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The scenery suddenly changed, the awful imagery disappearing as his eyes shot open, remaining wide and alarmed. He bolted upright, gasping for air as if the horrors of his nightmare had chased him into consciousness. Chris’s world shifted from the too vivid murder-scene, back to reality of his dimly lit room. His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe, it was impossible to get a full breath of air. Chris was still wildly disoriented, hand clutched over his heart, which was beating so hard it was painful. His vision was foggy, mind panicked and the ringing in his ears was so loud he couldn’t hear anything over it.
His room, usually warm and safe, now seemed alien. The moonlight filtering through the window cast dark shadows, which did nothing to help his fear. It took a moment for Chris to recognise the walls of his own room, the outlines of furniture slowly morphing into familiar shapes. But the horror of the dream clung to him, not yet easing up.
His breaths came in ragged gasps, vision still swimming. Why can’t I come down? He tried to regain control over his body, to regulate his breathing and fully shake off his disgusting nightmare, but for some reason he just wasn’t able to pull it together.
In the quiet of the night, in the aftermath how his overwhelming nightmare, the only thing he wanted was the reassuring presence of his brothers. Nick and Matt were safe, the two people he didn’t doubt to always have his back. But this was one of the rare nights Chris chose to sleep alone, a decision he’s come to regret.
He attempted to get up from the bed, without a clear destination in mind, he just needed to get out of here. Each movement was a struggle against the left-over fear that clung to him, making his limbs feel heavy. The room spun, Chris could barely make out the shapes of the furniture around him, then to make matters even worse, a surge of nausea overcame him and his stomach lurched, so he had to strain not to throw up. Panic tightened its grip, and he fought the urge to scream.
Chris’s hands fumbled blindly on the nightstand for a glass of water, but he was still shaking and disoriented, so as the glass met his trembling fingers, it slipped from his grasp. The shattering sound echoed in his ears, another factor that added to his chaotic state of mind. He winced, mentally cursing to himself.
Desperation still clawed at him. He needed for it to end, he had to get up, to escape the suffocating grip of his nightmare, but his body refused to cooperate. The room closed in around him, prolonging his mental battle.
He tried to force himself to stand, but his leg ended up buckling underneath him, causing him to fall forward on the floor, landing harshly on his side.
His arm collided with the shards from the broken glass and pain immediately overtook his senses. A sharp shard etched itself into his upper arm, and warm blood began to seep from the wound. The metallic scent following.
Fuck, Chris cursed under his breath, speaking for the first time since waking up. He pushed himself to a sitting position and fumbled with his hand to find his phone, turning on the flashlight as soon as he found it. He inspected the cut and noticed the shard was still sticking out from his arm, blood flowing freely. Goddammit, fucking shit. He was properly annoyed, he knew he had to take care of this as soon as possible, then still clean the mess that the broken glass, spilled water and his blood made on the floor.
He slowly got up and went to the bathroom, wincing at the intense brightness as he turned on the light. He took care of his wound quickly, he just wanted this night to be over with. He bit his lip as he drew out the shard, then once more as he disinfected and wrapped it. It wasn’t too bad, the scar would likely take a long while to completely disappear though. I bet the scar will look cool as fuck, he smirked to himself.
It took him less than ten minutes to clean up the mess he made when he returned to his room later and by the time he finished, his eyes were already heavy. He laid back in his bed, too tired to think, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
It wasn’t until a few days later that Chris realised how the pain from his cut effectively distracted and freed him from the mental prison of his violent nightmare.
.
.
.
After waking up to another panic attack, confused, disoriented and gasping for breath, Chris didn’t even notice he started biting his lip so hard it started bleeding, not until he felt the metallic taste on his tongue and the pain was too much to ignore. Then that took over his senses and his focus was automatically drawn to the source of that pain. He forgot about his panic attack.
The next time it happened was also an accident, Chris hadn’t meant to dig his nails in his palms so hard they broke skin, but it did the job, the pain broke him out of his panicked state.
All the times after that were intentional though. This is how Chris’s bad habit started.
.
.
.
It wasn’t a problem, really. Chris only did it every once in a while, he swore to himself he had it under control. This wasn’t really self-harm, he didn’t hate himself, nor did he do it to ‘punish’ himself or anything like that. It just so happened to be the most effective way to snap him out of his panic attacks and nightmare-induced suffocating states.
So what if he took a razor to his upper arms or small kitchen knife to his thighs once or twice a week. It wasn’t like he was addicted to the feeling, he could and would stop as soon as his too regular nightmares stopped or at least lessened in their intensity.
And he was only hiding these scars so Nick and Matt wouldn’t worry needlessly. They just wouldn’t understand, they’d get all worried and Chris couldn’t stand when they looked at him with actual, genuine concern, it was a repulsive feeling, he hated it. So if keeping them in the dark about his new, harmless coping mechanism would prevent them from causing a scene… then so be it.
He’d simply wear bigger T-shirts, with naturally longer and baggier sleeves. It wasn’t summer anymore, so he needn’t worry about going to the pool in front of them. He just had to watch how he walked a bit, so his thighs didn’t rub against anything too much. And if he suddenly started locking the bathroom door as he showered, that was nobody’s business but his.
Because it’s not like Chris had a problem. He knew himself and his limits. Everyone had their own methods, their own ways to cope. If his left some minor scaring then so be it. Chris didn’t even do it often enough for it to be too serious. He didn’t have a problem, okay??
.
.
.
Since they lived together, it didn’t take a genius to notice even smaller deviations when it came to each other’s ‘normal’. So it didn’t take long for Nick and Matt to start noticing the changes in their brother’s behaviour.
It was small, unimportant things at first; Nick frowned the first time he tried to get into their bathroom to take a hairbrush, only to find it locked, but didn’t think too much of it, since while Chris didn’t usually lock after himself, it wasn’t weird for anyone to want privacy while showering. So Nick forgot about the incident two seconds after it happened and went on with his day.
While doing their laundry that week, Matt noticed the abrupt change in Chris’s selection of shirts; usually there’d be a mix of sleeveless shirts and tighter t-shirts in the mix, but this time there were only larger t-shirts or ones with long sleeves. But the kid was unpredictable, and this wasn’t anything too weird, so Matt just raised his eyebrows at the initial realisation, then the thought was gone.
They had both noticed Chris seemed somewhat subdued, but neither said anything, since they all went through periods when they were simply more tired and had less energy to spend. It wasn’t concerning yet and Chris obviously knew he could talk to either of them if there was something on his mind.
The first time they talked about it was one night after watching a movie together, when Chris excused himself first and went up to his room to retire of the night.
“Is it just me or has he been going to sleep much earlier recently?”, Matt turned to look at Nick from his spot on the couch.
Nick nodded, furrowing his brow in thought. “He definitely has. But what’s weirder than that… have you noticed he’s been sleeping in his room every night now? I don’t think he’s slept anywhere else in weeks.”
There was no need for him to explain why this was weird, they both knew their brother and his sleeping habits; normally, Chris wouldn’t spent more than two consecutive nights in the same room, much less alone in his room.
Matt put his phone aside and focused entirely on their conversation, feeling the tension rise slightly. “That is weird. And that’s not all, it might be nothing, but I noticed he stopped wearing sleeveless shirt and t-shirts completely.”
“And started locking the door while using the bathroom,” Nick continued, concern rising.
They looked at each other quietly for a few moments, thinking it all over.
Nick was the first to speak, seeing how Matt was starting to get worked up over it. “It’s probably nothing…”
“He’d tell us if something was wrong or?”, Matt asked, wanting to reassure himself.
Nick sighed. “It seems to me like it might have something to do with wanting to be more independent? Maybe he got in his head about our individuality again or something…”
“Yeah… might be… I say we talk to him about it if he doesn’t bring it up first though,” Matt thought that explanation would make sense, and it likely wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but better be safe than sorry.
Nick rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded. “Sure. It doesn’t seem like anything to worry about but we can mention it in passing later anyway.”
Then they changed the subject and hung out for a little while longer, before going to their respective rooms as well. They didn’t bring the topic up again.
Not until they saw him starting to flinch.
.
.
.
In the recent weeks, since Chris’s ‘not a problem’ started getting worse, the atmosphere in the house had noticeably shifted, nobody could deny it any longer. The tension between the three brothers hung thick in the air. Chris, in particular, had been on edge, his temper worse than ever and ready to explode at the slightest provocation. It wasn't like him. His usual easy-going, laid back personality had been replaced by frustration and never-before-seen defensiveness.
Chris was never one to hold grudges or take offence to any insults the three ever threw at each other, but recently it seemed like he got offended and defensive at any comment aimed his way.
One evening, as they lounged in the living room, Chris was again the first to stand up to leave, and Matt couldn't resist teasing his brother about his mysterious solitary activities.
"Leaving again? Off to sulk alone in the darkness of your room? Mr. Mysterious over here," Matt grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
Chris's reaction was far from what he expected. His face contorted with anger, and he exploded, "What the fuck, Matt? Can't a guy have some fucking privacy? You’re so obsessed with me and what I’m doing it’s crazy."
Stunned, Matt and Nick were left gaping at Chris, who stormed off in a huff. The tension lingered in the room, an unspoken acknowledgment that something was indeed wrong.
They each tried talking with him; first separately then together, but Chris blew them off each time.
It all came to a head some days later, after a seemingly typical argument between Nick and Chris escalated into a full-blown confrontation. The source of their disagreement? Chris's refusal to film that day.
"Come on, Chris, we've got commitments. You can't just back out." Nick berated him, waving his arms around as he yelled.
Chris snapped, his face pulled together in anger. "I don't give a shit about your commitments, Nick. I said I'm not doing it today, so we’re not doing. it. today."
“Uhh, excuse you? That’s not for you to decide, stop being so selfish!”, Nick stepped closer to him, staring him down.
Chris’s anger only grew, but so did his anxiety. It was getting hard to breathe again, he needed out of this situation now. “Oh fuck you, Nick. Boss Matt around, I’m not your little puppet to manipulate how you want!”
He then started to turn away, intending to run away and lock himself in his room. Maybe he’d also need to do that, in order to calm down…
Nick, seeing that Chris was planning on running away again, decided in that moment that he has had enough. “That’s it, we’re talking about this attitude of yours recently!”
He reached out to grab Chris's upper arm, so he could hold him back and force him to listen. But Chris hissed and jerked back violently, an intense, involuntary flinch contorting his face in pain.
Time slowed down.
Matt and Nick stared at him wide-eyed in shock, looking at each other quickly then back at Chris, a shared realisation of what this could mean.
"Chris, what the hell is going on?" Nick's voice was shaking, his expression revealing his rapidly worsening concern and fear.
“Chris…?” Matt asked in a quiet voice, hand slowly reaching forward for his brother.
Chris, on edge and defensive, took a step back and retorted, "Nothing's wrong. Just leave it, leave me alone." But he couldn’t remain calm, face revealing his panic. He was starting to sweat and his heart was hammering so hard in his chest he was sure they could all hear it.
But Matt stepped in, fuelled by worry, "No, Chris. This isn't nothing. What happened to your arm? Did… did someone hurt you? Let us help."
Chris resisted, arguing, cursing, and deflecting. “What the fuck are you on about? You’re not funny, Matt. Here you go trying to play tuff-guy again. Just drop it and go be tuff somewhere else, okay? I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to-“.
Chris was ranting, but Nick, who managed to overcome his shock and was now unwaveringly determined and Matt, visibly distressed, weren't backing down. "Take off your hoodie, Chris," Nick cut him off, his voice stern yet filled with concern.
"Why the fuck should I?" Chris spat back.
“Take it off, now, Christopher” Nick repeated more harshly, leaving no room for argument.
Chris’s panic was intensifying, he knew he wasn’t talking his way out of this one. He quickly glanced to the side, trying to determine if the path to the door was clear and he could make a dash for it.
But before he could, his eyes were drawn to Matt, and seeing his expression made Chris freeze in his spot. Matt was looking at him with so much sadness and pain, eyes already red and filled with unshed tears. He looked heartbroken.
Matt’s voice cracked as he pleaded, "Chris, show us, please. We want to be here for you."
Chris swallowed harshly, his whole body shaking. A few frustrated tears made their way down his face as he gave up and slowly took off his hoody, revealing his secret.
As Chris stood there, exposed, the room fell into an uneasy silence. The harsh reality of his pain was etched into his skin, a silent testimony to the battle he'd been fighting alone. He knew his arms were littered with scars of various sizes, some already healed, some fresh. His eyes were glued to the ground, unable to face his brother’s broken expressions.
"Chrissy?" Nick's voice wavered, his usually composed demeanour shattered by the sight before him.
Chris, feeling small, exposed, judged and afraid answered in a bitter, shaky voice, "Why do you care? It's my business."
Instead of an answer, Chris heard a small sniffle. His head shot up and his eyes searched out Matt, who was unable to hold back his emotions. Tears were streaming freely down his face, one hand held up and covering his mouth.
Caught off guard by Matt's tears, Chris hesitated. He looked back at Nick and noticed both of them shared expressions of shock, worry, and profound sadness.
It was then that it all just got too much, and it was as if the floodgates holding back his own emotions were suddenly opened. Chris let out a frustrated scream, then crumbled, sinking down, the weight of his struggles too much to bear alone.
Nick and Matt, no longer mere spectators, rushed forward to join him on the floor. They enveloped Chris in a gentle embrace, holding him as they all cried together.
Once he started, it was hard to stop, not that he tried. Chris cried openly, letting out all the stress, fear and frustration that has built up in the past several weeks. He was crying so hard he started to sob, and soon breathing became hard again.
“Shhh, it’s okay kid, we’ve got you, you’re okay,” Matt soothed calmly, quietly, while rubbing gentle circled across his back.
“We’re with you sweetheart, there’s nothing to worry about. Just breathe, come on, try to match me,” Nick comforted, taking Chris’s hand and placing it on his own chest, so he could feel his chest rising and falling, “just like that, in… and out… in… and out…, that’s it, you’re doing perfectly.”
It took a while, but eventually Chris managed to regulate his breathing enough to calm down. They were still holding onto each other on the floor of their living room, breathing deeply, with drying tear-tracks on their faces.
Once the initial storm of emotions subsided, the room was filled with whispers of reassurance. "You'll be alright, Chris," Nick murmured, his voice soft but firm.
Matt quickly added, "We're with you every step of the way. You're not alone in this, whatever you’re dealing with, we’ll share your burden."
Chris, vulnerable and open, explained in a shaky, breaking voice, "I wasn't doing it to hurt myself, guys. It's the nightmares - they're so intense, so gruesome... I have them almost every night now and they’re always so disgusting and leave me completely terrified. When I wake up, I can't see, I can’t breathe, sometimes I can’t even move and it’s just so horrible and scary I can’t take it! And- and the pain is the only thing that brings me back to reality, it’s the only thing that helps."
Nick and Matt exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. Completely determined, they made a promise, "You won't face those nightmares alone anymore. At least one of us will sleep next to you for the foreseeable future, until they stop completely, however long it takes."
Chris, warmed by their solid support, whispered, "I don't know why I didn't ask for help before. I guess I didn't think it was a problem, but then it got out of hand, and I got addicted. I need help guys."
“And you’ll get it,” Nick shot immediately, “you best get used to sleeping with someone again fast, cuz’ there’s no way I’m letting you out of my sight any time soon, buddy.”
Chris just smiled softly and hugged his brother closer.
“I love you so much Chris, please never do it again…”, Matt added sadly.
Chris turned to look at him, then laid his head on Matt’s shoulder. “I love you too, so much… both of you... And sorry for being a dick these past few weeks.”
Nick huffed and smiled. “You were pretty douchy yeah… You can pay for take-out tonight and I’ll consider forgiving you,” he said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
Chris rolled his eyes and returned his smile. “You got it… Thanks.”
Everything wasn’t suddenly magically better, their problem wasn’t immediately solved. But they were hopeful now.
That day, Nick and Matt would have to search Chris’s room and take all of his blades and sharp objects. Chris also had to agree to regular check-ups, proving he had no new scars anywhere. This was uncomfortable for all of them, but absolutely necessary and not up for discussion. The three of them all slept together for the first few nights, then switched between Nick and Matt staying with Chris.
He still had his nightmares, and although they were noticeably less frequent, they were still quite intense when they happened. But he wasn’t alone to deal with them anymore, Nick or Matt were always there, right by his side. They calmed him down and helped faster and more effectively than any pain ever could.