Les I'm Miserable
Original Imagine: Grief stricken. 2:30 in the morning. I needed some Chris Evans Help. I'm not totally happy with how this ended. It just kinda poured out. Ugh.
Reader Gender: Plus Size Female
Word Count: 2,490. I know.
Author: Contrygal7
Warnings: Sad!Reader; fluff. Sadness.
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"No Chris, I promise. I'm fine. Nothing is really happening here anyway." I smiled sadly though my heart was currently falling through my chest.
His happy, carefree voice came though the receiver I was clutching hard in my hand "I wish I was there with you. I promise I'll be home soon, okay?"
The words left my mouth without thought "Okay baby. Take your time. I'm fine. I promise."
"I love you sweetheart. I'll see you soon." His voice carried though shortly before he hung up leaving me once again to our dark apartment.
The curtains were drawn in the living area, the bedroom lain untouched since your live in boyfriend of eight months left a week and a half ago.
Desecrated tissues lay gently peppered all over the room, the dehumidifier in the corner the only sound in the room.
. . . Besides the soul wrenching sobs leaving my chest.
I can feel it. The darkness slowly creeping up though my chest. Each heart beat hollowing into the next, I can hear it in my ears. It's the only thing I hear.
Insomnia.
Each day fades gently into the next, I can't sleep at night. Hell I can't sleep during the day either.
The pressure deep in my chest. It constricts around my heart, squeezing tightly, not showing any signs of letting up any time soon.
Pain in my chest during the day. Crying at all times, fits of rage in-between those.
I'm angry. I'm sad. I can feel my life slowly wasting away to nothing.
I'm a sad, angry, fat blob that no one could possibly want.
I haven't left the house in about a week. Haven't taken a bath in about that long. All I do is eat, cry, drink more water, and sleep.
She was everything to me.
She was like the grandmother I never had.
I miss her laugh.
I miss her depressed cycle of thoughts.
I miss her fire.
I miss how she made me feel.
No. She was impossible. Never appreciating me or anything I did.
Always praising everyone except me, taking my presence and help for granted.
She slowly chipped away at my soul.
Made me feel crazy.
Made me recluse deeper into myself.
But she listened too. When she could. When she wasn't sad.
We were sad together. It wasn't healthy, but it was mine and hers.
The tears begin to fall from my eyes once more, the pressure pulling my limbs impossibly close, making me assume the only position that seems to help the gut-wrenching sobs slow.
I couldn't stop the sobs as the key in the front door turned the lock, I couldn't even hear it.
I didn't hear him until his wide shoulders were filling the door frame in front of me, I didn't hear him till his voice was half broken. I didn't hear his soft voice until it was too late, he was whispering my name with the softest most understanding tone i'd ever heard in my life "(Y/N)?"
I shook my head, wiping angrily at the tears streaming down my face, the vulnerability so blatantly pasted there.
I cleared my throat, put on my brave face and my fake smile "Hey baby, when did you get in? I didn't hear you." And like so many other times in the past as soon as I thought it, the tears in my eyes stopped. Everything did. I stopped breathing.
A breathless, humorless chuckle left his throat as he took his shirt off quickly, without a single word. My head spun. This is what I'd been waiting for. This moment right here.
His body moved with slow deliberate actions, pulling each shoe off. Before climbing gently on the sofa.
His hands found mine squeezing gently before falling to the bottom hem of my disgusting old, too big t-shirt. In this moment I stopped fighting it. I didn't have the strength to fight it.
His hands made quick work pulling my shirt over my head, helping my limp limbs when I couldn't lift them on my own.
He pulled my body back flush against his, holding my frame closely to his own. One arm protectively draped around my shoulders, resting his palm down above my heart.
The contact startled me.
I pushed back against him, pushing his frame away from my own "No. No, get off me." Before covering my mostly naked body with the shirt he had just so carefully removed.
The tears began to fall once more down my face. I shook my head, willing the bad thoughts out of my head "Just go. I know you want too. Just leave. I can't handle all this, as well as you. I just can't. Just. . . . Just go."
I couldn't deal with my crazy rambling of self hating thoughts AND him being Mr. Perfect. I was angry. I was sad. I was devastated. And nothing mattered at that moment more than making every other aspect of my life as devastating as this moment.
His words were quick, the complete understanding plastered across his perfect face "What? Baby, what's going on? Talk to me."
I shook my head, my emotions still so raw, not wanting to feel so much so hard, "I . . . I can't. Please."
He went to move closer, causing me to move even further away, his words were soft and raw "Don't do this."
Those three words cut deep into my head, past all the walls I'd build over so many years. . .
Maybe he's different.
I shook my head, defeated before my hands cupped my face hiding the tears falling from my eyes.
He won't hurt me. He's not like the others.
One hand gripped my face with a force only reserved and executed on yourself, the angry red trails from the pressure instantly materializing down my check.
He loves you.
My head moved in violent jagged motions to each side, trying desperately to fight the logic and hope in my head. Knowing deep in my soul what I knew, then I felt it. The darkness closing in. . .
He feels sorry for you.
New red hot tears streamed from your eyes as your body heaved with the new sobs tearing from your chest.
He doesn't love you. How could he?
You felt it. The almost black pain that always followed this line of logic, even through your hours among hours of work towards yourself, it didn't matter. The darkness always found a way.
He's just like the others. It's all one big joke. You're one big joke.
Always found a way to break your soul within seconds. Causing you to disassemble every wall you'd so carefully built around yourself. All the time, attention, and understanding, dissolved. Within a moment of sadness.
Give up. You know you want to.
His arms were around me within seconds. Stroking my hair gently and pulling my body flush against his once more "Let me in sweetheart."
Red hot anger seethed though my pores, every bad thought toward the male sex came pouring out of my mouth like a hurricane. I didn't stop it, didn't try too. In this moment I didn't care about anything. If I was going out, I was going out in a blaze of goddamn glory.
"Is this what you wanted? For me to break so you could put my poor little soul back together? So you could be the hero. Instead of just playing one."
His mouth hung open. Never had this type of unstoppable anger been targeted at him. I felt a twinge of regret but my mouth remained moving. Efficiently slicing any change of him loving me ever again.
"It must be exhausting. All that acting all the time. What was I? The biggest job of your life? Because if you could love a fat, money-less, desperate, nobody like me you could play any part they threw at you. Well, congratulations. You did it. You're the perfect man. You made me feel like the only girl in the world. You made me feel love. Now, if you have any decency, please. Just leave me to fall apart in peace."
I'd always heard about the single man tear. I always thought it was some big secret that Hollywood conjured up to make the man feel more vulnerable. More approachable.
This was not that.
I watched as his eyes widen. I watched in disbelief as the bright green of his irises glassed over as the water pooled in his eyes. I watched the first soul wrenching sob tear though his broad shoulders.
I watched in horror as he hit the floor on his knees in front of me as the most perfect man I'd ever known started crying in front of my eyes. I watched as his usual broad strong shoulders turned in and crumble before me.
And while every fiber of my being pulled toward him, to hold him, to comfort him. I wanted to explain that my world was ending and I was just lashing out. To take back every word back.
But my body wouldn't move. Nothing responded. I'd never seen a man break like that before. And the fact that I was a large part of the reason made it so much worse.
Nothing had ever hurt as bad as looking down at his deep green eyes full to the brim with tears as he muttered "(Y/N), I'm not perfect. I'm not even a man. Look at me! I can't even console the love of my life in her time of need."
He didn't make any effort to reach out to me. He just muttered quietly to himself "Your sister called. She was worried, and wanted me to check on you. And she knew that you weren't going to tell me. So I called to tell you I was on a plane home. But you seemed fine. But I got on the plane anyway. I didn't want you to be alone."
His eyes were looking at the wall ahead of him. I saw the pain and hurt in his eyes as he continued ". . . I heard your sobbing from the kitchen. And even though part of me died as I walked though the door. . . I was happy. I actually thought that you might need me. That you might want me here with you."
His shoulders shrugged, like he was saying that he'd forgotten his keys instead of muttering the words that i'd been waiting our entire relationship for him to say. Hell, my entire life for someone to say.
His eyes looked as lost and confused as mine as he looked up at me "I know now, that you don't need me, and that you may not love me the way I love you."
His hands reach out in front of him, trying impossibly to get me to understand "But, you're not a job. This isn't some big joke. You're not on candid camera. This is me and you. And I feel the same right now, as I did that first moment I saw you."
His smile was softer now, his head tilted slightly to the side "I don't see you as a charity case. I spend money on you because I love you." A slight smirk on his face at my expression, "Because I want to provide for you. Because I want to take care of you."
"I don't see you as desperate, if either of us is desperate its me. I'm desperate for you. For you to be mine forever. And hopefully, one day. . . When your ready." He smiles, his hands pushing the imaginary fears in the air as he continues, "You'll say yes when I ask you to be my wife."
I broke. My heart seemed to flow toward his broken form, I felt like the color yellow. Bright yellow. Sunrise yellow. Like the beginning of a new day, a new year, a new era.
My body fell to the floor in front of him as I shook my head against his hard pecs. Sobbing and drooling, my nose running, my hair oily and matted from not showering in a week, my eyes hollowed and bloodshot from over crying.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Chris held me and I held Chris as we cried until we couldn't cry anymore.
When my tears began to slow, and my body stopped shaking he took me in his arms. His voice was soft and raw, mirroring my own, "I know you're just lashing out. I know that your hurting right now. Just let me take care of you."
He didn't wait for a response. He just carried my limp body against his soft embrace slowly to the bathroom.
He sat me on my feet, his hand soft against my hip, keeping me steady in a way I just couldn't right now. He turned the shower on, steam filling and clinging to the cool surfaces.
He pulled me back into his chest as he walked me backwards under the warm water. I clung hard to his chest, not being able to breathe or think anymore outside of my own grief.
Still half dressed, he held your body upright against the heavy droplets of water. In this moment nothing could have felt better. The water seemed to wash away every ounce of sadness that was inside of you, and Chris' strong arms encircling you brought you a strength you didn't even know was possible.
Right there, soaking wet and vulnerable, you knew everything just might be okay someday. The long time depending doom was alleviated if only for a moment, and you felt free.
Euphoric, you turned gently in his strong embrace. Your voice was small, apologetic as you asked something you'd never asked anyone else to do "Can you. . . "
Before you'd finished his lips were on yours, silencing you "Shhhh. You don't have to ask. I got it."
You spent the rest of the week being waited on. Chris seemed to fall easily into his new role as your caregiver. He actually rather enjoyed waiting on you hand and foot. Needless to say, you didn't enjoy it, but you did enjoy it when he washed your hair.
The two of you spent the rest of the month just living day to day. Chris spent it combating your random emotions and you spent it mainly regretting the things your emotions made you say.
But about six months later he surprised you with another life altering disaster.
One night, after a particularly emotion-filled day, he asked you to marry him.
And he waited the whole thirty seconds for you to say yes.