Author's Note: Slight trigger warning. Stay alive, Frens. |-/

•Tyler•

It's been two weeks since Jenna was released from the hospital, so she can finally resume normal life. Our first date is planned for tomorrow.
I toss and turn in my bed, sheets twisting around my body as if to strangle me, tortured by paralyzing anxiety as thoughts race through my head.

She doesn't like you. She only agreed to go out with you out of pity.

Who would like you anyways?

Why are you even going to try at a relationship when you know she'll leave you after she realizes how broken you are?

No one wants you.

Why are you even alive?

I crush a pillow over my head, trying to make the thoughts stop. Can't they just torture someone else's sleep?
Rolling over, I look at my alarm clock. 2 am. Our date is ten hours from now. Moaning, I get up and throw some better clothes on with some shoes. My feet carry me up the stairs, out the door, and into the woods before my brain even registers that I'm moving.
The treehouse looks creepy in the moonlight. Mist shrouds it like a blanket. I go up the ladder and climb over the top. Only then do I realize my ukulele is clamped in my other hand.
I lay on the floor, then turn and scramble toward the chest in the corner, the voices in my head still screaming. I flip frantically to a blank page in my notebook and fumble for my ukulele. I strum a random chord, which instantly starts to muffle the voices. However, it's not enough.
"Uaragh!" I yell, covering my ears. They won't stop. I freeze as lyrics start to blossom out of the darkness swirling inside my head.
I strum, not caring what notes I'm playing. I just need background music.
   You will never know
What's behind my skull
So won't you say goodnight, so I can say goodbye?
You will never know what's under my hair
So won't you say goodnight, so I can say goodbye?
And you will never know what's under my skin
So won't you say goodnight, so I can say goodbye?
And you will never know what is in my veins
So won't you say goodnight, so I can say goodbye?

My chest is heaving, and sweat is coating my skin as I sing. I feel a panic attack setting in. Josh says I should call him when they happen, but I don't want to wake him at this hour.
I stumble out of the treehouse as my brain suddenly decides to switch songs. I sing the beginning of an old one called Blasphemy. Only, I scream it instead of sing it.
"I start to part two halves of my heart in the dark and I!
"Don't know where I should go and the tears and the fears begin to multiply!
"Taking time in a simple place in my bed where my head rests on a pillowcase
"And it said that a war's lead,
"But I forget that I let another day go by!
"I want to be afraid, but it seems that these days I'm caught underwater and I'm falling farther my heart's getting harder I'm calling my father—
"Am I screaming to an empty sky?
"Empty sky, no way that's me
"'Cause one half of my heart is free
"Empty sky, no way that's me
"'Cause the other half of my heart's asleep!"
I collapse onto the forest floor, panting like a dog on a hot summer day. The woods are silent—as they should be at 2 am—except for a chiming sound. Apparently my phone made it into my pocket when I changed.
I shakily withdraw it from my pocket and open my text inbox.
Jenna: Are you up at this hour? I heard yelling coming from the woods.
Jenna: Is everything okay?

Help me, I text weakly, on the verge of passing out. I feel dizzy and a wave of nausea washes over me. The phone screen lights up from an incoming call. 
   "Tyler, what happened!? Where are you?" Jenna's voice sounds from the device.
   "The treehouse," I croak, barely above a whisper. My body loses tension as everything goes black.

•Jenna•

I sprint through the woods with a flashlight clenched in one hand and my phone in the other, still trying to get something out of Tyler on the other end of the line. Tripping on a rock is the least of my worries now.
The white beam of the flashlight hits the treehouse, and I start running faster. My feet suddenly fly out from under me.
Not again.
I don't hit my head this time, which I'm glad for. My eyes widen in shock as they land on the source of my stumble: Tyler's legs. I scramble around and kneel over Tyler, taking his face in my hands.
"Tyler!?" I cry. No answer.
"Tyler!" I scream more desperately. Nothing.
Tears form in my eyes, but I pull it together and check his wrists. They're fine. I let out a breath of relief and then lay my head on his chest. He's breathing, and he has a heartbeat.
Tyler's phone is hanging limply in his right hand, his ukulele sitting just out of reach of his left.
I'm glad he didn't hang up, because I'm not sure whether or not his phone has a passcode. Scrolling through his contacts, I find the most reasonable one: Josh. There's a picture of Josh with the name of My Fren.
Tapping the call button, I'm surprised when Josh actually picks up.
"Hello?" A groggy voice says.
"Josh!?" I say almost too frantically.
"Tyler!? Oh my gosh! What happened to your voice!?"
I huff. "This is Jenna."
"Oh, hi Jenna! Why are you calling at"—he pauses as if he's looking at the time—"two-thirty in the morning? I-Is Tyler giving you trouble?"
I completely lose it. "He's passed out in the middle of the woods!" I say in a panic.
Josh sharply inhales. "Oh crap. He must've had one of his panic attacks. I'll be right over. Where are you at in the woods?"
"Do you know where the treehouse is?"
"Yeah yeah yeah. I'll be right over. Just keep an eye on him."
"Okay," I say, trying to take calming breaths. Let's hope Josh doesn't live that far away.

* * *
Josh finds me within ten minutes of me shining my flashlight in different directions through the trees. He kneels down across from me, Tyler between us.
"Why didn't he just call me?" he mutters, tugging at his hair in worry. He meets my gaze. "You did the right thing by calling me. I've had to help him with these a lot. He's only passed out once before, though."
"So what do we do?" I ask.
"We're going to sit him up against this nearby tree." He nods to a tree behind me. "Grab his ukulele and phone."
Josh lifts Tyler into his arms as I take his phone and instrument. He leans the small, brown haired boy against the tree.
"What do we do now?" I pry, my nerves igniting.
Josh sighs. "About the only thing we can do. Wait."

•Tyler•

Hands cup my face before I even open my eyes.
"Tyler? Tyler!?" Her voice sounds like she's underwater, but I still know it's her.
My eyes open a crack. "Jenna...why are you here?"
She grabs my hand. "Tyler! I was so worried! Why wouldn't I be here!?"
"I'm here, too." Josh suddenly pops into my vision.
My eyes widen to be the size of the moon. "You didn't have to call him!"
"What else could I have done?" Jenna says.
"How did you even get his number?"
"I never hung up, so your phone wasn't locked. I found his contact."
"What time is it?"
"About three o'clock," Josh says after checking his phone.
"What happened?" Jenna says.
"I...." I trail off. "I had a panic attack."
"Dude, I told you to call me when you got those," Josh frets.
"I didn't want to wake you," I say sheepishly.
"What was the screaming about?" Jenna inquires.
"I was...singing."
"You were screaming."
"I was just trying to get the voices out of my head." With Jenna's look, I know I have said the wrong thing. Josh's eyes meet mine, both of ours widening.
"Uh....Jenna, could I talk to you in the treehouse?" I ask. My stomach twists in knots.
"Yeah, sure," she says.
   She follows me up the ladder to my childhood getaway. I sit against a side wall with my knees pulled against my chest. Jenna sits across from me, her legs Indian style.
   "How did you hear me screaming?" I ask softly.
   "I couldn't sleep. I was sitting on my back porch when I heard faint yelling. You were the only person I could think of that would be in the woods. Now"—she leans forward—"What did you say about voices?"
   I take a deep breath. "As you may know, I struggle with depression. And insomnia. A-And anxiety. Probably some other stuff, too."
   Jenna nods. "Go on."
   Butterflies are swarming through my stomach by now, and I'm trembling. "Well, sometimes in the early morning, I come here to write or play music when I can't sleep. Music makes things hurt less."
   "So you were playing music this morning?"
   I nod. "I couldn't sleep. Thoughts and voices were crowding my head."
   "What were those thoughts and voices?" Jenna's face looks so gentle. I'd hate for it to change by the time we're done with this conversation.
    "Um...they were about you." Her face remains the same. "C-can I ask you a question?"
   "Of course," Jenna says softly.
   "Did you....did you agree to go out with me out of pity?"
   Her brows furrow. "Of course not! What made you think that!?
"The voices."
  "...What did they tell you?"
Don't listen to her. She's using you. She's going to tell all of her friends that you're a freak the moment you turn your back.
  "Shut up!" I yell. Jenna's eyes widen. "No," I say frantically. "Not you. It's him." I point to my temple. "The voices....they told me that you just feel sorry for me. They also told me that I'm too broken for a relationship. They're asking me why I'm alive if no one will love me. They're begging me not to tell you this, but I'm not listening to that comment. I couldn't sleep because I was worried about our date later today, which you probably don't want to go on anymore but that's okay. I understand." I hang my head and wrap my arms around my legs, which are still pressed against my chest. My trembling increases.
   "Tyler"—Jenna's gaze softens—"why in the world do you listen to them? They're filling your head with lies!"
  "I know, but I don't know how to stop it. I feel weak."
  "That's what the voices are trying to make you feel. Please try not to listen to them."
  I nod and gulp. "I'll try."
  She scoots over to my side and wraps her arms around me. "Please, be stronger. For me. I know you can do it. Don't let the voices control you."
  I lean into her embrace, my trembling starting to cease. "I will."
  "You should go home and get what sleep you can," Jenna murmurs.
  I hit a blunt. "Why?"
  She suddenly slugs my side. "I don't want you being tired on our date, dummy!" She uses a playful tone.
  "You mean...you still want to go out with me?"
  "Of course!"
  I smile. My day just got a little brighter.