depressive episodes are not always sudden, inexplicable outbursts or downwards spirals that begin and end in a screaming, hysteric mess. in fact, you’d say they are very rarely ever like that, despite what many around you think. for you, they began slow -- your depression would trickle in so slowly that you almost wouldn’t notice the color bleeding out of things around you, or your interest slowly waning. it would eat away at your passion and your attention span and even your energy, until one morning you woke up and realized you didn’t much care for opening your eyes or breathing or eating or doing much of anything. maybe you were so exhausted from constantly ignoring the feelings brewing at the back of your mind or repressing everything until you couldn’t tell up from down, but you tried not to think about it -- maybe that was the problem.
and, normally, it would take days to get out of such a funk. sometimes, you felt as if you never really did get out of them, but simply got used to them enough to function as normally as you could.
this past week, though, has been one of the worst ones you’ve experienced yet. you were lucky you were on break, because you weren’t sure you’d be able to gather up enough energy to even show up for class, nevermind do the work. or, perhaps you weren’t lucky -- maybe actually having something you were obligated to do would motivate you to get out of bed, but instead you were left with nothing to do but sleep. and, sleep you did, until time became something in the abstract and you couldn’t tell what day it was.
if there is anything you are truly lucky for, it is kim taehyung. taehyung, who you texted nearly everyday, who always took time out of his busy schedule to visit you when you were feeling especially lonely, and who made you feel like you weren’t just another body wasting space and air and time. taehyung, who came to know your schedule like clockwork, who made sure you ate healthy, home-cooked meals, and who made sure he was never the one to cook them. taehyung, who was probably the first friend in a very long time who didn’t seem to mind your ups and downs, no matter how drastic they were. taehyung, who showed up at your apartment sometime during the week ( you still weren’t sure what day it was ) after you stopped replying to his texts, and decided if you weren’t going to help yourself then he’d do it for you.
taehyung, who currently had his fingers root deep in your hair, the only thing between his skin and your scalp being the thick lathering of shampoo he’d rubbed all over his palms.
the scent of your favorite shampoo was almost refreshing after a long week without it, and you could nearly feel the weight being lifted off your head with each passing of his fingers through your greased up locks. if he noticed just how greasy or if any unpleasant smell had decided to stick to you, he didn’t mention it -- you were glad for that much, at least. and, although you’d find such a task laborious and tedious, he seemed to be enjoying it if his contented humming was anything to go by.
the situation was strange, but it wasn’t because of the thin layer of bubbles covering the expanse of your naked skin, or even the fact that he was helping you bathe -- no, it was strange, because no one had ever taken the time to do something so seemingly small and insignificant for you before. sure, you’d been told to take care of yourself, to love yourself a little more, but the encouragements and supports rarely ever went past words.
and, while you were more than aware of the budding feelings between you and him, you’d never suspected his to be so tender. a passing fancy, maybe, or something as simple as lust, but nothing even close to this.
❝ tae? ❞
a break in the tune he’d been humming to is your response as he grunts in acknowledgement, his fingers tracing along the backs of your ears and down the nape of your neck, his touch trailing after stray soapy bubbles.
❝ why are you doing this? ❞
he doesn’t answer right away, instead opting to pour warm water over your head to wash the soap away, laughing lightly when you splutter in surprise.
❝ because, ❞ he starts, just as you feel the pressure of his hand against the skin of your back and the heat of the washcloth held between your skins. ❝ i care about you. ❞
the singer’s words are spoken true as he lathers slow, comforting circles into your flesh and seemingly rubs away the weight that had been crushing you the entirety of the week along with all the grime, guck and dirt that had collected beneath it. it’s in the way he brushes your hair to the side once he reaches your neck, the way his fingers roll over the curve of your shoulder and the way his fingertips slide just above the fabric of the cloth just to feel you.
a small part of you is convinced he’s only being as overlyfriendly as he always is, that this doesn’t mean nearly as much as you believe it does, and that every little thing you’re reading into will be riddled with disappointment later. so, you ask: ❝ yeah, but why? ❞
❝ why? ❞ taehyung parrots, as if just as perplexed as you. ❝ why wouldn’t i? ❞
❝ because, i’m not worth wasting your time over? you’ve gotta have something more important to be doing, right? but, here you are, washing my hair -- something i should be able to do on my own. ❞
❝ there’s nothing i’d rather be doing right now, ❞ comes his quick reply, just as more warm water runs down your figure and you feel more of that weight trickling off of you. ❝ and, just because you should be able to do it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. i’d actually like it if you relied on me a little more. ❞
taehyung -- always far too honest and open and loving -- leaves you with a retort on the tip of your tongue, unable to truly voice it with the way the pads of his fingers feel digging into your tired muscles. he slowly has you falling into the motions of it, your body causing the littlest ripples to bounce back and forth between the walls of the tub as he nudges and relaxes and soothes all of your aches at once -- even those he can’t touch with his hands. his presence has always had a way of doing that, like he could bend and twist the atmosphere to his will and play it like a deck of cards, and for all that power you’d only ever seen him use it for instances like this.
and, although he’s still right there, still touching you, you are suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he’ll be gone soon enough. you were aware of this fact, knew it from the beginning, but somehow it hadn’t quite hit you with all of its reality until just then -- the feeling is harrowing, like the air has already gone stale from the lack of his presence and the loneliness is taking his place. this revelation and the combination of his gentle touch and subtle humming twists tightly in your chest and causes your breath to hiccup, and for the first time during this episode you actually feel the sorrow, the desperation, the raw and unadulterated fear that comes with being alone with your thoughts. it’s absolutely suffocating, unbearable pain that murmurs beneath his caring hands and nestles deep into your chest. you try to stifle it, ignore it, but the best you can do is take in a shaky breath and pray he doesn’t hear the little whimper in the back of your throat.
of course, he does.
❝ y/n? ❞ he questions, pausing his ministrations and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s looking at with those wide, intrigue-filled eyes and parted lips. ❝ are you okay? ❞
the best answer you can give is a weak shake of your head, still refusing to look at him as you feel warmth bloom behind your eyes and tears begin to blur your vision.
❝ what is it? what’s wrong? ❞
at first, all you can do is sniffle and swallow your cries, watching as your vision clears and you feel that warmth trickling down your cheeks in steady, messy lines. eventually, though, you manage to say at least this: ❝ i don’t want you to go. ❞
it’s a selfish request -- surely he has things to be doing, business that needs to be taken care of, a life to live -- and you know it, but you can’t help it from slipping out of your mouth, thick with tears and desperation. the guilt that quickly follows should’ve plugged up your throat and made it impossible to continue, but somehow that simple confession leads to everything else tumbling out right after it.
❝ i can’t keep -- i can’t keep dealing with this on my own, ❞ you say, your voice eerily calm despite the shake of it, or how fogged your words sound rolling off your tongue in clumsy, broken sentences. ❝ i can’t even get out of bed by myself, or convince myself to eat, or do this. and, all i ever hear is all these empty promises that ‘ it’ll get better, ’ but it never does and nobody seems to actually care that i’m -- that i’m wasting away like this. it’s like i’m stuck in this endless cycle and it doesn’t matter how much i try or how much i smile and convince myself i’m happy, i just -- i can’t get out. and, i try so hard... ❞
your own words bring more tears to your eyes, as if actually you’re actually acknowledging them for the first time. it aches, how empty they leave you, but you can’t stop yourself now that you’ve started.
❝ no one has ever... done what you do, for me. they try, but nobody can deal with my constant lows for very long -- they get tired of me, of this. i guess i can’t really blame them, ❞ a humorless chuckle leaves your lips at that, before you continue. ❝ it sounds stupid and selfish, but i don’t want you to leave, too. that’s why i don’t rely on you like you want me to -- it’ll get to be too much, eventually. i’m too much. ❞
taehyung doesn’t reply right away, and you’re too terrified to look up and gauge his reaction, so when the tips of his fingers tickle your palm as they dip into the bath water, you jump -- still, you allow him to slide his fingers between yours, closing your palms together in a slippery hold.
❝ it doesn’t sound stupid, ❞ he finally says, voice low and gentle as he squeezes your fingers between his. ❝ maybe it’s selfish, but so am i. ❞
finally, finally, you look up at him and the softest smile graces his lips when you meet his eyes. ❝ what do you mean? ❞
❝ i mean that my biggest fear is losing the people closest to me, the people i really care about. i’ve lost a lot of people physically, but i’ve also lost a lot emotionally, too. i think that’s harder to deal with, knowing they’re there, but not being able to reach them the way you want to... i get afraid, sometimes, that i’m losing you that way. ❞
as he leans forward and rests his chin in the palm of his free hand, elbow precariously balanced on the side of the tub, you try to search his eyes in order to decipher the words he speaks -- they’re blatant, very plain, but you still feel as if you’re missing something.
❝ i thought maybe it would be annoying, the way i shove myself into your life and do things like this, but i couldn’t help it, ❞ he admits, his gaze momentarily flickering away from you. ❝ i didn’t want you to leave me, either. i still don’t. ❞
now, it’s his words that bring another influx of tears to your eyes, and this time you don’t even bother trying to hold them back. you cry like you’ve been holding it in for years, like it’s your last line of defense, like it’s all you know how to do -- you cry, even as water splashes up against the side of the tub with the sudden jerk of your body and you’re clinging to taehyung like you might just die otherwise. the water slickening your form soaks into his shirt and forces it to cling to his own skin, but the only thing that registers in his head is that you’re leaning against him, fingers digging into the material of his shirt and he’s able to breathe you in.
❝ i'm sorry, ❞ you cry, though muffled by his shoulder. ❝ i’m so sorry. ❞
he can’t tell what you’re apologizing for -- whether for crying, for the topic at hand, or something else entirely -- but he shushes you regardless. ❝ don’t apologize. you never have to apologize to me -- not for this.
just promise... promise me that you’ll stay with me, so i can stay with you. ❞
despite the fact that you tremble and shake in his hold, taehyung finds himself smiling against your wet hair and squeezing you in a little tighter when he feels you nod and a soft ‘ i promise ’ is mumbled into his shoulder -- even with the wall of the tub inbetween you he feels closer to you somehow, like he’s broken a wall down and has gotten you to lean on him even if only a little bit, just in this moment.
❝ then, i’m staying. i won’t leave unless you ask me to, okay? ❞ it’s a tentative question, as if that nervous part of him still feels the need to give you an out despite it all. ❝ i’m staying. ❞
( and, he does -- he stays with you when you flop back into bed and sleep for another 12 hours. he stays with you when you manage to drag yourself outside and actually get things done the next day. he stays when you grow too fatigued to keep going, and he stays when you cry all over again. he stays, because you stay. )
