I just wanted to be sure to not make you uncomfortable! Can i request an oneshot with connor and his s.o self harming/having depression? If you dont want to so it it's fine with me either!! 🥀
Pairing: Connor RK800 x GN Reader
A/N: Thank you for asking beforehand! it’s been a hot minute since I wrote for my boy, also a quick reminder: requests are open!
I didn’t write the self-harming part because I’m not very comfortable with that. The portrayal of depression here is based on my personal experience since you did not specify a scenario. It does not represent everyone’s experiences.
Warnings: Depression, minor?? panic attack, overall it just has sensitive subjects,,, please don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable
Connor wasn’t ever designed for this. He wasn’t created to show any empathy or sympathy, he wasn’t made to bring anyone comfort.
Yet here he was, in a dim room with a very, very distraught human. You, to be exact. You were sobbing, your hands covered your face as tears continued to wet your face. He didn’t expect this to happen when he chose to visit you after you didn’t show up at work for a few days.
He had known you for about half a year now. You were one of the few people at the precinct to welcome when he first joined as a machine. You only grew closer and closer after that, with you and Hank helping him realize he is deviant and guide through the mess that was humanity and emotions. He… liked being around you.
He was admittedly worried, you acted different prior to today. Your usual cheery self had gradually morphed into a quiet, distant one. You didn’t laugh at Gavin’s attempts to make you chuckle, you didn’t smile while greeting him, you didn’t even pet Sumo when Hank brought him to the precinct. You’d fall behind on work, barely eat and quick diagnoses showed that your stress level was constantly high.
Something was wrong, and he needed to make sure you were alright. He’d seen patterns similar to yours in Hank before and he didn’t want to even think about things escalating that far.
“I’m fine, you shouldn’t worry about me.”
Your words lacked sincerity as your neglected appearance contrasted them. The dark circles around your eyes got heavier, your hair looked as if it was left uncared for, you were severally dehydrated and probably hadn’t eaten a sufficient meal in a while. You didn’t like it when he questioned you on it.
“I said I’m fine, just been too lazy to cook anything.”
In retrospect, he should’ve given you the space you needed. He should’ve known persisting on the matter would only cause your stress to get worse. But he didn’t, he just wanted to help. He cared for you too much, he couldn’t handle it if something had happened to you.
Your burst was justified, but he truly did not know how to react to it.
“God, do you think that’s all that life is? You will just go around scan whatever you like and give back some diagnostic that nobody asked for? Are you just a fucking machine, Connor?”
You immediately froze after saying that, your breathing was heavy, and tears started to trickle down your face. Connor didn’t know what to say. Just a machine. He was acting like a machine. Your words stung but he pushed that aside.
“Fuck… I’m so sorry I didn’t – I didn’t –”
A sob interrupted your apology and you moved your hands to cover your face again. Your body slowly descended, and you sat on the floor. Connor could feel his own stress level increase as he stood upon your shaky form, not knowing what he is supposed to do. The storm overrunning his mind was kept at bay, though. Showing you that he too was afraid would not make things better.
Your breathing started quickening and getting heavier when you finally faced him. A quick scan showed that your heart was racing abnormally. Contemplations filled his mind, should he call an ambulance?
He moved closer to you but stopped when you immediately moved back, “Don’t, don’t come close.” You stammered in a trembling voice.
“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. Uh - what do you need? What can I do?”
You shook your head,” I dunno, fuck-” your choked voice only got croaker as you tried to speak, “It’s okay… just, just focus on your breathing.” Connor was only doing what he felt might help you and getting your breathing to stabilize became his current objective.
“…trying,” you closed your eyes and Connor continued to stare at you as you struggled. “water, need water.”
He nodded and got up. With hurried footsteps, he went into your kitchen and brought you a glass of water. He came back to you and stood still for a second. Should he get closer? Should he help you drink it?
“Con. Help.” That was his cue. He kneeled next to you and held the glass to your lips. You drank it steadily, as much as you could. The glass was lowered, and he was ready to back off, to give you your space. But you reached out to him and held his hand. He could feel the pressure of it as you squeezed it tightly.
The pattern of your breathing started to follow a consistent pattern after that and as time went on your trembles began to decline but you still shuddered.
Carrying you to bed was an easy task. He’d done so as per your dizzy self’s request and helped you lay down and made sure you were adequately hydrated.
He glanced over you and saw how drained you looked. The idea of you, the one he cared about so much, being so broken hurt him. He wanted to ask, to know how long you’d suffered in silence without him noticing a thing. He wanted to know how to help.
Now wasn’t the time, though.
“You shouldn’t waste your time here.” Your croaky voice snapped him out of his train of thoughts. “You can go Connor; I will be fine.”
“Can I stay? I want to be with you.” he pleaded.
Your vision once fixated on the wall now focused on him, hollowness seeped through your eyes, a sharp contrast to how they looked the first time he met you.
“Please. Please, don’t push me away.”
You blinked and bit your dry lip. After thinking for a few minutes, you said, “Okay. Okay, you can stay.”
The following day he’d made you breakfast, or at least tried. The food looked nice since he’d followed an online tutorial, but he wasn’t sure about the taste.
You didn’t look happy nor sad about him cooking for you but barely ate half of what he made.
“Fucking hell.” You said under your breath, he didn’t know if it was because of what he made or because of how physically and mentally tired you look.
Last night wasn’t mentioned. He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t bring it up, so he thought you didn’t want to talk about it.
“Thanks.” You said suddenly after you finished eating, “For, for looking out for me, I mean.”
He nodded, “You don’t have to thank me. I only wanted to make sure you were okay, I’m sorry for pressuring you.”
He had done his research as you begrudgingly slept, understood that what happened to you was known as a panic attack. He’d delved deeper into it to understand what caused the shift in your personality, but he still was not a licensed therapist or the kind of android made for that purpose and thus he didn’t want to make assumptions.
You scoffed, “No, it was my fault. I… usually get snappy when this happens. I still shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry. Just don’t scan me all the time, okay?” “Okay.”
He tilted his head after a while, “Is it okay if I ask you a personal question?”
“Has this happened before?”
You froze. “Does it matter?”
The way you spoke was rather deadpan, “Well, yes. But if you don’t wish to talk about it, it’s fine.”
“I’d like that. I don’t… I’m not ready to talk about it.”
Connor put his hand on yours and rubbed it, “It’s okay.”
Day by day he’d try to show you that he appreciated you. That he did not see you as a burden. That you mattered to him. It was hard, your self-doubt and lack of any sense of personal worth created a wall that he had to carefully try to breakdown. He did want to advise you to seek professional help, but you seemed defensive when he suggested it the first time.
You started showing up to work again after a while, you still did not show much passion for it and looked incredibly uncomfortable when someone would question you about it. So, he’d try his best to push people off your back, as awkward as it was.
Rain was pouring outside. Connor could hear splashes and vehicles passing by every second. It was rather peaceful. Your head rested on his thigh as he hummed a tune he recalled hearing you sing a few months ago.
Your question made him pause, you sounded almost… empty. Devoid of any actual emotion like someone who was internally defeated.
“I kept denying it for so long. Kept telling myself that today was just a bad day, tomorrow will be better,” you let out an unsteady breath, “But it never did. Everything became so… joyless? I couldn’t enjoy things, couldn’t enjoy work, couldn’t enjoy any shows, couldn’t enjoy speaking to anyone.”
Connor slowly realized that you were opening up to him, so he listened thoroughly and stayed quiet.
“Things only got worse. I didn’t have it in me to do anything anymore. I didn’t keep up with work, didn’t clean my apartment, didn’t cook, didn’t eat, didn’t do anything. I felt gross.”
You sniffled and lifted your head, “I didn’t want to bother anyone with it. Thought It would go away, that nobody deserved to be forced to help someone like me. didn’t want them to see me any differently.”
“I am just so fuckin’ tired, ya know? It’s like I am running in a circle. I’m tired of being so worthless. I’m tired, Con. I just want it to stop.”
You looked down at your lap while Connor started to comprehend what you were saying. His LED spun and circled until it settled on yellow. “This does not make me view you any differently. You are still the person who helped me when I deviated,”
He held your hand and you latched on to him, letting out soft whimpers as he rubbed your back. “I might not completely understand what you are going through, but I still care about you and I want to help.”
“But I am not the crucial help you need.” You stopped crying into his chest and looked up at him in confusion. “I know you think it might be useless but please consider attending therapy. I will tag along if it will make it more comfortable for you.”
You stayed quiet, this time actually considering what he offered. “what if they didn’t care?”
“Then we will look for the right person. Together.”
You bit your lower lip and hesitantly nodded, “You will be with me, Con?” your fingers intertwined, and he pressed his forehead against yours.
“Yes. Every step of the way.”
