(Vent.

tw: depression, talk of self-destruction of nearly all kinds.

Stay safe.)

You're disappearing.

You know it, as certainly as you know that you're still waking up each morning, trying to manage, only to feel as hopeless as ever by the afternoon.

Trent just sees it.

He doesn't really know for sure that you're in trouble of any sort, -- maybe he's paranoid, overreacting to some sort of normal rut that everyone falls into every now and again.

And yet, considering the sort of state you seem to currently be in, he's starting to find that hard to believe.

You've all but stopped talking to him. Even when you're right next to each other, all day long, it's easy for him to believe that he's in the company of a ghost, or no one at all.

There's no more laughter, or even conversation. There's no more spontaneous 'I-love-you's,' no more moments when you jump into his arms and kiss him all over his face, making him laugh and blush like no one else had ever managed to.

There's just a shadow of you left, -- enough for him to know that you're still breathing, still eating three meals a day, still falling asleep next to him at night.

Other than that...

There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of you left.

He figures he's being a coward. Maybe he needs to man up and talk to you about it, start asking questions, even if he's afraid of what the answers might be.

With this thought in mind, he turns over on his side, looks at you, lying next to him.

Something about this scene makes his heart ache, -- even when he doesn't have the slightest idea of what you're thinking, he finds the simple act of looking at you so lovely.

You're beautiful, you're his, and you're one of the few things he can count on to make him truly feel happy.

He loves you so much, and he's pretty sure you need saving.

He reaches over, gently smoothes a hand through your hair to grab your attention, break you out of the trance you seem to have fallen into.

Startled, you jump before looking up at him, wide-eyed.

He forces a smile onto his face, attempting to give the impression that nothing is wrong. "Hi."

...and then he gives up on that 'nothing's wrong' thing, because it's so obviously false that it isn't even funny. The fake smile fades as his eyes meet yours, his hand travelling down to gently caress your cheek. "What are you thinking about?" he inquires.

All the while, he keeps on looking into your eyes, hoping to see, even if you won't tell him.

Luckily, he doesn't need to worry about that.

For the first time in weeks, you open your mouth to tell him something sincerely.

Now, it's not the silence that bothers him. It's the words that break it.

"Do you ever wish you were just... Bleeding out?"

He jumps, -- no, recoils. He backs away from you, something like betrayal forming in his expression.

"Jesus," he says. "What are you--"

He doesn't even get to finish the sentence before the tears come to your eyes.

And then it's all overflowing, -- you're sobbing, shaking, swiping angrily at your eyes.

Trent's heart breaks as you cry. He isn't quite sure what exactly he needs to do, -- so, on a whim, he gently but firmly places a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, -- come on," he gently chides, willing himself not to let his upset show. "Look at me."

You obey, sniffling.

Inhaling a deep breath, he decides to ask the age old, -- yet completely obvious, -- question. Asking that question seems to be a lost art between the two of you, really.

"Are you... Are you okay?"

You can't do much more than shake your head.

A sudden combination of sorrow and panic washing over him, he asks the less tactful question. "You aren't actually planning to do something to yourself... Are you?"

Despite the fact that it's a completely inappropriate reaction to the situation, you laugh. "I couldn't," you say. "I'm too much of a coward."

Suddenly, all that sadness and fear that he felt is replaced with anger.

Before he can even know any better, Trent snaps towards you, both of his hands coming to rest at either side of your face, holding your head in place. You gasp, shocked and somewhat frightened.

He's never touched you with such agressive force before.

But now, he does, eyes unblinking, filled with fire. "You listen to me," he hisses from between gritted teeth, "not hurting yourself isn't fucking cowardly."

Not knowing what to say, you take a quick, ragged gulp of air, nod a bit.

Eyes softening, Trent releases his grip on your face, only to pull your body against his.

With that, his touch relaxes a bit, allowing you to relax as well.

Gently, he runs a hand through your hair and down your back, an unspoken apology for handling you so roughly. You close your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he says finally, voice crackling as if it wants to break. "It's just... I don't want you to feel like I felt. I can't watch that happen to you. Not with how much I love you... I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

He pulls away, rests his forehead against yours as your eyes connect with one another. "You can tell me," he whispers. "What is it?"

You sigh, pulling back a bit. "It's not one thing, Trent, -- you should know that."

You look back at him, only to see the keenest sort of pain in those green eyes. Then you understand what he doesn't have the heart to say.

"It's not you," you clarify. "You actually don't have anything to do with it."

At those words, he looks somewhat relieved. If only somewhat.

Knowing he expects honesty, you continue. "It's not you recording or being on the road. It's not what your fans think of me. It's not just this crushing weight that fell on me for no reason."

You sigh before continuing, beginning to shake again. "It's the life I left behind, back at home. It's the same old routine every day, it's not feeling special anymore. It's not knowing what tomorrow's gonna bring, -- if you and I will ever get what we want, with the quiet and the dogs and the kids and the white picket fence. It's feeling like I don't deserve you--"

"Wait," Trent stops you. "I thought you said I didn't have anything to do with it."

You wipe your eyes again. "Maybe you do, -- just a little bit."

He sighs again, sounding exasperated. "Come here," he tells you.

Seemingly frozen, you simply stare at him.

He holds his arms out to you, hoping to get his point across. "Come here," he repeats gently.

With that, you collapse into his arms, allowing him to hold you in place as you crumble, sobbing. He shushes you, holding onto you tighter than he's ever held anything.

"Please don't go," he says, and you can hear his voice breaking, too, even as you cry. "I swear, I could look over your entire body, -- and if I found just one scar that you'd purposely put on yourself, it would kill me."

You nod against his shoulder, heaving a shuddering breath.

He maintains his grip on you, as if he's afraid that you truly will fade away completely if he so much as gets close to letting go.

Your pain somewhat numbed, at least for the moment, you stay latched onto him. Regardless of whether or not he can see or feel them, your tears continue to flow as you hope that you'll feel okay again someday.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Trent shaking along with you, followed by a broken sound.

You look up at him, realizing that he's crying, too, -- just as hard as you are, in fact.

You reach up, wipe a tear away.
"Please don't cry," you beg him. "I don't ever want to make you cry."

He gazed at you with a look of shock. "You're telling me you want to die," he says, "and you're worried about my crying?"

You nod. "Of course," you say. "I love you too much to want to see you cry."

He shakes his head. "You're really something," he says, tinges of annoyance in his voice.

Not knowing what to say, you shrug, lying your head against his chest and hoping that sleep will come to pull you under.

Meanwhile, Trent kisses your temple, hoping with every single bit of him that you'll stay, -- that you'll power through it.

Even if that means he has to give up his world as he knows it.

Even if that means him being the strong one for once.

(So that's how I've been feeling lately. Very personal, I know.

If you ever feel this way, take my advice and please, PLEASE talk to somebody, even if that's all you can do. Don't leave these things bottled up, and DEFINITELY don't act on them.

Stay safe, babes. I love you.

- Mel)