down their feast from Cane's on the dining table.
“I’m just thinking out loud -“
“Clearly,” Matt mumbled under his breath.
“Hawaii we’ve done, multiple times, and as much as Nick is in love with the place, maybe it’d be better to go somewhere completely new where we’ve never been before?”
“As in, somewhere that has no memories?”
Chris took a long sip of his drink, “Exactly!”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Text mom and see if she can think of anything, I’m going to wake up Nick.”
“Don’t poke the bear!” Chris singsonged as he grabbed his phone.
Matt chuckled, “Too late, he has to eat!” He yelled back ascending the stairs to Nick’s room.
“Nick,” he called out softly, gently opening his bedroom door. It was completely silent. “Nicky” he tried again, walking over to the bed. He felt uneasy, the room was colder than usual and in complete darkness. Anticipating his brother’s protests, he flipped his bedside light on. “Yo Nick, wake up we have food.”
Matt felt his stomach drop as the light cast a shadow across his brother’s face. He took a step back instinctively, breathing out a quiet “No.”
“Nick, wake up!” He said, voice stern. The silence suddenly felt unbearably heavy, his brother’s pallor a little too sickly, the cold chilling his bones. He surged forward, his shaky hands grabbing Nick’s shoulders and shaking him roughly. Nick’s head rolled to the side listlessly.
“Nick, fucking wake up I swear to god,” Matt urged. Then he noticed the blue tinge to his brother’s lips and he could barely contain himself as he screamed Chris’ name.
Chris ran up the stairs, the panic in his brother’s voice kicking him into action. “What, what, what?” He shouted as he burst into the room.
“Fucking phone an ambulance,” Matt said, his whole body shaking, and voice trembling.
“What the fuck, why?” Chris asked in alarm, fumbling for his phone and quickly dialling 911 before bringing it to his ear.
“I don’t know but I don’t think he’s breathing,” Matt’s voice broke as he brought his hand to Nick’s mouth.
Chris balked, jumping up onto the bed, “It’s my brother, he’s not breathing.” He said into the phone, eyes trained on Matt as he shook his head and moved his fingers to Nick’s neck to check for a pulse.
Chris quickly rattled off their address and attempted to answer the barrage of questions being hurtled his way, “I don’t know, I don’t know, we thought he was sleeping -“
Matt clocked the half empty bottle of sleeping pills by Nick’s bed and held it up for Chris to see.
Chris’ face crumpled, “Oh god, an overdose. He’s overdosed. Sleeping pills, I think.”
They could hear sirens turning onto their street and Chris jumped up to meet the paramedics at the door. Matt’s grip was vicelike on Nick’s arm, half sat on the bed, the commotion happening in a blur around the two of them. He let himself be removed, feeling arms on his shoulders, small coaxes murmured in gentle tones. He heard medical jargon exchanged over his head, saw paramedics at work, watched as they rolled Nick over and slid him onto a stretcher board, felt a hand tugging his and leading him down the stairs, a disembodied voice reminding him to breathe. He was in a car but he wasn’t driving. He heard the wail of sirens, could see blue lights flashing as they followed behind, heard soft sobs and felt a hand squeeze his that never once left his grip. He could see it all, in a daze, but it felt like it was happening to someone else, surely not him. Not them. Not us.