Chapter Text
Nick woke up gasping for air.
He sat up and clutched his chest, feeling like a fish out of water as he struggled to breathe. The burning pain in his chest made it hard to think, and it certainly didn’t help that his mind was still muddled and heavy with sleep.
Luckily, instinct quickly took over.
He lunged for his inhaler, fumbling blindly in the dark for several precious seconds until his fingers finally closed around the tube. He hurriedly brought it to his lips, pressing the canister and breathing in slowly. He repeated the process two more times before forcing himself to put down the inhaler to wait for the medicine to take effect.
The next ten minutes felt like eternity. But eventually, Nick found himself breathing a little more easily. The pain in his chest had eased, though the tightness still lingered uncomfortably. But it was nothing he wasn’t used to, and it’d fade in an hour or two anyway.
He exhaled heavily and slumped back onto his bed.
You’d think that after over a decade of living with asthma, he’d have gotten used to random attacks in the middle of the night, but it never got easier. It was still a painful and terrifying experience each time.
His asthma was pretty mild most of the time, though he still made sure to have his inhaler on hand just in case. Usually, the only times his asthma flared up was during cold weather or when his allergies were bad.
But this time, he wasn’t quite sure what was triggering his asthma. It didn’t feel allergies…he wasn’t sneezing and didn’t have his usual stuffy or runny nose. He had been coughing fairly often over the past week though, and his lungs felt really irritated for some reason.
Whatever the cause, Nick was too exhausted to work it out now. He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, more than ready to drift back to sleep after that harrowing ordeal.
Or rather, he tried to.
He spent the next hour tossing and turning before finally giving up. He always had trouble falling back asleep after an asthma attack, and this time proved no different.
With a groan, he pulled himself out of bed, grabbed his laptop and trudged downstairs. After making himself a strong cup of coffee, he collapsed on the couch and flipped open his laptop to edit their latest video.
And that was how Chris found him later that morning, hunched over his laptop with an empty mug at his side.
“Jeez, Nick. Did you sleep at all?” Chris asked, eyebrows creased in concern.
Nick blinked up at Chris blearily. “You’re up early.”
“And it’s past your bedtime. What happened?”
So Nick told him, sharing his recent struggles with his asthma.
“Have you tried taking Benadryl? I’m sure that will help,” Chris suggested.
Nick shook his head, pushing down his frustration with Chris’ usual unhelpful advice for managing his asthma. His brother just didn’t get it, no matter how many times he’d tried to explain it to him.
“It only helps if my asthma is triggered by allergies, Chris. And even then, it doesn’t help much,” Nick said wearily.
Chris shrugged. “Well, you won’t know until you try.”
“Yeah, sure. It’ll pass eventually anyway,” Nick sighed, not bothering to argue further. Changing the subject, he said, “Anyway, is it just me, or has there been a weird burning smell in the air lately?”
“Yeah, I’ve smelled it too. I think it’s coming from outside,” Chris replied.
Nick yawned and stretched out on the couch. “You think so? It smells like it’s inside our house.”
“I’m positive it isn’t,” Chris said confidently. “I mean, I already checked the stove, oven, and all the other outlets and appliances. Everything seems fine.”
Chris was probably right, Nick thought sleepily. Out of the three of them, Chris was the most paranoid about house fires since their old home burned down in Boston. If there was even a hint of a fire risk, he wouldn’t take any chances and would ensure to check everything thoroughly. Still, Nick couldn’t shake a small sense of unease.
Pushing the feeling aside, he rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus his attention on his work. But that was becoming an impossible task; his brain felt like it was swimming through sludge.
“I think I need another cup of coffee,” he mumbled.
“No, what you need is to get some proper rest,” Chris said firmly.
“I’m fine, Chris,” Nick groaned softly.
“Nick, you just edited the same clip twice,” Chris pointed out.
Nick squinted at the screen. “Did I?”
“Yes, and you’ve deleted the audio on the last two clips.”
“Oh. I guess I did.”
Chris sighed in exasperation, leaning forward to pull the laptop out of Nick’s hands.
“Hey—!”
“Go to sleep, Nick. You look like the walking dead right now. Seriously. I’m scared just looking at you,” Chris said, saving the video and setting the laptop on the coffee table.
“I’m not tired,” Nick mumbled, even as his eyelids grew heavier.
He must have dozed off anyway, because when he next opened his eyes, the sun was high in the sky and Chris was nowhere to be seen. He exhaled and let his eyes slip close again, the pleasant warmth of the morning sun lulling him back to sleep almost immediately.
“Are you insane?!”
Nick jolted awake at Chris’ yell.
“This is the dumbest, most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your life!”
“Mind your own fucking business, Chris!”
Nick sprang to his feet and ran towards Matt’s room, following the sound of his brothers’ raised voices. His stomach churned with worry, he had never heard Matt and Chris this angry before.
He burst into the room, briefly taking in his brothers’ furious faces before demanding, “What’s going on?”
Chris turned to him, looking irate. “Matt—he…he has been smoking!”
“ What?! ” Nick exclaimed in disbelief. Chris had to be mistaken. There was no way Matt of all people would ever be caught dead smoking.
Chris held up a pack of cigarettes. “I found this in his jacket.” He tossed the box to Nick, who caught it with trembling fingers.
“And he stinks to high heaven. I guess that explains the awful burning smell in the house these past few days,” Chris said roughly.
“There has to be an explanation. Right, Matt?” Nick said quietly, glancing at him.
Matt’s face was set in a scowl. “Of course there is. Chris didn’t let me speak—”
Chris let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, yes. Please do share why you thought it was a brilliant idea to fill your lungs with poison!”
“Chris, c’mon. Let him explain. Maybe there’s a good reason—”
“There’s no good reason to start smoking!”
“I know that! I’m upset about this too, Chris! But this is Matt we’re talking about—”
“It helps my anxiety!” Matt’s shout cut through their argument.
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of Matt’s heavy breathing.
Chris was the first to speak. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice subdued.
Matt took a deep breath. “Smoking helps me relax. It clears my head, allowing me to think and breathe for a while.”
Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. That made no sense.
How could smoking help Matt to breathe? Nick didn’t understand it. Every time he accidentally inhaled cigarette smoke, his throat would seize up and he’d start coughing uncontrollably. It’s why he could never stand smokers. He didn’t know why anyone would willingly inhale that acrid smoke every day, but if they had to, they should at least do it where no one else could smell it.
To think that Matt was one of those people…Nick just couldn’t accept it. In his mind, smokers were rude and selfish people who didn’t care about how they affected others. And okay, Nick could admit that he was being a bit unfair and prejudiced. Logically, he knew not all smokers were inconsiderate. But it was hard to remember that when he found himself choking every time someone smoked in his vicinity.
Nick glanced at Chris, who looked like he was having similar thoughts. None of the triplets were fans of smokers, but he knew Matt and Chris were a little more tolerant since they had a few friends who smoked. Did one of those friends introduce Matt to it?
Chris shook his head and sighed. “Why didn’t you tell us you were struggling? We could’ve talked about it, or gone out to do something together.”
“Because it doesn’t help!” Matt snapped. “Doing something else distracts me for a bit, but the moment I sit down to relax, all the thoughts come rushing back!”
“So you turned straight to smoking,” Chris said flatly.
Matt glared at him. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with anxiety, Chris. I just want to relax for once in my life. Is that so bad?”
“When it’s risking your life and health, yes!” Chris hissed. “There are so many other options, Matt! You didn’t have to turn to smoking of all things!”
Matt’s face flushed red with anger, but before he could start yelling, Nick cut in quickly. “When did this start, Matt? How long have you been smoking?”
Matt shrugged uncomfortably. “Just a few days ago,” he muttered, not meeting their gaze.
Nick and Chris exchanged a dubious glance. It seemed like Matt had been smoking much longer than that.
“But...there are only two sticks left in here,” Nick said, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes in his hand. “Are you saying that you’ve gone through nearly the entire pack in just a few days?”
“There isn’t much in one pack,” Matt said defensively.
Nick tilted the box to read the label. “Twenty isn’t much?” he said incredulously.
“Wait, there’s supposed to be twenty in there?” Chris demanded, snatching the box to check for himself. “This is insane, Matt! How can you even stand to smoke that many?”
Nick nodded in agreement. He couldn’t imagine smoking one cigarette, let alone twenty.
“You need to stop, Matt. This is too much. You’re going to get addicted at this rate,” he said seriously.
“If he isn’t already,” Chris muttered.
“I’m not addicted!” Matt argued. “I only smoke when my anxiety is really bad, at most one to two a day.”
Nick frowned. The math didn’t add up.
“Matt…there are only two cigarettes left in this box,” he said slowly. “If you’d really been smoking only one or two a day, that would mean you’ve been at this for at least nine days…or longer.”
Matt fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. “I…maybe I lost track. It could’ve been longer than a few days.”
Chris narrowed his eyes. “How long exactly?” he said sharply.
“…about a month,” Matt mumbled.
“A month,” Chris repeated, shaking with barely restrained anger. “And you didn’t tell us?!”
Matt clenched his jaw. “What does it matter? You guys found out anyway.”
“Because we’re your brothers! Why would you keep smoking for weeks instead of telling us something was wrong?!” Chris shouted.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out! Smoking isn’t even illegal. You’re acting like I’m doing drugs or something!” Matt yelled back.
“Matt, we’re freaking out because we care about you,” Nick interjected. “Don’t you understand that smoking could literally kill you?”
Chris scoffed. “I told him that earlier, just before you came in. You know what he said? ‘It’s not like I’m smoking five packs a day!’” he said mockingly.
“Shut up, Chris,” Matt said furiously. “It’s easy for you to judge when you don’t have anxiety. You don’t understand what it’s like to be paralyzed by your own fears and thoughts. Fuck this, I’m not going to stand here and listen to any more of this shit.”
With that, he shoved past them and stormed out of the room. His footsteps echoed loudly through the house as he made his way downstairs. Moments later, they heard the unmistakable sound of the car peeling out of the garage.
Chris let out a long breath and fell back onto the bed. With Matt gone, all the anger seemed to drain out of him, leaving exhaustion and despair in its wake. Nick joined him after a moment, pressing his shoulder against Chris’.
“What do we do, Nick?” Chris whispered, looking at him pleadingly.
“I don’t know,” Nick sighed. He wished he could reassure Chris, but he didn’t have a magical solution to give.
Chris worried at his bottom lip. “What if Matt doesn’t stop? He didn’t even listen to me.”
“I mean, you were yelling at him,” Nick reminded him. “You know how Matt is. He always reacts poorly when confronted about something he did, but he stops listening completely the moment we raise our voices.”
Chris raked a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I just…I just lost it when I found the cigarettes in his jacket.”
“You don’t have to explain, Chris. I would have done the same thing if I was in your shoes,” Nick said gently.
He knew Chris wasn’t really angry at Matt, he was just scared. Nick, on the other hand, had yet to process everything that happened. A large part of his mind still refused to accept that Matt smoked. It didn’t fit with the image he had of his clean freak brother, who was always complaining about how dirty and messy Nick and Chris’ bedrooms were. Matt seemed like the last person in the world to pick up such a nasty habit.
“How could he do this, Nick? He knows full well the dangers of smoking. Mom and Dad lectured us about it so many times growing up,” Chris said in frustration.
That had been troubling Nick too. Did Matt simply not care? That thought scared him more than anything.
“He said it helped him cope with his anxiety. Maybe it was bad enough that he felt he didn’t have any other choice,” Nick offered weakly.
“That’s no excuse! There’s always a choice! Matt’s anxiety was much worse back in high school, and he never did anything like this,” Chris argued.
“Yeah, but Matt had a bigger support group back in Boston. Aside from us, he had Mom, Dad, Justin, Nathan, and even Trevor,” Nick reasoned.
Chris frowned, looking a little hurt. “You mean we’re not enough for him? His own triplet brothers?”
“No! Of course not! At least…I don’t think so?” Nick said helplessly.
He winced internally. He was supposed to comfort Chris, not make him feel worse.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments.
“Do you really think he’s only been smoking one or two cigarettes a day?” Chris said finally.
Nick grimaced. “No.”
He wanted to give Matt the benefit of the doubt, but his brother had been a little too defensive about it.
“I thought so too,” Chris said with a heavy sigh.
“It’s going to be okay, Chris,” Nick said softly, squeezing Chris’ hand gently. “Matt will come around, I’m sure of it. We’ll help him work through his anxiety and quit smoking.”
Chris dropped his head on Nick’s shoulder and released a shaky breath. “I hope you’re right. This all feels like a bad dream,” he mumbled.
Nick wrapped an arm around Chris, pulling him closer in a comforting hug.
“It’ll all be okay,” he reassured, trying to convince himself as much as Chris. But no matter how many times he repeated the words, he couldn’t shake off the sliver of doubt.
What if Matt wouldn't stop smoking?