𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 summary: depression has always been your mortal nemesis, hitting you when you least expect it. A cycle that Simon understands all to well.
authors note: depression has been kicking my ass recently so again this is self indulgent and for anyone else who’s struggling at the moment - you’re not alone :)
genre: fluff, angst, depression
You started feeling the heaviness on Monday as you walked home from work. It always starts in your chest. The feeling sitting there like a weighted sack of coal. Unwanted, not needed and just … inconvenient. You’ve always struggled with the black dog ever since you were a child, a constant battle with an illness you didn’t ask for, a friend you couldn’t get rid of … a stalker that wouldn’t ever leave you alone. It whispers lies into the folds of your brain, telling you;
“there’s no point in getting up if you’re not going to be happy”
“Why leave the house if all you’re going to feel is the same”
“Don’t text anyone. You’re an inconvenience and they’re happy”
It made itself home in the walls of your skull, coming and going as it pleased, never asking for permission. It was an intruder on your life that you’ve tried too hard to enjoy.
And whenever you felt its onslaught coming, you just let it. Because the more you tried to distract yourself, the more you tried to push it down, the heavier it became.
So you learnt to just… let it.
It’s Friday now and the weight of it has fully imbedded itself onto your chest. Drilling holes into your ribs so wherever you went, so did it.
Consciousness envelops you as your eyes flutter open. Coldness was the first thing you felt, not just figuratively but literally as well, an icy breeze wafting its way through your open window. Winter had just started and you had fallen out of the habit of closing your window before bed - you take a mental note to shut it later. When you can be bothered to.
You didn’t have work today, thankfully. So the day was yours to feel heavy, an inviting thought. Rolling over you grab your phone from your bedside table to check the time.
At least you slept in a fair amount. Usually when depression wracks your life sleep is the last thing you get, leaving you tired and in sleep debt for god knows how long.
The next thing you notice is the abundance of text messages you’ve received ignored over the past week. It wasn’t an overwhelming amount but it was noticeable that you’ve been ignoring them. You scroll through the list of notifications; Mum, Dad, your best friend and Simon.
His name standing out from the rest like gold amongst wood. As always. One from Tuesday, two texts from Wednesday and one from yesterday;
“Text me when you need something.”
“Haven’t heard from you. You alright”
Guilt nags at you — fuck — you should probably respond to him. Heaving a sigh you open his messages, thumbs hovering above the keyboard - unsure of what to say.
“Hi Si, sorry. Not feeling good rn.”
Three dots pop up almost instantly.
“You don’t even know what’s wrong”
Your lips twinge, threatening to break into a grin. That being the closest thing to a smile you’ve had all week as a small bloom of hope bores in your chest. Why you close yourself off from the best thing- best person that has happened to you, you have no idea.
Eyes heavy along with your limbs you pull yourself out of bed, hair a mess. You’d been only brushing your teeth once a day, leaving it till night before bed, a habit you were to break today.
Brushing your teeth along with putting on deodorant, the weight had already began to lift. Not completely nor permanently, but enough for you to keep moving your feet.
The soft scent of coffee wafts throughout your small apartment as you begin brewing what’s been your diet since Tuesday. Another habit you were to break as you open your pantry, grabbing a muesli bar. Something small but simple, even though your appetite is frustratingly still no where to be found.
Picking up the hot mug you walk back into your bedroom, the warm covers calling your name - and once you settle yourself under the blankets, you wait.
Simon hadn’t had the chance to see you at all this week, much of it being due to his work. Days turned into nights and the next thing he knew it was Friday and he hadn’t heard from you since Sunday.
When a day had gone by with no word from you the first thing Simon did was check your location, only to see that you were at work.
The rest of the week consisted of him checking in before looking to see where you were. That either being at work or home, and by Tuesday he knew something was inherently wrong.
Frustration bubbled under his skin at the lack of free time his work was giving him. Not being able to see you was torture but not being able to see you while something was definitely wrong was worse. So as soon as he got a text back from you, leaving base was the first thing he did - discarding the work he was leaving behind. Knocking on Price’s office door he poked his head into the room, leaving little to no time for his Captain to respond when saying — “Gotta go” with a soft clear of his throat “family thing” — he said before closing the door. And Price knew that by ‘family’ Simon meant you - so ordering him to stay would be pointless.
He needn’t bother to knock on your apartment door but rather he unlocked it with the spare key you gave him. Your apartment was as much yours as it was his, even if he wasn’t around nearly enough to call it home. But when he opens to door to an empty sight of the living room and not your beaming smile it feels anything but. A sinking sadness sits in his stomach. This wasn’t like you. Your absence was felt so heavily by Simon this week; the lack of your presence greeting him at the front door was only the cherry on top.
Kicking off his shoes Simon immediately notices the chill in the air. A shiver splays across his spine, his voice gruff when he voices a soft — fuckin’ hell — once noticing the open windows. Taking a mental note to shut them later, Simon makes his way to your bedroom, the heavy thuds of his boots reverberating off the floorboards.
Gently pushing the door open he sees your curled frame, back turned on the bed, blankets encompassing you whole. Your curtains were drawn so the only light source was the soft warm lamp near your bedside. Your room was ladened with dirty clothes strewn across the floor, Simon’s brows upturned slightly at the sight.
His heart only tightening further once he made his way across to your side of the bed. You looked exhausted, eye bags dragging down your face along with paled lips - he felt like he was looking at a ghost.
Your eyes meet his as you look up from your phone, not saying a word but rather you smile weakly up at him. He bends down to your level before dragging the back of his finger across yours.
Words fell flat on his tongue. Simon wasn’t too good at using them, especially when it came to comforting. Even though he was all too familiar with the look that was painted across your face right now, having seen it many times reflected back at him in the mirror.
“S’fuckin’ freezin’ in here dove” his voice low. You huff a small laugh “forgot to shut my windows” you say amongst the many blankets that you have laying on top of you.
Simon’s mouth flickers in a brief smile but says nothing, his finger continuously rubbing yours. Unsure, wondering, worried was everything that he felt all at once. He wanted to help but knew he couldn’t completely take this all away from you, it killed him.
“M’sorry I didn’t text you back” your voice hushed as you bite your lip, brows upturned. Simon shakes his head “it’s fine” his tone matching your softness… as much as he could anyways, he wasn’t necessarily in his element right now. But as you look at each other, eyes interwoven, an understanding was shared that words didn’t need to be used to express “thank you for coming” you say, squeezing his finger.
Simon intertwines his fingers with yours to lift the back of your hand to his lips, murmuring a soft “always” before helping the only way he knew how.
He cleaned your room, picking up the clothes off the floor to chuck them into the laundry, closed your windows and turned on the heater. He then went further to empty your cold coffee only to make you a tea instead. And once you finished he urged you into the shower, helping you as though your ability to look after yourself had been stripped from you completely (although you both knew you could do it yourself). He wanted to, he wanted to do everything that he felt he needed when he had no one to help him. Sticking to your side like stubborn gum underneath a school desk, Simon Riley might’ve not known what to say but he knew what to do.
After changing your sheets (which you insisted were clean but your words fell on deaf ears) Simon helped you back into bed. He knew you were exhausted and tired and even though leaving the house would probably be a good idea, Simon had been tracking your location all week and all you had been doing was leaving the house. So bed was where you were to stay.
And by your own invitation he climbed into bed with you, arms wrapped around your waist, embracing the other’s warmth. Simon knew what you felt because he felt it too. Every day, and god be dammed if you were to feel an ounce of that on your own like he did.
