Work Text:
2020
It was Rye who brought up singing the song while the five of them were sat in the living room, discussing the set list. It was a beautiful one. But not one touched for a year at least. Shepard's Bush seemed like a special show to bring it out for the audience. "What do you guys think?" he asked, patiently awaiting responses.
"Harper and Sonny don't know it so that'll need to be something that happens. But yeah, I think singing 'Don't Hurt Yourself' is actually a really good idea," Brooklyn said, before quickly adding with a smirk "What a rare occasion this is. You don't have many." Rye then proceeded to throw his cup of water at the boy.
Andy was about to respond when the other boys watched as his chest tensed up and his breaths became rasped. He pulled his inhaler out of his sweatshirt pocket, gave it a quick shake, and pressed the plastic object to his lips. "I think I want to get some air really quickly outside. Ryan- I mean Sonny, come with to make sure I don't pass out?" he requested. Sonny agreed, shooting him a concerned look not different to the faces the other three boys held. They were worried this could end up being a bad attack.
It wasn't a bad attack. Wasn't even an attack. Andy was faking it. But he didn't let anyone know that. He needed to get Sonny alone, pick at the boys brain to make sure the song was doable. Sonny couldn't know that, though, because Sonny couldn't know that Andy knew he used to cut.
The only reason Andy knew of his past was because Sonny's mother let him in on the secret in private. She needed to know someone would look out for her boy because she wasn't going there at all times. She went to Andy only because she'd known him the longest.
"Breathing better?" Sonny asked after a moment of quiet that he'd left to allow Andy to take in the outside air.
Andy was caught off guard. But recovered fast enough to give a nod and not giveaway his secret. While they sat, he took advantage of the alone time to subtly ask what he needed to. "You're learning a couple of new songs for this. How are you feeling about all it?"
"Little stressed. I think it'll be fine," Sonny replied, nonchalantly.
"I don't know if you've seen the video for "Don't Hurt Yourself". But that's a fan favorite because of how the song resonates home with a bunch of our fans." Sonny just shrugged at this. It was like a game of chess. Neither side wanted to let the other in on their headspace. Andy was trying to know Sonny's play without letting him in on his own and Sonny was simply worried about preserving his own.
"I've heard the song. It's a good one. I'm glad we're singing it," Sonny lied, straight through his teeth. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. He can acknowledge it was an important song for the audience to hear. But he wished he didn't have to sing it.
Once Andy had concluded Sonny was probably fine preforming the song and he was trying to dig for emotions not there, as well as the fact he got a text from Harper asking if an ambulance was needed or a shovel to bury Andy's dead body, they decided to head back in.
Unfortunately, learning the lyrics had been harder than Sonny initially assumed it would be. But that was not because his harmony was out of the norm or his solo was incredibly wordy. No, it was a secret from his past that weighed him down while they practiced. The one Andy originally worried about.
He found he needed to excuse himself multiple times, claiming he drank way too much soda earlier today, to calm down his racing heart ready to throw the boy head first into a panic attack. His friends would laugh, claiming he was to skinny to have a quality bladder. Then, Sonny would proceed to run to the bathroom and lock himself in there while sliding to the floor.
. . .
It confused Sonny. Why was it a song he barely wanted to sing and yet the audience was screaming along as if it's a rave and the best song came on. As soon as the song started, it got cheers from the wild audience as if it was their platinum single coming on and everyone was ready to dance their hearts out. It was ridiculous. However, he hoped they were too into their dance parties to notice the tears that had begun to trail down his cheeks.
As the song progressed, more and more water traveled from his eyes and he could not control it. A couple of times, Brooklyn gave his arm a light slap and mouthed words of concern. Sonny tried to laugh it off every time. But he clearly wasn't believable considering his eyes were surrounded by puffy, red skin.
The song came to a close and Sonny found himself unable to stop the sobs breaking through. He looked side to side, from his bandmates to the audience, all watching with cameras glaring at his face. Shame and embarrassment rose in his cheeks. Everyone saw the tears pouring from his eyes. With no idea what else to do, he did an about face and ran off stage to hide from it all.
Everyone was unsure of what just happened. The remaining members of Roadtrip were trying their best to hide their confusion. But it was there, never the less. "Uh, that was 'Don't Hurt Yourself'. It's time for us to take a brief intermission now before the second half of the show." That was a lie. There were still two songs before intermission was supposed to happen. But Andy decided now was a more suitable time to call it. "You guys have been an amazing audience. We'll see you shortly. Enjoy the bathroom line."
Sonny had booked it to the men's bathroom and collapsed to the ground, back against the wall, as soon as he'd successfully slammed the door shut. His legs curled in against his chest, his body hunched over while he found himself watching his breath quicken.
Sonny heard his name being called out in attempts to locate him. But he didn't budge from his position, or more he couldn't. Just sitting, he felt like he would pass out at any moment. His breathing was irregular, working at rapid speed as if he hasn't had air in so long and was now finally getting some. Instead, he hugged his knees tighter in his arms and let the water trail down from his eyes.
Various doors were being opened nearby. He could faintly hear it. Footsteps grew closer and close, as well as voices, until the bathroom door was pushed open slowly and Brooklyn's head popped through. "Oh my god. Sonny, mate, what's happened?"
Sonny wanted to say he was alright. He spoke it in his head. But in reality, all he let out were gasps for air. A crying cough was heard in replace of an actual response. But that could be translated into a no for Brooklyn. "Hey, hey man. Look at me. Follow my breaths. I'm here. You're okay. You're okay."
Brooklyn took Sonny's trembling hands in his own and gave them a squeeze every time he inhaled and exhaled, a signal for the boy to follow suit. The rest of the boys had found the two right as Sonny was able to retake control of his lungs.
"Let me have a minute?" Andy asked and was given his request with no hesitation from the three others. Brooklyn gave Sonny one more squeeze to his hands before standing and exiting behind Harper and Rye.
Andy took a seat down next to Sonny, who simply trembled still. "This is going to make it in to so many sad Sonny edits, ain't it," Sonny joked and in an attempt to make it more convincing, he gave a laugh that ended up weaker than he wanted.
"I can promise you that you aren't the first to make a connection to the song and you weren't the only one crying in that room, if it's any consolation," Andy said, softly.
"You knew," Sonny stated. It wasn't a question. Despite not saying what the topic was, both him and Andy were aware of what he was referring to.
"Your mum told me the day you were dropped off at the house." Andy gently placed an arm around Sonny's shoulders and the brunette dropped his head onto his mate's shoulder.
"Do the other boys know?" Sonny asked.
"No."
"They should." This surprised Andy. But it wasn't an unpleasant surprise.
The other boys were in the green room, relaxing. But not speaking. Sympathetic smiles were thrown at Sonny the moment he entered from practically every face in sight. He was nervous. However, it was time he let others in on a dark part of his past. "I need to tell you guys something."
"Everything okay?" Harper asked, concern laced across his face.
"Yeah... I just-..." Sonny suddenly felt very nervous to dig up these memories suppressed in the back of his mind. A hand that belonged to Andy found its way to the back of his shoulder as he let himself be guided to the couch. "The song hit too close to home for comfort. I wasn't in a very good headspace after Overload ended. Things weren't looking up, I guess."
Sonny wasn't sure he could say more and continue to keep the tears at bay. Harper was the first to catch on, luckily, and spread the news for him. "Oh- you hurt yourself?" he asked, his voice leaving room for argument. Instead, his assumption was accepted by the curly haired boy. "God, Sonny. I'm sorry."
"Does anyone else know?" Rye said in a soft voice. His expression was one of comfort and warmth. Sonny didn't feel like he was surrounded by just strangers. These boys were his family.
"My mum. She found my blade in the bathroom and called me and Lolly down. Asked us to show her our wrists." Sonny remembers everything that happened so vividly, it was as if he could just press rewind and the scene would start over. Lolly had been wearing short sleeves that day. Sonny's face went pale at his mother's request and he began to fiddle more with the jumper sleeve than he previously was. Lolly was told to go up to her room and Sonny was asked once more to show his mum his wrists.
"She started crying, asking me things like 'how long'. I couldn't speak. I just stood there, crying, staring at my feet." His mother sat down on the chair, as if exhausted. She was no longer looking at him, instead staring into her hands with a hurt expression. "How could I have not noticed?" she said, defeated and Sonny could feel the sobs climbing up his throat. "She started blaming herself and I lost it. I was a sobbing mess, saying 'please don't say that'."
It was quiet. No one listening knew what an appropriate response would be. Brooklyn pulled the boy in for a hug and Sonny instinctively buried his head in Brooklyn's shoulder. Reliving the past, Sonny felt a new wave of tears rush in, soaking through Brooklyn's sleeve. He took a minute before he had composed himself enough to speak. "Mum is the reason I called Blair."
"You need to retake control of your life, Ryan. But not like this." She knew exactly what he needed because, well, she was his mother. She knew what was best for him when he didn't even. "I'll help you with whatever you need. But please. Let me in."
"Do you still have them? The- uh-" Brooklyn was inquisitive. But he was worried about where the edge would be when he pushed too far for information.
"The cuts, you mean?" A packet of makeup wipes were removed from the white vanity against the wall and opened. He ran the white cloth along the inside of his forearm until faint battle scars were visible. "They've scarred over. Some have even begun to disappear. But it'll be a while before they're no longer a tattooed reminder so I cover them up."
Andy took his wrist in his own hand and after a beat, the long time friend was pulled in for a hug. The remaining three boys didn't need an invitation to quickly join in and Sonny found himself surrounded by his bandmates.
A weight was off his shoulders, this was no longer a secret he had to carry alone. Being able to tell someone was much more releasing than he had anticipated. But a part of him still hung on to a portion of the truth. He didn't know why. But he found himself refusing to share a final part.
. . .
Sonny appeared in Rye's doorway, knocking gently to see if the older boy was awake. He was, kind of. "Hm?" Rye muttered, his eyes vaguely making out a human silhouette topped with curly hair sticking out in all directions.
"You were the only one awake. But it was eating at my brain a-and I couldn't sleep because I didn't tell any of you," he said softly. There was something about his tone that seemed so vulnerable and it made Rye a bit worried.
Flicking on the light revealed a guilty look on the curly haired boy's face and a black Vans shoe box in his two hands, held close to his body as if to protect whatever precious object was inside. "What's going on, mate? Everything okay?"
Sonny wasn't sure whether to nod or shake his head in rejection. Instead, he just shrugged his shoulders. He was waved over by the boy in bed and took a seat on the comforter. The shoebox was still in his tense grip. "I should've said something. But I didn't. I wasn't scared so I don't know why I didn't," Sonny rambled. His hands were visibly shaking, picking apart the cardboard corner of the box.
"Whatever it is, you're safe telling me. I promise- unless there's like, a dead dog in there. If you killed a dog I'm just going to throw you in a bigger shoe box," Rye joked, but also gave the nervous boy's arm a squeeze as to reenforce his point that he'd protect whatever information he was about to be presented with.
"Joining the band was one of the best decisions I ever made. You lot were amazing and I don't know if I ever felt more comfortable around any group of people that quickly." Sonny paused, trying to think of how he would phrase what came next. "But... uh... your fans were great, too. Don't get me wrong. Everyone was really welcoming. Almost everyone- I mean. Not a majority, obviously."
"Slow down. Take a breath. I told you, I'm not going to judge whatever you tell me," Rye said. He saw how the nerves the boy had were increasing with every word and he had an idea of what ballpark the topic would be in.
"Right. Yeah, so, uh... a couple of people were upset I was coming in as Mikey's replacement- not replacement- I mean I guess kind of. But-" Sonny saw the look Rye was giving him, the one telling him to collect his thoughts and slow his breathing before he continued. "I became pretty wrapped up in what people were saying about me and all a couple of days into the trial. I ended up going to one of those twenty four hour marts and buying these in the middle of the night."
It was at this point that Sonny gave the box to Rye, granting him permission to uncover whatever was inside and in turn, whatever secrets he had locked away since the trial. "Oh, Sonny." Metallic pieces reflected the light being admitted by the lamp right back at Rye. Inside were a set of three replacement blades with no razor.
"I never used them, I swear. But I kept them. Don't really know why. I guess I just liked feeling like I was in control of something and by not using them, I was acting on the control and pretending I was strong," Sonny muttered, his eyes invested in the state of his nails at that moment. "I wasn't really, though, considering I kept them this entire time."
Rye placed the shoebox to the side and pulled Sonny in for a hug. "You are one of the strongest people I know and I'm so damn proud of you. You didn't use them once. That's powerful." These words allowed Sonny to let out the breath he didn't realize he had held in since the lid to his hidden past had been removed. He felt a wave of relief wash over him and in turn came tears that were taking advantage of the walls that had been broken inside.
The two stayed in each other's arms while tears soaked through Rye's sleeve until Sonny collected himself enough to pull back and from a coherent sentence. "I want to get rid of them. I'm ready to. I'm want to end this."
Rye had a smile on his face, one of pride, directed at the curly haired boy, as he nodded and led him to the shared bathroom down the hall. He wrapped an arm around his bandmate while Sonny emptied the contents of the box into the toilet. A fresh batch of tears stung Sonny's eyes as he watched the blades leave the house once and for all. Rye wrapped his other arm around Sonny and hugged him while he cried tears of happiness. "You did it, mate. I'm so proud of you."