#rook419

Imagine: You're friend with Colson and JP, and while he's doing a live, Colson films you teaching JP how to play the guitar, and since you're a rockstar, all your and their fans combines start tweeting about you

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@s4ilor-m4rs I'm sorry it took me so long to get to it :) I hope you like it, if there is anything you want me to change let me know :)

Summary: Reader has anxiety and her nervous “tick” is picking at her nails. While she’s visiting him on tour, Rook notices one particularly bad day and helps the reader.

Authors Note: This is in no way meant to romanticize anxiety. I have it and know many that do, and it's nice to see stuff written about the ugly sides of it and not just the “oh my god he would hold you while you’re crying!”, overwritten, and often uneducated side of things.

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Anxiety. The bitch. It hit unexpectedly and, if you weren’t crying or hyperventilating, then the panic attacks could be unnoticeable. Sometimes yours hit where you would heavily disassociate, other times it would be extreme irritability for a couple minutes until you were out of the situation causing you stress. A couple close people, meaning your boyfriend, your close friends, and his close friends, knew the signs of your anxiety flare-ups and were usually able to help.

Today was one of the days where you couldn’t bring yourself to reach out to them, though. You felt like you were annoying them. It was break at school, so all of your friends were either out or at work, and you were on a tour bus on the other side of the world anyway. Your boyfriend, JP, was rehearsing along with the rest of Kells crew, and you decided to stay behind on the bus. You had isolated yourself once again, but in the moment, the only thing you were thinking was that you weren’t annoying anyone.

You didn’t realize just how bad your anxiety that day had gotten until you were washing your hands after going to the bathroom and full the dull throb of your nails being too short and the skin beneath them feeling irritated. You looked down and saw the multiple hangnails and the too-short nails that now adored your hands and it only made you feel worse.

Walking back to Rook’s bunk, you buried yourself in the covers and, instead of picking at your nails, went to trying to bite away all of your hangnails. You were so drowned in your own thoughts, it almost scared you when you heard the curtain to the bunk open and saw the light flood in.

“Baby, are you okay?” Rook asked though both of you knew the answer. Just because you weren’t having a panic attack, doesn’t mean your anxiety wasn’t eating you alive.

“I don’t know.” You replied. You didn’t want to be outright and admit you needed help, but you knew he knew.

“Come here.” He said, holding out a hand for you to take and gently helping you out of his bunk.

“Where are we going?” You asked, not dressed in the slightest to go anywhere besides the sofa and bed.

“Just a little run.” Rook replied, taking the hair tie off your wrist and gently tying your hair up for you.

There were some perks in being only 5’2, it meant your 5’5 boyfriend was still taller than you and could still do little things that most people wouldn’t think twice of doing.

“Babe. I look a mess, I don’t want to go anywhere. What if someone sees us? All of Kells’ fans know we’re here today, I look terrible, and they’re just going to make fun of me.” You ranted out, all at once.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.” He said, kissing your forehead. The small action helped soothe you a little bit, but you were still jittery.

“Fine.” You agreed reluctantly.

“Thank you.” The smile he flashed your way would cause anyone with sight’s heart to stop and you were no exception. The way his tattoos framed his jawline and the row of perfect teeth made your knees weak and you found yourself following him out of the bus and down the street.

He made sure to follow a couple backstreets and walked you inside of a CVS, guiding you down a couple different aisles before dropping your hand.

“Go find your favorite candy and whatever wine they have here you think might not give us alcohol poisoning.” He told you, covering your face in little kisses, causing you to giggle.

“What are you up to?” You asked, but were met with silence and him waving his hands in the opposite direction he was walking.

You let out a groan but walked off, grabbing the party sized bag of your favorite candy and walked over to the wine section, grabbing two bottles that looked as good as pharmacy wine could get. You meet him at the checkout counter and set your two items down, watching as he checked out and grabbed the bags.

He guided you back to the bus, neither of you talking that much. He knew when your anxiety was this bad, sometimes the best he could do was just let you be quiet and just hold your hand.

“Can I please know what’s going on?” You asked. He sat down on the couch and you let him pull you down in front of him.

“After the show tonight, the guys are going out to party,” he started, while shuffling through one of the bags, “you and I are going to stay in and eat junk food and get wine drunk off of cheap wine.”

“No, you’re going to go out tonight. You deserve to be able to party with your friends, not have to stay home with your girlfriend because she can’t handle social interaction today.” You argued. He simply shook his head, tore open the wrapping on one of the small packages and took my hand in his.

“I’m fine. I can party any day of the week, but you’re my girl and I’m supposed to be here for you, so that’s what I’m doing.” The tone in his voice didn’t leave room for argument and I looked down and finally realized what he was doing.

They were in no way perfect, but you didn’t care, because the thought of what he was trying to do was enough to make you fight back tears. He had a nail file gently smoothing out the rough edges of your nails, then took a pair of cuticle nippers and, without hurting you, began cutting away at the skin hanging off. Next, he took out a tiny bottle of clear polish and applied it over your nails, blowing on them for a couple seconds before letting my hands fall.

“I love you, so much.” You whispered out, crawling onto his lap and burying your head into the crook of his neck, relaxing under him when you felt his arms wrap around you.

“I love you, too, baby girl. Now, how about we get ready for the show, then we can come back and watch 80’s movies afterward while eating like shit and drinking the cheapest fucking wine there is?” He asked, trailing light kisses up and down your neck.

“That sounds perfect.” You replied, kissing his forehead and crawling off of his lap.