based on this song, please listen whilst reading.
˚⟡˖ ࣪synopsis After a therapy appointment, you run into a beautiful woman, desperate for love, you pursue the growing romance between you two, it seemed so perfect, too perfect. But what happens when depression succumbs both of you?
˚⟡˖ ࣪content warnings Death, depression, pure angst, small moments of fluff, no happy ending, therapy, antidepressants, suicide, strap on sex, fingering and eating out mentioned, r! Receiving. Men and minors DNI.
˚⟡˖ ࣪authors note sooo i know i said i would release siren sounds but I’ve had this in the drafts that I’ve been wanting to publish for a bit now, and i’ve finally finished it!! This fic really is close to the heart as it relates to issues I’ve struggled with myself over the years, once again, please listen to the song this is based off. As it is the main inspiration behind the entire fic.
— metamorphosis, the 4 stages of life completion transformation. Where the caterpillar's body goes through radical change, reorganising into a butterfly. Which eventually emerges, dries its wings, and flies off to restart the cycle.
The room smelt like cheap sanitiser, not a hospital— god no. You haven’t ended up there in a long time, the smell of the therapy clinic still filled with that stench though, mixed with some rose petal bullshit in the air fresheners.
It was suffocating to say the least. The people across from you all seemingly have different expressions on their face, some looking down at their shoes, on their phones, or watching the tv in the top left corner.
It plays the news, but there’s no volume on the tv. So it’s mostly just reading the tiny subtitles, it would be nice for them to turn it up— maybe then something would fill the silence.
You look out the small window, seeing how nice of a day it is.. the sky is a bright blue, it’s warm, the winter felt like it would never thaw into summer but it did. It always does.
You hear other people get called up to their appointments, you check your phone after each patient enters the borderline empty rooms. Your therapist is a few minutes late, a small pet peeve but it’s not like you’d say anything. She’s there to help you.
Another 10 minutes pass before you’re finally called in, your therapist, Lucy. She’s all smiles, almost like she thinks the world will always be sunshine and rainbows. You know the truth, you know she does too, but it’s her job to be positive.
“Come in” she said softly, opening the door for you and you just pass by without a glance, muttering a small ‘thank you’ before sitting down on the couch.
It’s a beige shade, heart pillows and one specific pillow that just says ‘you can do it.’. You flip that pillow around, that’s the last thing you want to see.
Lucy sits in the seat across from you, ruffling through your papers and documents. You wonder what’s in those notes, if she’s already come up with a conclusion of what’s wrong with you or if she’s still figuring it out.
“So, how have you been?” She asks softly, her notebook now open and her pen hovering just over the page as she looks at you.
“Fine.” You mutter, looking around at all the trinkets you’ve already seen thousands of times before as your hands feel the couch beneath you. Rubbing your fingers over the texture.
She gives you a tilt of her head, a look of her telling you you’re definitely not. “You asked for an emergency appointment, what’s going on?” She asks once more. Scribbling something down.
“I’m not sure, it just feels like— my emotions have been too much.” You whisper, just enough for her to hear.
“What do you mean?” She replied, softer, pushing you for more.
“Like— everyone is going on with their lives, but I can’t even keep up with them. I feel like I’m still a kid.” Your fingers tighten on the couch.
“Well, you’re growing up, you have a job.. still studying..” she lists off, but her words could almost feel condescending even when it’s just trying to point out facts.
You put your head in your hands, almost trying will yourself to go invisible “And I’m good at it, I’m good at my job.. but everything in my head just— isn’t getting easier, I don’t know if it ever will”
She nods her head, her pen strokes audible as they drift across the page, each line feels like a cut.
“I just.. I thought it’d be different by now. I thought I’d stop hating— everything. I thought I’d be more driven, I thought I’d.. be in love.” Your voice gets quieter at the end, it feels humiliating to admit out loud.
“Why does that matter to you? It’ll come eventually but you have to focus on some of the positives too.” Lucy asks, trying to have a small smile on her face to reassure you.
“But it’s just so lonely. I’ve never felt so lonely, I— I’ve never been loved.. never—“ you stop yourself, voice breaking but you carry on.
“What kind of life is that? To never be loved?”
The silence stretches out, and your mind drifts elsewhere, almost dissociating into the mental health posters on the wall.
“Have you tried to maybe put yourself out there?” Lucy breaks the silence, her eyes drifting from the page and then back to you.
“Why not?” Her smile feels like it’s mocking you.
You don’t respond for a beat, and then the words tip out of you like a waterfall. “Because I’m tired of it, tired of being the one having to pursue everything.” You take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.
“I just want to be wanted first.”
She nods at that, not pushing the topic further. “And what did you mean? When it comes to your moods?”
You can almost feel the pained expression crossing your face without even looking in a mirror, moving to fiddle with your fingers.
“The small things just keep setting me off. Like I want the people around me to truly see it— but at the same time, I don’t want them to know.”
Your lip wobbles a little. “I feel guilty, all the time. I just get so angry, so sad. And it makes me the worst person to be around.”
The question you’ve been dreading is Lucy's first response; “have you been taking your meds?”
You stop the fiddling, and instead shift around, crossing your leg over the other, adjusting your position and trying to avoid eye contact.
She writes something down, not the best sign. “You know you wouldn’t be feeling this way if you were on them.”
All you can do is nod, you know you should take them. It’s only been a week but it feels like every part of the whole ‘getting better process’ has been set back. Because of you, your choice.
“I know.” You whisper, of course you know. But you’re also so tired of feeling completely numb.
Lucy started grabbing some papers, the ruffling of each one was the only sound in the room for a moment before you finally opened your mouth.
“Do you think someone would love me like this? This.. unstable, sad version of me?” It sounds vulnerable, and it is a hard question.
Her eyes look up from the stack, meeting your eyes with a glint of hesitation in her eyes. “Well, yes. I think that they can, but it wouldn’t be easy on them, or you.”
It’s not the answer you really hoped for, but it is the most logical one and you can’t deny that.
She makes you fill out some forms, the usual mental health assessment. A questionnaire asking about your emotions, how you’re feeling, if you’re overwhelmed, sad, suicidal.
You always got a high score, and they always remind you of that when they calculate it all together. Like they’re surprised a girl like you could be this sick.
She takes you through some techniques, gives you self soothing handouts, and then distress tolerance skills.
Temperature, intensive exercise, paced breathing, progressive muscle relaxation. TIPP. You know it’s a good skill, something you should pay attention to and read off the worksheet if you really want to get better.
But you’re too out of it, so zoned out and in your own head that you can’t even bring yourself to listen. She’s only here to help you, but is this even something you want anymore?
You move through the motions, and then a small timer goes off indicating the end of the session.
“Before you go, I have to ask.. are you planning to hurt yourself or others?”
It’s a normal question, you’d be surprised at how after every session they have to ask that, usually you’d say no, brushing past it.
It’s not like you want to die, you don’t wanna die, but if you sat in a room alone with yourself for only 10 minutes it would cross your mind.
So this time, you just say:; "I've thought about it, but I don’t have any plans.”
Enough of an answer to feel like someone will listen, but not enough for you to be sent away. Lucy just nods, opening the door for you to leave.
Walking back down the hall you see a new set of people waiting, you wonder if they feel similar to you. If any of them are loved, cared about, wanted. You also wonder what would lead them here, what parts of their life they wish to change or what they’re trying to survive.
You don’t let yourself dwell, giving the receptionist a nod before walking out the door. Unable to turn around, there could’ve been more for you to say, you could’ve actually gotten every thought off your chest but some feel like they need to be kept a secret. Not willing to risk any slight possibility of the words coming true.
When you got in your car to leave you didn’t really process the fact you’re actually driving. You had too much control, at any second you could just swerve off the road, hit a lamp post, and die.
You didn’t, of course. You wouldn’t want to hurt the other innocent drivers on the road, the ones who have places to be, families to go home to, a future.
It’d just be selfish, plus, you don’t want to take the risk that you’d survive.
You pull into a small cafe’s parking lot, the atmosphere seems nice. All pastels and pretty pinks and purples lined up on the walls to make it look like a big cupcake. A little corny, honestly.
But you needed something to eat, having lacked appetite for a few days since you’d started withdrawal.
Your heels click against the pavement as you walk to the front of the cafe, every person you pass b y makes you feel unsafe and you don’t know why.
You push your top up higher, trying to cover more of yourself despite the fact you’re dressed very modestly, you fix your hair knowing that it’s probably too messy. Your mascara smudged a tiny bit from stopping the tears that were about to fall, therapy really did a number on you today.
You pull open the door, almost crashing into a lady and her kid who were coming out, you hurriedly rush to keep the door open for them. They give you a small ‘thank you’ and it makes you feel like.. you did something good.
You make your way up to the counter, checking your phone aimlessly because you don’t want to meet anyone’s eyes right now. Just walk in and walk out.
You tap your foot whilst waiting for your order, the lady who served you was giving you dirty looks. Reminding you that you look really rough.
You had just grabbed your coffee, you turned to walk away and suddenly you crashed right into somebody. A sense of panic overwhelming your senses, the embarrassment making you rethink if you should’ve just said ‘yes!’ When your therapist asked if you wanted to kill yourself.
“I’m so— so sorry!” You start, grabbing a napkin to clean some of the spillage.
Her voice cut through, making you pause your movements to look up at her. She was attractive; really attractive.
“Hey, it’s okay, it happens to the best of us.” She said kindly, softly laughing at your ‘caught-in-headlights’ face.
“Right.. yeah” you say, huffing out a short giggle as you continue to wipe away the coffee, your cheeks tinged pink, both from the beautiful woman staring at you and the fact that everyone in this cafe is probably staring at this mess.
The woman helps out, even wiping the stain on your sleeve despite the fact most of the coffee ended up on her shirt.
You couldn’t let her kind gesture go without being acknowledged, so you grabbed more napkins to wipe her shirt a bit, not even noticing the fact that you’re very close to her chest.
She laughs, a hearty laugh that makes you feel like you’re on top of the world, something you’d never want to take for granted.
“What were you gonna get? I’ll buy you something— I feel really bad” you say, not even noticing how soft your voice became.
Her hand gently rested on your shoulder, looking you right in the eyes with a million dollar smile. “Don’t worry about it, how about I get your number instead?”
You pause, cheeks turning pink at the implication. You noticed her expression getting less confident the more your silence went on, so you stammered a response. “Yeah— yeah of course”
You stare at each other for a moment, silently acknowledging the shift between you two.
“Uhm.. what should I save you as?” You ask softly, opening your phone as she helps you stand up.
“Ellie.” A pretty name, perfect for an attractive girl like her. She tucks a strand behind her ear nervously, and you notice a faint shadow under her eyes. Similar to your own.
She made your heart flutter something you haven’t felt in so long to the point you didn’t think you’d ever get that feeling back.
You tried to actually buy her that coffee, both of you pulling out your cards and fighting the machine for who gets accepted first. Hers did, of course.
You had to leave quickly, getting late to work. “Hey.. I’ll call you, yeah?” You say softly, your hand holding Ellie’s wrist for a second to catch her attention.
“Leaving already?” Ellie says softly, her smile getting a little smaller, you notice that immediately, and you wish you could stay.
You didn’t know what to say, how to make it better because you really didn’t want to fuck this up. “Are you free Friday afternoon?”
Ellie nodded, her eyes sparkling with hope, smile growing again. “Yeah.”
You smile back, a cheesy one you didn’t know could be brought out of you anymore. “Okay, let’s hang out.”
You let go, in a bit of a hurry, Ellie walking you to your car. “It’s a date” she whispered, leaning to whisper that in your ear.
Your cheeks flushed, your body shivered at the sensation against your ear. You swallow hard before nodding at her. “Yeah.. it’s a date” you affirm.
This time, the drive didn’t feel like you were waiting for traffic to cause your demise. Instead— you’ve never been happier. A girl finally.. wanted you.
A warm feeling bubbles, and for the first time in years? You can’t stop smiling.
You’ve been texting Ellie since the day you spoiled her clothes, even through text it already feels like you’re getting to know the depth of her soul.
She tells you about her late night walks, deep stuff that you take as mysterious. And it never took long for you to develop a crush on those types.
And then Friday rolled around, and it was one of the best days of your life.
Ellie took you out on a picnic date, you’re wearing this pretty dress you’d brought years ago and never worn. You never had a desire to look good until today, and this is the best time to wear it.
It was a nice day, the park was busy but not too busy. You’d been texting every single day since you met at the cafe, she was just so charming, so beautiful, she made you feel alive again.
You started taking your meds once more.
She brought a basket with a bottle of wine and some poorly made sandwiches, it was more than perfect.
“So.. tell me about yourself” you say, a cheeky smile on your face as you lay on your stomach, looking up at Ellie.
She smiled, you watched her eyes check you out for a second before she looked away, almost shy. “Well.. I got a studio apartment, I study photography.. and I have an internship.”
“For photography?” You giggle, looking at her side profile, pretty and studious, dream combo already.
She smirks, eyeing your face a few times but she keeps having to look away, you’ve never had someone admire you like this.
“Photography marketing intern, I uh— manage their social media mostly. But sometimes they’ll let me help out with the shoots” she smiled, your heart went crazy.
You adjust your hands, propping your chin up so you can look at her properly. “That’s so cool.. I wish I was doing something fun like that.” You stare off, daydreaming.
“Like what?” Ellie says moving stray hair away from your face. Her hands are warm.
“I dunno, I was studying but I kinda.. stopped, now I’m just a receptionist” you hum, your mood souring a little because you feel the drip of familiar sadness pouring out of your heart.
Ellie’s hand moves to lay on top of yours, pulling it gently away from your face so they can be intertwined. “You could always do more, I don’t know you well yet— but you’re just.. amazing.” She whispers.
You snorted, squeezing Ellie’s hand. “Amazing? I spilled coffee on you 3 days ago.”
Ellie laughs, still looking over your face like she’s committing it to memory.
“Yeah, and you doing that gave me an excuse to talk to you.”
“Huh?” You mutter, eyes widening a bit. A smile widening too. “You wanted to talk to me? Like— before that?”
“Yeah” she muttered back, her eyes softening more. “I thought you were really pretty”
All you can do is laugh it off, too flustered to flirt and too nervous to do anything else but squeeze her hand once more.
She laughs as well, seemingly enjoying your presence. It makes you more giddy. Yet she always glances away, you take it as nervousness, but it just seems like something is always on her mind.
You don’t say anything, you’re only just getting to know her.
You stayed in the park for hours, almost until sunset. And you spent the entire time just learning new things about each other, you’ve never had conversation flow this easily before and it gave you so much hope.
By the second date, she’d taken you bowling. It was only a week after the first date and of course you immediately said yes, you completely sucked at it. Ellie spent the whole time rubbing it in your face.
The alley was filled with bright neon lights that made Ellie look like a god underneath them. Her eyes looked angelic and every time she touched you felt like a gift.
Maybe you gave it up too early, but by the end of the night you let her take you to her apartment.
“Soo.. this is the infamous apartment” you joke, holding Ellie’s hand like you did the whole way up the elevator.
Her hands move to your waist, pulling you close. “Mhm” she hums, dragging it out a little when she leans in, silently asking for a kiss.
You’ve been dying to kiss her since the first date, and despite it going too fast— you kiss her back. Tasting the sweet mint breath on her tongue, letting the sensation consume you.
You don’t say anything, letting the wet smacks of lips meeting each other fill the room. She walks you backwards until your knees hit the back of the bed.
You fall backwards, a small gasp escaping as Ellie captures your lips once more. Everywhere she touches feels like she’s leaving goosebumps in her wake, each moment of intimacy feels like it could last forever.
“Can you take it?” Ellie whispers, moving to kiss your neck.
You moan, your hand moving to the back of her neck to keep her in spot. “What do you mean?” A breathless laugh escaped you.
“I wanna use the strap.” She murmured in response, continuing to suck and kiss your neck all over.
You giggled, you can’t deny the idea of it turned you on. “Oh really now?”
“Mhm” she hummed, getting more passionate, her hand moving to squeeze your breast.
The contact makes you gasp once more, kissing Ellie’s neck in return which makes her almost groan. Both of you continue the motions for a while until you finally agree.
You’d never done anything like this, sure, you’ve had quick hookups to make you feel less.. lonely, but it was always fingers and mouth, never a strap on.
She senses your nerves as she starts putting on the harness, gently rubbing your thigh. “We don’t have to” she whispers, gently, like she’s trying to truly make sure you’re okay with this.
“I want it— I do” you say softly, more confident this time, what’s the harm in trying something new?
It was bigger than you expected, you wondered how the hell it’d fit. But Ellie eases you into it, fingering you slowly to loosen you up.
You moan as her fingers thrust in and out, keeping a perfect motion and you close your eyes to really feel it. To let the sensation fully drown you.
She puts another finger in, guaranteeing you're stretched out before slipping the head in you. You let out a loud whimper, grasping onto her shoulders.
“You okay?” Ellie whispers, her breaths coming fast as she asks.
“Yeah.. yeah I’m okay” you whisper back, your head flung back slightly, giving her more access to your throat.
She left just the head in for a little while, getting you used to it as she started littering your neck once more. Permanently marking herself there like she hadn’t already wormed her way into your heart.
She warns you quietly before putting more of the length in, making you moan over and over as she starts thrusting into you, looking you in the eyes.
You’d give anything to make this moment last, this is the first sex you’ve had that genuinely felt.. loving. You’d swear you could’ve cried if you thought of that fact any longer.
You kept eye contact as your pornoagraphic moans filled the apartment, definitely giving Ellie’s neighbours a show to listen in on. God you hoped they weren’t, or maybe you did, you don’t know.
The closer you came, the louder you got, and when you do cum it left this slick attached to the strap. It was a sight to see.
The harness rubbed against Ellie’s clit the whole time, and you let her keep thrusting into you until she came too, her pretty pussy fluids leaking down to meet yours.
You moved your fingers to collect some of Ellie’s cum as you caught your breath, she let out a small whine and watched in adoration as you stuck those same fingers to your mouth. Sucking them clean.
You laughed at the look on her face, like you caught her so off guard. And eventually she started laughing too, and you both couldn’t help yourselves after that.
Your giggles filled the apartment all night, you definitely didn’t stop at one round.. taking 10 minute breaks to laugh before getting back into it.
It was the best sex, an even better sleep. Damn right she put you to bed.
It felt perfect, too perfect. The way you wake up the next morning and it feels like a lazy day, staying in bed all night, sometimes scrolling through social media individually, then talking again.
You make Ellie breakfast, she kisses your shoulder and wraps her arms around you from behind. It was pure domestic bliss.
It took another date for you two to be official.
It wasn’t something big or dramatic, but it still swept you off your feet. It was a simple walk in the park, usual coffees in hand after a long day of work.
You were quiet mostly, lost in thought, using the walk as something to make you feel better because you were so overwhelmed. Ellie could see that.
She made you wait outside a small grocery store, at first you didn’t get it— just agreeing and standing out at night.
The light from the shop was illuminating the streets for you, giving you a chance to watch people passing by. Looking at other people around you doesn’t make you feel that same, depressed feeling it usually did. Surprisingly it gave you hope.
Seeing all these lives, some having good days, some aren’t, but you have faith in each and every one. Suddenly feeling a sense of contentment, you don’t need to live through them anymore.
You turned at the ding of the bell signalling Ellie left the store, and you felt a stab to your gut when you saw what she was holding.
Flowers, god you melted. It’s a simple gesture but you’d never really received them before. Ever. And then the words left her lips and it felt like a fairytale.
“Be my girlfriend.. Let me be your girlfriend. Please.” Her voice cracked, staring at you with complete adoration. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of her like waves.
“Yes— of course” you mumble, in shock, but you still find your way to hold Ellie’s waist and kiss her, breaths mingling together as you keep her close.
You smiled into the kiss, she did too. It ended up being a dance of teeth clattering together but it was nothing if not the best kiss of your life.
Now, you text every single morning and night without a second of hesitation. Not like you really hesitated before, but it doesn’t come from a place where you have to sit overthinking it for hours.
She started calling you pet names every time you saw her, and in turn you did the same.
If you’re not staying at her place, you’ll sleep on call with her. Listening to her breaths through FaceTime and wishing you were laying on her chest.
Most nights though? It’s at her apartment. Your apartment felt too.. lonely sometimes. You wear her hoodies, she wears yours, you cook together every Sunday specially because it’s the one day where neither of you have to work.
Other than cooking, it’s the quiet intimacy that really gets you. That makes you feel like you’re truly home, you’d lay in bed, sometimes you’d be reading with Ellie’s legs dangling over yours as she’s on her phone, other times you’re having sex.
You even go grocery shopping together, arguing about what to get because Ellie is, for better or worse, a terrible cook. And you have to influence her to learn.
It’s hard to teach her, because early on you picked up on the fact that Ellie doesn’t really eat. Sometimes it feels like she’s lost in her head on the days you can only talk on the phone, you always are the one to pull her out of it.
And in turn, she does the same for you. She doesn’t force conversation when you’re burnt out, when you’re venting she doesn’t tell you how to feel, she even drove you to your therapy appointments a few times.
But nothing is entirely perfect, it never really is. It was fine for the first 3 months, but then it felt like somewhere along the way you both got.. sloppy?
Sometimes Ellie won’t reply for hours when you’re apart. You try to rationalise it because well— she’s working. But she always did take time for you.
It made you a little insecure, it felt like too big of a jump. So the next time you saw her, you confronted her about it.
You paced for hours before asking, feeling a sense of abandonment and an unwavering amount of fear. There’s always the chance you’re wrong.
Finally bringing yourself to enter the room, you force the words out.
“Ellie..” you muttered when you’d arrived at her apartment that night, it’s not the first time she’d done it of course, you wouldn’t be making it a thing if it was.
She just hummed, staring up at the ceiling whilst laying on her bed. Like she wasn’t even with you despite the fact you’re standing right next to her.
You hesitated, maybe it wasn’t the best time. Clearly she’s exhausted, probably from working and her internship. Yet you couldn’t stop the words from pouring out.
“I.. I know you could just be busy, obviously, I know you are— but, why don’t you text me back much anymore.”
The words caught her attention, making her look over at you with this confused expression, kinda like a puppy caught doing something bad.
“Oh.” Was all she said for a moment, like she was processing this was a confrontation. “I don't mean to baby, really. Of course I wanna talk to you” she said so genuinely, making you feel like shit immediately.
You stay silent for a beat, before sitting on the bed next to Ellie, holding her hand. “Are you sure..?” You whisper.
“Of course I am” Ellie whispered back firmly, she’s so genuine your heart aches that you questioned it in the first place.
Nothing more is said, just a little spat that was easily resolved. Ellie kisses the top of your head, leaving little kisses down your scalp.
“I love you, you know that” she murmured whilst sniffing your hair, savouring your scent.
“I’m sorry..” you keep whispering, like if you say it any louder you’d break.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Ellie whispers back each time. Moving to hold you, her arms feel like a protective barrier keeping you from harm, from yourself.
It’s like no matter how good things are, how good they’ll get, how positive the future is looking up.. you’ll never truly be safe from yourself. Everything makes you feel like you’re one second from going insane.
And Ellie sees that, she’s always seen it. She never brings it up, never says it out loud. But you both know she knows and you just let it linger between you two.
She became more attentive, texting you all day no matter what to the point you would actually be the one telling her to go back to work. It lasted two weeks.
Those two weeks still made you feel euphoric, reminding you of the dates she always took you on. Of all the beautiful gradual moments you had when you were first falling in love.
You could’ve sworn that people who believed the honeymoon phase would end were stupid, that this feels better than anything you’d ever done in your life. Even better than the pills.
But the next thing you started to notice is how often she’d be cancelling plans, how you would be on your way to drop by and she’d tell you she’s just ‘not feeling it.’
At that point you genuinely started thinking she was cheating on you, the thought still playing whenever she became distant like this.
But when you’d arrived to confront her she just— was laying there.
It scared you for a minute, until you saw the twitch in her shoulder and you finally took a breath. Walking over to her and gently rubbing her arm up and down.
You sat there, listening to the sounds of her breathing and you felt uneasy. It seemed like she hadn’t gotten up at all, obvious from the mess her apartment became.
You got up, cleaning the clothes off the floor, doing her laundry, and then making something for her to eat. Trying to stay quiet so as to not disturb her slumber, trying not to let your thoughts consume you.
Are you missing something? What would’ve happened if she was awake, would you still have gone off on her?
You knew it wasn’t okay now. Seeing her in this state was a cruel reminder to yourself to stop jumping to conclusions, but it was hard.
The months pass, and it becomes harder to read Ellie. But honestly? You’re not doing well either.
It was a slow, gradual decline, where you thought that maybe you could put yourself aside and help Ellie. But it ended up just completely draining the life out of you.
Her moods affect your appetite, your sleep.
You showered her, fed her, you knew she wasn’t okay. She lost her internship, she just looked.. awful. You love her so much all you want to do is save her, but your brain wouldn’t let you.
It just started getting harder to save someone when you couldn’t save yourself, it felt like more and more months became so dedicated to you taking care of Ellie that you couldn’t even take care of yourself.
That truth hurt, you thought that this kind of love would make everything better, you thought things would just magically be fixed, that all of your issues would go away in a flash.
They didn’t, they never did. You had just started to feel somewhat normal, just started to believe in some form of miracle or hope.
You stopped taking your meds because you kept forgetting, too stressed out about whether Ellie had eaten that day, or if she’d gone outside for a moment, or if she’s showered or taken care of herself.
And when you remember? You just.. let it be. Making excuses for yourself as to why when in reality you know the answer. It’s getting too much, you’re getting tired.
You know she feels bad about it, you know she still tries to love you as best she can. But she’s falling down in a spiral, and so are you.
It ended up in both of you, just in bed all the time, like some virus that spread to the both of you. Everything hurts, not just in your head but your whole body is affected.
You find yourself almost copying her decline. Skipping meals, staring at the ceiling at the same time as her, feeling your chest tighten because it doesn’t feel like love anymore. It’s survival by proxy.
You thought about leaving sometimes, that this isn’t good for either of you. That’s it’s become a lack of a relationship, and instead, it’s just you and her trying to have at least a sliver of company.
It’s like you’re both trying to save each other, but neither of you want to be saved.
But life doesn’t wait for anyone, and you can’t cancel your next therapy appointment otherwise you’ll get a fee.
You dragged yourself out of bed despite your legs not wanting to work, kissing Ellie’s forehead before grabbing just a jacket. You don’t bother to get out of your pajamas, then you throw on some shoes and head on your way.
The way there was uneventful, though the car felt stuffy with all the things unsaid.
Somehow the faint music on the radio pulled you even more out of it. Even though it was supposed to lock you into what you’re actually doing.
The whole time your thoughts feel consumed by Ellie, about what she’s doing, if she’s still in bed, if you should turn around and join her.
And as you pull into the therapist clinic, you remain there for a moment. Unable to pull yourself out of the car just yet, because god you just need a second to breathe.
Everything feels too— intense. Like you’re being pulled 5 different ways into all different thoughts, about just going home and spending more time in bed and cancelling it, just taking the fee and leaving to be with Ellie. Or to stay and just take it as it happens.
You stay, because you know you have to. Building yourself up enough to walk in, and accept anything you walk into. Much less say. You don’t feel like analysing the room anymore, looking at the people, the TV, outside. It feels like too much work now, too overwhelming.
By the time you’ve sat yourself in the usual chair, a feeling of dread overcomes you— having to say everything out loud feels like a sin. Like it’ll betray Ellie even though the session is supposed to be about you.
The second Lucy walks in, you’re hit with the smell of coffee immediately. But you can’t stop the words from escaping your mouth just at the sight of her.
“I don’t know what to say” you whisper, looking down at your knees.
“That’s okay, this session is about you.” She hums, the image of her opening up her notebook feels too familiar by now.
“Yeah— I know that, you tell me that every single time. But it still never feels like it.”
“How so?” Your therapist jumps in, your words getting captured. Hook, line, and sinker.
You stay quiet for a beat, but by this point all you can do is spill it out. Like truth serum has been poured down your throat. “Because everything about me is so based on other people. It’s not about me, it’s bigger than me. It’s everybody I’ve ever spoken to.”
Lucy takes a moment, tapping her pen twice whilst staring at you. Trying to grasp something to say to keep you talking, as they do.
“But you’re still your own person, everyone has traits based on the people around them, that’s normal.” She starts, but you cut in.
“But it’s not like how everybody else does it.. all of me is just consumed by having to grasp onto somebody. I don’t enjoy anything.. I just wanna be seen by people—“
A breath passes, but you feel like you have to get it off your chest before you hear more bullshit about your coping skills. You need to talk it out.
“It’s so fucking overwhelming.. I need somebody to see me so badly, but there’s nothing for me to be seen as anymore.”
Lucy doesn’t write anything this time, and that makes your chest tighten.
She sets her pen down slowly, folding her hands in her lap and looks at you like she’ll find a little hole in your brain. “That sounds terrifying.” She says. “To feel like your existence doesn’t matter when nobody is holding it.”
You swallow, pinching your arm to remind you in some way that this is real, that this is all coming out of your mouth. “It is.”
The silence stretches.. It's an uncomfortable kind. The kind where she’s letting you actually sit with it instead of rushing you out.
“Its called identity diffusion.” Lucy continues gently. “It often shows up when someone has spent a long time surviving instead of living.”
You scoff quietly, your hands moving to run through the ends of your hair. “So what? I just didn’t build a personality?”
“That’s not what I said.” Her voice is firm, but never straying from unkind. “I said you learned that attachment is safer than selfhood.”
Your jaw tightens, fingers curling in to form fists against the strands of your hair.
“I don’t know how to exist without someone..” you admit. “When I’m alone.. it feels like I’m evaporating.”
Lucy nods, her eyes dart for a second before making eye contact once again, and in turn, you look away.
“And Ellie?” Lucy’s words almost make you flinch.You think about her laying in bed again, staring at the walls, phone untouched for hours. A dread comes through you, just a sharp stab you ignore.
“She’s everything.. but that’s not fair, she can’t even get up anymore..” the words land.
Lucy pauses, letting you sit with each word. “Do you feel responsible for keeping her alive?”
Your throat burns. “Yes.”
“And do you feel like she’s responsible for keeping you alive?”
Another pause, longer this time. “Yes.”
Lucy exhales slowly, tapping her finger against the arm chair. “It’s turned from love to holding each other above water, You’re both drowning. And it’s not going to improve your recovery.”
“I don’t want to leave her” you choke out. “I can’t.. I can’t survive but.. I need her too. She’s everything.”
Lucy leans forward slightly. “Then maybe? This isn’t about leaving Ellie. Maybe you need to meet yourself for the first time, without using her as a mirror.”
You shake your head. “But I don’t know who I am!”
“That makes sense. You’re mid-metamorphosis, caterpillars don’t recognise themselves when everything starts dissolving.” She replies softly.
Your breath stutters, the grip on your ends tight like you could rip out the strands.
“They don’t know that they’ll be butterflies.” Lucy adds. “They just know everything hurts, that nothing feels solid.”
And for the first time in the session, you really look at her. “What if I never become anything?”
Lucy meets your eye, a small smile gracing her lips. “Then I’ll sit with you anyway.”
You finally push the door open, the familiar creak of the hinges sounds sharper than usual. The apartment smells faintly of something burnt, but you don’t smell smoke. It might just be the amount of time you and Ellie have spent rotting together all this time.
Ellie’s jacket is still on the couch, the clothes thrown all over the ground, her mug is on the counter, probably 5 seconds away from attracting ants.
“Ellie?” Your voice cracks, and it echoes strangely in the halls. No reply.
You move around the apartment, every little sound rings in your ears. The hum of the fridge— the faint tick of the clock— it’s all suddenly louder, but also too empty.
Something is off, something about the lights shifting through the blinds, the wind making them patter against the walls. The shadows stretching too long across the floor, everything is nagging you.
A creeping sense of wrongness curls in your stomach, and for a brief second you feel a chill. The air itself holds its breath as you approach the bedroom door.
For a second— you feel dramatic. Because every time you’ve arrived home due to one thing or another.. Ellie’s always been in bed. You try to shake it off with a laugh, your head moving side to side with a scoff escaping your lips.
But deep down, something already told you that today isn’t like the others. It never was, therapy kinda took the life out of you.
But as you finally turn the knob, the sight in front of you makes you pause, for one second— two, maybe, before you immediately start screaming.
You see the empty pill bottle laying on the sheets, Ellie slumped on the bed, but it’s not the usual kind of sleeping slump. It’s one that truly shows how loose her body has become.
You can’t see the familiar rise and fall of her shoulders, and that sight broke you.
You ran over, trying to shake her, trying to see through your tears. But when you rest your head on her chest for a second to double check if she’s breathing? You can’t feel the familiar beat of her heart. The beat that has soothed you to sleep more times than you can count, the beat that would race under your touch.
You called an ambulance, sobbing over the phone because your everything has been taken away. You can’t even delude yourself that she’s alive.
And as you’re holding her hand, waiting for them to arrive, through your tears your mind demands you to look at the bottle on the bed.
Your stomach fell, heart in your ass when you saw the label glaring right at you.
The one you wouldn’t take for days at a time, the one that did make you feel better but you couldn’t live with the thought of escaping all your sick.
And Ellie.. Ellie took every last one. And all that’s left is a small sticky note attached onto it.
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