Chapter Text
“No need to thank me, it was nice talking with you,” Jarred smiled, then gestured towards the street behind them, “my car is actually parked right there and I’m going down the Theirstreetname street anyway, I can give you a lift if you want.”
I never told him where I live. Alarm bells went off in Chris’s head, his instincts screaming at him to getawaygetawayrightnow!
A small twitch escaped him before he managed to school his expression, forcing himself to appear calm and unsuspecting. “Thanks for the offer, but my brother already texted they’re on their way to pick me up, they’ll be here any minute now, so…” Chris made it up on the spot, he needed an excuse to reject him and to make him think he’d be outnumbered soon.
“Oh… I can wait with you until they get here then,” Jarred offered, his smile a bit strained.
Chris took a step away, towards the park’s exit, already opening the triplet group chat, intending to send an SOS. “Thanks again, but there’s really no need. I’ll be fine on my own for a few minutes.”
He kept glancing between his phone and Jarred, knowing he needed to keep an eye on his movements. He started typing the message, but before he could send it, the phone started ringing in his hand, Nick’s caller ID overtaking the screen.
Momentarily startled, Chris’s attention was drawn to his phone, which ended up being a fatal mistake. Jarred, having recognised his chance was slipping away from him, decided to act now, taking advantage of Chris’s brief distraction.
Chris hadn’t managed to answer the call before Jarred was on him, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him forward, punching him hard across his face. The phone clattered to the ground, its persistent ringing fading into the background of his rapidly escalating panic.
As Jarred landed his first blow, Chris was momentarily paralysed by his shock. The man was bigger, stronger, and now, with the element of surprise on his side, dangerously overpowering. Chris knew just how bad his odds were.
Another punch made Chris regain his senses, jolting him back to reality and reminding him he needed to fight back. He regained his balance and pushed back against Jarred, blocking another incoming punch, redirecting it with one hand and using the other to punch him back.
The fight got only more intense after that, Chris threw punches, trying to defend himself, but Jarred’s larger form and physical strength was overwhelming. Each blow from Jarred was like a hammer strike of not only pain, but also additional fear jolting through Chris’s body, intensifying his panic and hindering his judgement.
It didn’t take long for Jarred to overpower him, diminishing Chris’s chances by throwing him to the ground. “Ooof,” Chris gasped as he landed, all air was knocked from his lungs.
Jarred didn’t waste a second, kneeling on Chris’s chest with one leg, making him cry out in pain as he pinned him down, a deranged gleam of triumph in his eyes. "You're coming with me," Jarred breathed in his ear, his voice low and sickeningly sweet.
He hooked an arm around Chris’s torso, under his arms, which he held down with his other, and started slowly dragging him towards his car. "We're meant to be together, Chris. I know you feel it too. You've been talking to me in your videos, you want this as much as I do."
Chris's heart raced with terror. No, no, no, he’s completely nuts, some kind of mental freak, there’ll be no reasoning with him. The reality of his situation – the isolation of the park, his failure of informing his brothers of his situation, the physical domination of his attacker – crashed over him in a wave of dread. I can’t let him take me, I can’t, his struggles were desperate and frantic, driven by a deep, instinctual fear of being taken, of the unimaginable horrors that would follow if he failed here.
Jarred's grip tightened as he attempted to drag Chris towards his car. "Stop fighting, darling," he murmured, almost tenderly, “I’ll save you from your possessive brothers. I’ll take care of you.” The delusion in his voice combined with what he was saying was so terrifying that Chris started crying.
This can’t be happening, I have to stop this now, I’m not in his car yet, I have to do something now! In a moment of pure adrenaline fuelled survival instinct, Chris twisted his body, using the momentum and Jarred’s surprise at the sudden movement to push him forward, sending them both to the ground again.
Chris, driven by renewed hope, scrambled to get up, but Jarred was quicker. He lunged, climbing over Chris and pinning him down once more, his hands wrapping around Chris's throat. "Don't worry baby, I won't kill you. Just helping you take a little nap," Jarred whispered, his face contorted in a deranged expression, his eyes radiating pure madness. "When you wake up, you'll be in our new home."
Chris gasped for air, his lungs starting to burn. Panic surged through him, he couldn’t believe this was happening to him, this didn’t feel real, it couldn’t be. But it was, and he was scared, more scared than he'd ever been. Tears were streaming down the side of his face, black spots started dancing across his vision, he didn’t want this. Someone help me, please, why is no one here, mom! I want my mom, please, mom, where are you?!
As his vision of reality started fading, different, made up visions of his brothers, of their shared laughter and moments of joy, came to the forefront of his mind. He wanted them, needed them.
Nick… Matt… where are you? Why aren’t you here? Please come get me, I was wrong, I was wrong, I’m sorry, this is my fault, I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry, please, come save me! Chris’s thoughts were broken and desperate, a small whine escaping him. “Hngghh.”
“Shhh, just relax, stop trying to fight this. Close your eyes, and the next time you open them, your new life will start! Just you and me, no annoying brothers to get in our way.” Jarred giggled, giddy with twisted excitement.
But turns out, his sickening words sent just enough despairing fear through Chris, giving him enough strength for one final attempt to fight back.
Desperation gave way to a wild, uncoordinated search for anything to defend himself with.
He held on to Jarred’s hands around his throat with one hand, and grabbed and clawed around aimlessly with his other, fingers twitching, until he finally brushed against something hard – a rock.
Without thinking, he grasped it, swinging with all his remaining strength, every last reserve he could muster. The rock connected with Jarred's head, and the man's grip instantly loosened. Jarred slumped to the side, unmoving.
Chris lay there for a moment, panting, gasping for breath, each inhale painful, his whole body shaking.
Deep inside him he knew he should move, he still wasn’t safe, he had to move, to run away. But he just couldn’t, he couldn’t move.
He managed to slowly turn his head to the side, his neck burning as he did so, but he needed to see what Jarred was up to, was he still down or was he already getting back up, Chris had to know- dead- a jolt shot through his heart, as if he was struck by lightning – Jarred’s cold, empty eyes reflected nothing, a pool of blood spreading from his head. Chris couldn’t yet form a coherent thought, but he instinctively knew already, from the instant he saw those lifeless eyes, that the guy was dead, his hit had killed him – Chris had killed him.
Chris couldn’t look away, his already raspy breaths got even more shallow, despite his throat being free, he couldn’t take a full breath, his neck was aching, his lungs burning, his vision swimming worse than before.
Since his vision was so blurry, Chris couldn’t make out his surroundings anymore, he could tell something was moving over him, but he couldn’t make out the different colours and shapes enough to deduce what was happening, everything was blurring together.
Since so much blood rushed to his head, his ears were ringing, he was barely registering his own painfully loud breathing, so while he knew someone was talking – yelling – next to him, Chris couldn’t make out the sounds enough to understand them.
He felt someone pushing Jarred’s limp body fully off of him, then two sets of arms pulling at him, dragging him away, raising his torso, supporting his head and holding his arms. Unfortunately, this only made Chris panic more, since his mind still hadn’t fully recovered and caught up with what has happened, his body was still in survival mode. No, no, no, Chris’s instincts screamed at him, making him struggle against whoever was holding him.
He could make out more yelling, and the panic in the voices made Chris even more afraid. He wouldn’t stop trashing and struggling, not until even more voices and blurry figures joined them, something was placed over his mouth and nose, he took three more shallow breaths, and everything went dark.
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A month after the incidence in the park, the triplets exited the court house for the last time.
Chris's mind was buzzing, his expression stoic, revealing nothing, his eyes were empty. Nick and Matt trailed closely behind him, both of them looking sad and worried. They glanced between each other and Chris, but remained silent, there was really nothing to say.
They got in the car, and Matt drove them home, the entire ride spent in tense silence. Once home, Chris went straight to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Matt and Nick could hear the lock click shut and their expressions fell even more, Matt’s eyes filling with tears. They quietly made their way to the kitchen and sat at the table, Matt leaning back against the chair, clenching and unclenching his fists, and Nick leaning forward, burying his face in his hands.
The legal proceedings may have finished, but their nightmare was far from over, and they all knew it. Nick and Matt wondered how things have gotten that fucked up, they both blamed themselves for not stopping Chris from leaving that day.
That day, after realising the stalker was still very much invested in Chris, the two immediately looked up and drove to his location. They tried calling him several times and already knew something was wrong when they received no response. They arrived at the park just in time to see the man straddling Chris, strangling him, but before they could reach them, Chris had grabbed that rock and hit Jarred in the temple - killing him instantly.
The two tried helping Chris, but he was having some sort of mental breakdown. Nothing they said or did worked, Chris hadn’t reacted to anything. Luckily it didn't take long for the police and ambulance to arrive, since some passer-by had heard fighting and called them a few minutes earlier. Chris was rushed to the hospital, where he was held for a few days before he was allowed to continue his recovery at home.
The legal proceeding that followed was a nightmare on its own, dealing with the police, lawyers, stacks of paperwork… Though they were lucky, all things considered, since Jarred had already had a criminal record, multiple stalking and assault charges, plus the undeniable proof they gathered of him stalking Chris, including the hundreds of photographs and journals the police found when they searched Jarred’s apartment. It was quickly determined that Chris acted in self-defence and would face no repercussions, aside from a few months of mandatory therapy sessions.
Though Chris had physically recovered and they were legally in the ‘all clear’, his mental state was something else entirely, causing Nick and Matt no small amounts of worry and anxiety.
Since waking up at the hospital, Chris had barely spoken a word, only giving short answers when absolutely necessary. He was otherwise deathly quiet, unresponsive, his expression blank and eyes empty. He spent all of his time in his room, doing absolutely nothing. Nick and Matt tried talking with him several times, offering support, promising he did the right thing, trying to reassure him, but to no avail. They only managed to make Chris start locking his door, so they couldn't bother him.
Today was the final court hearing, and now the case was officially closed. Nick and Matt continued sitting by the table in silence for a long while, feeling defeated, despite Chris officially being ‘off the hook’.
Unsurprisingly, it was Nick who broke the silence first, his voice heavy with emotion. "I don’t know what to do Matt… We’re his brothers, we’re supposed to be there for him, but I don’t know how."
Matt sniffled, his eyes downcast. "This isn’t like anything we’ve been through so far, Chris has never shut himself off like that – he never wants space when he’s upset, he works through his problems with us… Now that he’s pulling away… I don’t know how to handle it, I feel terrible.”
Tears began to well up in Nick's eyes. "We should have been there sooner. If we’d gotten there just a minute sooner… And we shouldn't have fought with him in the first place. Letting him walk out that day was the biggest mistake of my life."
“We were the ones who let him leave, and that fucker was the one who attacked him,” Matt’s voice cracked, “but Chris is the one paying for it. He has to live with this for the rest of his life.”
The tears spilled over, their bodies shaking as they cried. "I'm so scared for him," Nick confessed, his voice breaking. "You know how he is, this will eat away at his soul. What if he never gets past this? What if he..."
Matt reached out, taking Nick's hand in a gesture of mutual support. "We can’t give up on him, Nick, please, we can cry, but we also need to be strong for him, we’re the only chance he has at ever moving on.”
Nick squeezed Matt’s hand tighter. “I know… but I don’t have a clue where to start, what if we say something wrong and accidentally make it worse? We are most definitely not equipped to deal with this.”
“Oh trust me, I know,” Matt sighed, “but I guess we can learn? Or try to, at least… There’s plenty of sources online that help people deal with guilt and trauma. And maybe I can go back to therapy and ask my therapist for tips…”
“Yeah, you’re right, good idea, Matt,” Nick wiped away his tears and forced a small smile, “and if worse comes to worst, we can always ask Reddit for advice.”
Matt huffed a laugh, squeezing Nick’s hand one more time before letting go. “Come on, let’s make lunch, we all need to eat something.”
They worked together to prepare a relatively healthy meal, hoping to use it as an excuse to get Chris out of his room. But sadly, their plan didn’t work, they got no answer as they knocked at his door and called for him, so they ended up leaving the plate in front of his door. They looked at each other sadly, shoulders slumped in defeat, before retreating to their own rooms.
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For Chris, every day feels the same now, like an endless blur, or like time itself is frozen, nothing feels real anymore. Like I'm stuck in this loop where time doesn't exist anymore, he thinks bitterly.
How many days have passed since I killed him?
It's weird, unlike anything he’s ever experienced; he wakes up, and for a split second, everything seems normal, and then it all comes crashing down again. I killed someone. I am a murderer. The sentences that keep repeating in his mind like a broken record.
Has the hearing ended five or six days ago?
He is vaguely aware that Nick and Matt keep trying to reach out, leaving food at his door, trying to get them all to talk. But how could Chris tell them what's going on in his head when he isn’t even fully aware and conscious half the time? When he can't even look them in the eyes anymore. His brothers are amazing, they are good people. And I am just a filthy, disgusting murderer. They deserve better than him.
When was the last time I left my room?
Chris doesn’t sleep anymore, not really. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Jarred's —empty, lifeless, staring directly into his soul. It's like they're accusing me, screaming at me, yelling, blaming me, and I can't escape it, I can’t unsee it. The little sleep he does get is plagued by nightmares, vivid and horrible. He always wakes up nauseous and more exhausted than before.
Chris is haunted by the fact that he’s a murderer. A person is dead because I killed him. Someone is dead because of me. A human life was extinguished by my hand. Because I did it – I killed him. The thoughts echoe in his head, over and over.
I killed a man. This is a fact, it will never not be true. It really happened. It’s going to remain true forever.
Chris is spiralling. Sleep-deprivation doesn’t help.
Nothing feels real anymore.
Eating has become this chore, he has zero appetite. Chris isn’t even aware when he does it. But I’m still alive, so that has to mean I eat sometimes, right? Matt and Nick leave food for him, but eating is hard. Getting up is hard. Grabbing the plate is hard. Bringing a fork to his mouth. Chewing. Swallowing. Keeping it down. Is. Hard.
Another reason why Chris hates eating is that it gives him a little bit more energy, a clearer head. Energy he spends on feeling more and more disgusted with himself, on picturing that moment more clearly, on hating himself all the more.
He’s never felt so exhausted in his life. His body's heavy, his mind a mess—either racing a mile a minute or completely blank.
I don't know how to make this stop. How do I live with this? Matt and Nick, they don't deserve to deal with this. They're doing everything they can, Chris knows this, but a part of them blames them for not trying harder. For not reaching him just a little bit sooner. It’s not their fault, though. Chris wants to let them in, but his body isn’t listening to him. He wants to unlock his door, but his body is too heavy, it weighs a thousand pounds, he can’t move it.
Like I'm watching everything from the outside. I’m not inside my own body.
Chris is lost. He doesn’t feel like himself, he doesn’t feel like anything. Who is the guy staring back at me in the mirror? He looks like Chris, but there's this emptiness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. I've always thought I knew what guilt felt like, but this? This was something else. It's consuming him from the inside, and I don't know how to fight it.
I don't know how to be Chris anymore. I don’t know if Chris exists anymore.
How many days have passed now?
The worst part? He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling like this, if he’ll ever get better. After all, he can't escape the fact that he ended someone's life. Nothing he does can ever change that. This feeling, this darkness, is all there's ever going to be for him now. I don't want to feel like this, but I don't know how to stop. How do you move on from something like this?
Matt and Nick, they keep talking to him through the door, they keep promising that we'll get through this together, that they love him and that it wasn’t his fault, but that’s just not true now is it? How do you come back from something like this? How do we go back to being us when I've changed everything?
I need... I need a break from my own head. But there's no off switch for this. There's no break from being a murderer.
How do I get these thoughts to stay quiet??
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Ten days was how long it took for Nick and Matt’s anxiety and frustration to boil over, patience broken. They gave him space to mourn privately for long enough, now it was time to start his journey of moving on and healing.
Chris's room had been his refuge and his prison for ten, excruciatingly long days.
Now, on the eleventh day, Nick and Matt stood together outside his door, ready to do whatever necessary to get to Chris.
“Chris? I know you can hear me, open up!” Nick kept banging at his door repeatedly.
Matt listened for a response of any kind, but didn’t hear anything and continued. “It’s just us Chris, we’re here for you and we’re not leaving till’ you come out!”
True to their word, they kept at it until shuffling was heard, followed by faint footsteps. The two stopped and looked at each other with wide eyes, hearts beating fast, both of them feeling unusually nervous.
Chris finally opened the door, his appearance a painful reminder of the toll the past days had taken on him.
Nick and Matt felt tears gather in their eyes, and without a word, pulled him into a hug, holding him close. “Oh Chris…”, “Chris sweetheart, it’s so good to see you,” they whispered emotionally as they held him in their arms after what felt like forever.
Chris didn’t say anything, nor did he hug them back, but that was fine. They knew even opening that door was hard for him.
“Come on, bub, let’s freshen you up a bit, you’ll feel better, I promise.” As they gently but firmly led him to the bathroom, Chris's movements were mechanical, a mere response to their guidance. The shower's warmth and the routine of brushing his teeth felt alien yet strangely comforting. Chris allowed Matt to brush his hair, while Nick went to retrieve some fresh clothes, and as Chris dressed, he felt a weight lift, however slightly.
“There, all clean,” Matt smiled supportively, rubbing Chris’s arm.
“Feel any better?” Nick asked hopefully.
Chris looked up, but quickly averted his gaze. “A bit,” he shrugged, speaking so quietly they’d have missed it, had they not paid attention.
The two smiled at him encouragingly, then Nick rested a hand on his shoulder and Matt linked his hand in his, as they led him gently downstairs, to the couch.
“We thought it’d be best if we start doing basic, easy activities again, to help you regain some sense of normality again,” Nick explained a bit hesitantly, nervous that it might be too much for Chris and he’ll refuse, escaping to his room again.
“Nothing big, maybe we can watch a movie together? We haven’t done that in a while,” Matt added immediately, smiling nervously.
Chris only nodded, not really caring.
Matt and Nick failed to hide their relief, shoulders sagging and letting out breaths they didn’t know they were holding.
They got settled comfortably on the couch, with Chris in the middle, and put on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie.
Chris found himself relaxing, the tension in his body easing as he leaned into the comfort of the couch and the warmth radiating from the two bodies surrounding him. Matt's presence beside him was all too familiar and reassuring, and without realising it, Chris's head found its way to his brother's shoulder. Without thinking, he raised his legs and placed them over Nick’s. He reached for Matt’s hand with his own, the other eagerly accepting it. Nick placed his own hand on Chris’s knee, tracing soothing circles with his thumb.
Wrapped in a familiar, safe and loving embrace of the only two people Chris could never push away, his eyes started getting heavy, he fought to keep them open, but then- “Shhh, it’s okay, you can let go, I got you,” Matt whispered softly, placing a small kiss on his forehead.
The warmth and the rhythmic sounds of life lulled Chris into a sleep that had eluded him for so long.
Nick raised his head, meeting Matt's eyes over Chris’s head on his shoulder. In that silent exchange, a soft, loving smile crept onto their faces. It was a small victory, but a significant one. Maybe, just maybe, they could help Chris find his way back. This was just the first step, but it was a step forward, a sign that healing, however slow and painful, was possible.
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Matt knocked, then opened the door a moment later, peaking inside Chris’s room. "Hey, think you can help me with dinner? I’m making curry rice tonight," he said, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
Chris looked up from his phone and nodded, leaving his phone on his bedside table and moving to follow Matt to the kitchen.
He moved to stand beside Matt at the counter, his movements slow. He looked up at Matt in a silent question, then quickly averted his eyes, waiting to be told what to do.
Matt started instructing Chris, his tone light and encouraging. "Can you chop these for me?" he asked, handing Chris a knife and pointing to the pile of vegetables, then went to prepare the meat.
They worked in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the result of their actions.
Chris brought over the chopped vegetables, which Matt briefly inspected, before gesturing to the pan on the stove. “Great, thanks. Now just toss them right in and stir for a bit.”
Suddenly, Matt broke the silence and began to share a story, glancing between Chris and the meat he was working on. "You know, my headphones stopped working the other day, I called the repair shop, but the nearest one for this brand is like, two hours away," he started, glancing at Chris to see if he was paying attention. Chris just nodded, showing he was listening, but still focusing on the task at hand.
"So I talked to the guy and he said I could just send them over mail. I needed to write both their and our address on the package, so they could just send it back once they were done,” Matt continued his story, coming to add the chopped and seasoned meat to the pan.
“I’ll stir, you go was the rice please,” he told Chris, who went to do as he was told.
“Well, I may have messed up the addresses on the package,” Matt continued, unable to stifle his smile, “I mixed up their address with the return address," he was chuckling to himself. "Ended up mailing the package back to us instead of the repair shop."
Chris looked up, a hint of amusement in his eyes, a smile growing on his lips.
"Yeah, imagine my surprise when the mailman brought it back the next day. I was so confused at first, but then it clicked," Matt said, laughing a bit louder this time, “Nick was laughing so hard when I told him, I was worried he was gonna choke.”
Chris snorted, grinning from ear to ear.
"Like, c’mon, I legit mailed my own package to myself," Matt said, shaking his head and giggling.
Chris let out a soft laugh, shaking his head, the sound feeling foreign yet painfully familiar to his ears. He looked at Matt, his smile growing even wider.
They shared a glance, and the laughter grew, filling the kitchen with a warmth that had been missing for weeks. Chris's shoulders felt lighter, his heart swelling with immense love for his brother.
Matt was beyond happy he managed to make Chris laugh again. It’s been rough, even since the day Chris fell asleep on him on the couch, but moments like these made it all worth it, it filled them with love, happiness and renewed their hope for the future.
For a moment, amidst the laughter and the aroma of cooking curry, the weight of his crime seemed to lift from Chris's shoulders. He was here, in the kitchen, with his brother, and that was enough. The love he felt for Matt was radiated through his eyes, a silent thank you for the moment of respite from his otherwise constantly tormented thoughts.
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Chris woke up abruptly, gasping for air, his heart racing from a nightmare that felt all too real. He sat up in bed, disoriented and shaking, the echoes of the dream still ringing in his ears.
Nick, who was still awake and heard Chris’s shout, burst through the door not a moment later, concern etched on his face. "Chris! Shit, are you okay, kid?" he asked as he rushed to his brother's side.
Chris, still trying to catch his breath, couldn't force himself to respond. Nick didn't wait for an answer; he sat down on the bed and wrapped his arms gently around Chris, rubbing his back and whispering reassurances. "It's okay, it’s over. You're safe here with me. I’ve got you, no matter what."
Gradually, Chris's breathing began to slow, his body relaxing in Nick's hold. As Nick started to pull away, Chris latched on with a shaky hand, letting out a barely audible "Stay."
Nick's expression softened further, his smile gentle and understanding. "Of course, bub, I'm here," he said, climbing under the covers beside Chris. He settled in and allowed Chris to put his arm over him, to which Nick responded by wrapping his own arms around Chris, pulling him closer. Chris then rested his head on his brother's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Nick could feel the residual tension in Chris's body and knew he still needed more to calm down. He began running his hand through Chris's hair, and decided to share a memory from their childhood.
"You know, one of my all-time favourite memories is from when we were like five, I think. Me and you were running around the house, chasing each other, even after mom already told us to stop twice,” Nick chuckled, “I was running ahead of you and looked back to see how close you were… Ran straight into the living room table, knocking mom’s expensive lamp to the floor. I really sent that fucker flyyying.”
Nick could feel Chris smile from how he had his face buried in his chest. “Do you remember?”
“Mhm…,” Chris mumbled quietly, nodding softly.
“So you know I stood there, frozen, it really felt like this was it, ya’ know, the world was ending,” Nick continued, “and you just stood next to me, eyes wide and mouth on the floor.”
"Then you started crying, like a little baby," Chris said quietly, voice finally lighter, relaxed, happy even.
“Uhm, yeah, cuz’ I was one,” Nick snorted, “anyway, mom came running in, asking what happened. I was still crying, too scared to say anything, and you just,” Nick’s tone was now fond, loving, “you said it was you, that it was your fault. You said you broke the lamp, so ‘don’t send Nicky to jail’.”
They both smiled at the memory, a reminder of the bond they’ve always shared. “You took the blame for me, thinking you’d go to fucking prison, no hesitation whatsoever. Literally insane,” Nick finished the story, smiling lovingly.
“… and I’d do it again,” Chris mumbled into his chest, hugging him tighter.
Nick pressed a small kiss to his head. “I know, kid. You’re weird like that.”
Nick continued to stroke Chris's hair until his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep, safe and secure in his brother's embrace. As Chris drifted off, Nick lay there, grateful for the trust and love between them, determined to be there for Chris, just as Chris had always been there for him.
“I love you… so, so much,” Nick whispered, before drifting off as well.
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They hadn’t spoken about it, not since the very beginning, and even then nothing beyond short reassurances that it ‘wasn’t his fault’ or that he ‘did the right thing’. They all thought about it almost constantly, knew that they’d need to get to it eventually, but… Nick and Matt didn’t dare bring it up first, and Chris wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Maybe forever. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to talk about it.
Weeks turned into months, and while Chris got better, he still wasn’t the same, how could he be, he had to live with knowing he had killed someone. Not even indirectly or something, but actively and intentionally. Maybe he hadn’t intended to kill him, but the result was the same nonetheless – Chris could still feel holding that rock and the moment it connected to his head. He saw his face every night in his nightmares.
Chris still blamed himself, wishing any part of that day had gone differently. He wished Jarred never existed and the whole stalking thing hadn’t happened in the first place, obviously. But the more he replayed the events over, the more ‘what ifs’ he came up with; what if he never set up that date, what if he had never argued with his brothers, what if he had never stormed out, what if he had gone to a more populated area, what if he had fought back harder, what if he had never grabbed that rock, ... A countless stream of whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif…
Chris talked about it vaguely in therapy, but no matter how the therapist tried to help him, rationalise and explain his mental state, the advice she gave… Chris couldn’t learn to forgive himself, he didn’t know where to start, or if he deserved it in the first place.
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Unsurprisingly, it was Nick who cracked first, and it was a good thing he did, since Chris wasn’t likely to ever start that conversation.
It was night out and they were walking towards the parking lot, their path dimly lit by the street lamps. Chris was walking a few steps ahead, silent and withdrawn, lost in his mind. A few months ago, that would be completely out of the ordinary for him, but now… Nick and Matt learned not to push him to engage with them too much. This distance had become their new, unspoken normal—Chris quiet and stuck in his head more often than not, and Nick and Matt trying to keep the mood light, happy just to have Chris close to them.
Suddenly, the calm was shattered. Chris, not paying attention, took another step forward—when he was roughly grabbed at the back of his hoodie and yanked back with a force that left both him and Nick stumbling. Not a second later, a car zoomed past, its horn blaring aggressively, as he sped off without stopping.
"What the fuck, what the actual fuck, Chris?" Nick's voice was thick with fear, his words tumbling out in a fit of frantic anger. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, kid?"
Matt was right next to them, his face a mask of shock, drained of colour, his eyes wide with the raw fear of what had nearly just happened. "Chris, fuck, are you okay?" he asked, his voice breaking. "You can't do that, you can’t be so careless—we almost…,” he trailed off, unable to finish that thought.
Chris's reaction was a mere shrug, a mumbled “Sorry,” that hung heavy in the air, his eyes hollow, not meeting theirs.
Nick and Matt exchanged a look of disbelief, their expressions a mix of concern, hurt and fear. It was then that Nick's patience, worn thin by months of silent worry, finally broke.
"Yeah, no. Fuck this, I'm done tiptoeing around this issue," Nick snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. "We're talking about this now, Chris. We're gonna figure this out, right fucking now, whether you like it or not."
Chris, caught of guard, felt the familiar twist of anxiety in his gut, the world tilting as he was faced with the ‘intervention’ he'd been dreading. His first instinct was to deflect, to argue and deny, but he knew his brother well, he knew there was no changing his mind or getting out of this, once Nick got like this.
Before he could even say anything, Nick continued, laying it all bare, acknowledging Chris’s pain and need for space, his and Matt’s best efforts, giving him space and silent support, with the hope that he would open up when he was ready. But it was clear that the approach wasn't working. "You're not yourself, Chris," he implored. "And it might be understandable, yes, I get that trauma changes people, but fuck, it doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself completely!”
Chris was shocked, no one had yelled at him like that in months, his anger flared instinctively, and he lashed out, screaming right back at him. "When the fuck did you get a psychology degree, Nick? How the fuck do you think you can speak to me like you know what I’m going through? Why do you all expect me to just move on from something like this?”
Matt intervened with a gentle firmness, cutting them both off. "It's not just about moving on, Chris. It's about accepting what happened, but not letting this define you. You're not even trying to heal, you just keep suffering in silence and we’re forced to just stand back and watch. We almost lost you just now because you're so trapped in your head."
Tears breached Chris's defences, pooling in his eyes, but not yet falling. His voice raw and hurt as he cried out, "Then maybe you should let me go! I can just move out, since I'm nothing but a burden anymore. It would be for the best, anyway, so you’re not forced to live with a disgusting fucking murderer!"
The gasp from Nick and Matt was audible, their bodies recoiling as if Chris's words were physical blows. Nick's eyes were wide, filling with tears, his voice a whisper, broken and disbelieving. "You think you’re a murderer? You really see yourself that way?"
Chris’s silence and tear-stained cheeks were answer enough.
It was Matt who moved then, his arms wrapping around Chris, pulling him in a hug that was both a lifeline and a plea. "You're not a murderer, Chris. You are many things, but that just isn’t one of them. You're strong and determined, honest and brave… You’re our brother and we love you more than I can ever express… what happened was self-defence, there’s a difference, don’t ever call yourself that word again. "
Held in his brother’s loving embrace, Chris started sobbing, his emotions and stress finally overflowing. He wrapped his own arms around Matt, clutching his shirt, crying into his neck. "It doesn't matter,” he choked in-between sobs, “a person is still gone because of me. I killed him with my own hand. Jarred was human too, and now he’s dead forever."
Nick's own tears spilled over, but he closed his eyes and steeled himself. His response was low, hatred clear in his voice. "Good.”
Chris’s head snapped to him at that, and Nick held his gaze as he continued. “I’m glad he’s dead. He deserved it. Chris… I promise you this… If you hadn’t done what you did, if he had survived… I’d have killed him myself.” Chris was staring at him in shock, eyes sad and confused, waiting for Nick to clarify. “There is no universe in which I let that freak live in the same world as us, as you. I don’t care how many years in prison he’d get, it wouldn’t be long or far away enough. I couldn’t and wouldn’t let that shit stain, that fucking trash live after what he put you through. I’d go to prison for you any day, if I had to.” Nick finished, stepping closer and hugging Chris with one arm.
“No, no, Nick, I don’t want that for you, I don’t ever want you to feel this… horrible guilt. It’s eating away at me, like a part of me died with him,” Chris admitted, voice watery and broken.
“You’re forgiven, Chris,” Matt pulled away enough to look him in the eye, “if that’s what you need, I’ll say it a million times. I forgive you. I love you, I’m glad that you survived, and I forgive you for how you did it.”
Chris broke then, his intense, painful sobs rocking his body, as if releasing a torrent of pent-up grief, pain and guilt, his arms clutching at both brothers. "I'm sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn't want that to happen... I fought as hard as I could, I held on for as long as possible... But, there wasn’t anything more I could’ve done."
They let him cry for a bit, hugging him and crying with him. Then, as he started to calm down, Nick took Chris's face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. "If there was nothing more you could've done, why do you punish yourself?"
The question was a key turning in a lock, a glass shattering in his head, his soul leaving and reconnecting with his body. Chris's emotions flickered across his face as he processed the truth in Nick's words. He couldn’t believe it. The thought struck something within him, making everything fall in place. "I did everything I could," he repeated, his voice steadier, looking between Nick and Matt for final reassurance.
"That's right," Matt nodded, a small smile on his lips. "You did everything in your power. And I am so unbelievably proud of you for that."
Chris smiled back and choked on another sob. His voice wobbly, but hopeful as he admitted what else was on his mind. "I don't know how to forgive myself."
"We have time," Nick assured him, pulling Chris back into their embrace. "And you don’t have to figure it out yourself. We'll do it together."
Chris looked between them, eyes red and watery, looking so damn hopeful that it was just too much. They held onto each other and cried for a while longer. Then Nick said they should probably get home already, and Matt confessed that he forgot his keys at their friend’s place and didn’t know when to bring it up. Then their sniffling turned into laughing, and that laughter grew as they looked at each other. They laughed so much they couldn’t breathe, doubled over, with Chris even kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach.
Right there, under the cold glow of the parking lot lights, they knew they’d be alright.