T/W// Depression
A/N// This is going to be, as the title says, a pretty message driven chapter. Sorry!
Paintbrush mumbled to themself as they turned over in their bed. The sheets hung over the edge, then pulled itself off and onto their hardwood floors. The quiet thump of the thick fabric hitting the floor pulled them out of their sleep, although they were still very tired.
"Hmm... what time is it..." They muttered, reaching over to their nightstand and patting blindly on the cold surface until they felt their phone. They ran their fingers along the textured case to make sure they had the right thing and grabbed it off the table.
As Paintbrush turned their phone to see the screen, they were instantly flash-banged by full brightness, "Agh! Shit!" They dropped their phone on their mattress and covered their eyes with a groan. "It's too early for this..."
They turned their phone on and squinted, quickly swiping down the UI and turning their brightness all the way down to the dimmest setting. To their surprise, it wasn't something like 4 a.m.
It was 12 o'clock in the afternoon. They widened their eyes in surprise and hopped out of bed, almost falling over because of their low iron. They sprinted over to their curtains and whipped them open. Their phone clock was indeed right, they woke up at noon. Like always. They needed to get better about that. Too much work...
They rubbed their eyes as they stumbled to their bathroom, feeling miserable as always. They flicked on the light switch, the light shining into their dark, messy room. The floorboards creaked as they stepped in front of their mirror and inspected their reflection. Like the morning before, their appearance wasn't too flattering. Their hair was unkempt, bags under their eyes, and they even forgot to take their rings off. They might've lost a few in their bed, but they didn't care
They felt more tired than usual. They used to go out with their friends all day and still come home with even more energy than they started with. Now they were tuckered out after walking half a mile to the coffee shop and back. They stared at themself, their gaze flicking to different parts of themself.
What happened to me? They thought with a heavy heart. They were so tired all the time. They didn't want to do anything anymore. That morning, they didn't even have the energy to make music.
They didn't bother fixing up their hair. They turned the bathroom light off and walked back over to their bed, hopping onto it and turning on their LED lights. They kept them purple all the time. It made them feel more at home, for some reason. Their bed creaked as they reached over and grabbed their sheets off the floor, pulling them back on. Their comforter and mattress topper were tangled in a big wad, but they just stuck their legs in the pile and went on their phone. They expected the usual. No new messages from anyone personal, just Instagram DM's and people liking their TikTok posts. But this morning was different.
6:45 a.m
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Lightbulb - PAINTY!!1!!! HEYYY GOOD MORNIG HOW ARE YOU?? I HAE SCHOOL BUT IL TRY TO TEXT U SITLL :D
Paintbrush smiled softly, resting their cheek in their hand. It was nice to have someone like her. Lightbulb reminded them of when they were younger.
They sure were a kid, alright. They were always eager to hang out. They responded immediately and always texted first. The only thing that was a problem was their anger issues. One time, they got into an argument with their friend group. They got onto them about how they never cared for them and sometimes blatantly ignored them. Their friends argued that they didn't always have to talk to them. This fight was at lunch. In front of the whole eighth grade. They lost control and yelled, tarnishing their reputation.
The memory made them cringe. The pain they felt, the pure rage. They could never escape it. They dropped their phone and hit their forehead with their palm. Jesus Christ, stop it. Stop thinking. Just stop it.
They groaned, the memories flooding back to them once again. The cold tile floor of the bathroom, the solid door against their back. The hot tears that ran down their cheeks. Their mother's sympathetic voice emitting from their phone's speakers.
Paintbrush covered their face, trying to think of something to cheer them up. Something. Anything. They couldn't. The tears started to come again. It was a routine at this point. Cry, then sleep for hours. They gave up and let it happen.
Their cries were silenced by their pile of blankets, their tears wetting the fabric. They hugged their blankets tightly, their body longing for the touch of someone. The buzz of their phone gained their attention. They sniffled and picked it up, wiping their eye.
Lightbulb - HEYYY
Lightbulb - I GOT MY PHONE ITS LUNCH!!
A soft chuckle escaped their lips.
Paintbrush - hey lightbulb
Lightbulb - WYD
Paintbrush - js sitting around
Lightbulb - ARE OU OKAY???
Lightbulb - YOUR TEXTING SADLY
Lightbulb - WHATS WROGN
Paintbrush giggled and sat up straight.
Paintbrush - its nothing im js tired
Lightbulb - NUH UH
Lightbulb - YOURE SAD IM COMING OVER
Paintbrush - what- you dont even know my address
Paintbrush - ur also still at school 💀
Lightbulb - I HAVE MY WAYS
Paintbrush - okay dude wtv you say
They sighed and stood up, smiling at their phone. Talking with Lightbulb helped improve their mood. If she was serious about coming over I guess I could talk to her...
Paintbrush shook their head with a stern expression, leaving their bedroom to grab a snack. No, I can't. I can't trust anyone that much again. Not after eighth. They walked to their pantry, turned the knob, and stepped inside. Their eyes wandered to the variety of snacks their parents bought for them. They were always a picky eater, but it had been so much worse lately. They were always hungry, but they never had an appetite. They would wait until their stomach physically hurt because of how hungry they were, and then they'd finally eat a small meal. It was usually just enough to tide them over for the day.
It wasn't like they didn't like what shape they were in. They didn't care about that, their body was a whole other issue. They just couldn't eat anything. They'd grown tired of all the food their parents had, and they didn't have enough energy to cook.
Well, guess I'm getting fast food. Again. They thought as they ran back upstairs to grab their keys. They fixed their hair to look presentable in the hallway mirror, then made their way out to their car. They unlocked it and climbed inside, the engine revving up as they stuck the key in and turned it. Paintbrush pulled up the parking brake, shifted it into gear, and was off.
It wasn't until they were halfway to their destination that they realized they had forgotten their phone. Whatever. It's just to get food, I don't need it.
A/N// help okay why is Paintbrush so me in this chapter 😭 literally this is ugh I hate making them sad but I have to set up the storyyyyy
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✮ Rockstar ✮ || A Lightbrush Fanfiction
FanfictionTW// This fic includes topics of Gender Dysphoria and Depression. Reader discretion is advised Paintbrush is a 16 year old dropout music artist with a dream to become mainstream. Even though they may have the skills, do they have the willpower to ge...
