(DISCLAIMER: mentions of depression.)
Imagine: Thomas comforts you through an episode triggered by depression, but wishes you could see yourself through his eyes.
It was so hard all the time. Every morning was a struggle to get out of bed, the day dragged on and on and on with seemingly no end in sight, and finally when night came, you couldn't sleep knowing the next day would be exactly the same as the one you'd just endured.
You sat in a satin gown, clammy hands barely keeping a grasp on the drink Thomas had poured you upon arrival. He sat across from you with one leg folded across the other and his hands in his lap. He was examining you, something you'd come to wave off as simply Thomas being Thomas. You were covered in sweat and cringed every time your thighs stuck to the leather of the couch. The room was silent save for your laboured breathing and the occasional slurp - until Thomas lit a cigarette and began speaking.
"I know that look," he started, lazily pointing his cigarette at you and raising his brows, "you can't sleep." You nodded meekly, afraid that if you responded verbally, your voice would break. "What's on your mind?"
You looked up at him, gaping like a goldfish, and Thomas chuckled lightly, blowing a ring of smoke at you before offering you your own cigarette. Normally, you were well against smoking and drinking, often scolding Thomas and his brothers for such unhealthy habits, only to instantly apologise for making such criticisms. This time, you were eager, snatching the little white stick from the packet and leaning forward, letting Thomas light it for you.
Of course you coughed a lung up, taking a much too large inhalation. Thomas would've laughed at you any other time, but could read the atmosphere well, he knew now was no time for jokes. You were in pain. "I just feel like every single day something has to happen," you started, knowing full well you wouldn't stop, "I try so hard to stay positive, like my doctor says. It's just so hard when life just keeps.."
You trailed off, unable to continue as tears rolled down your puffy, red cheeks. "Shovelling shit at you." Thomas leaned forward, putting out his cigarette in the glass ash tray and stepping around the coffee table to take a seat next to you.
He wrapped an arm around you and rubbed your shoulder with his thumb. "I know how it gets, Y/N. I know how hard it is to find the strength and the will to keep shovelling when you've been doing it so long."
You took a smaller drag and while the smoke made you light headed and slightly nauseous, it was somehow helping, much like a cup of tea would. You continued to cry but the noise settled back into silence, "I'm so tired." You admitted quietly, almost shamefully.
Thomas turned and pressed a kiss to your temple, "You can't stop shovelling, not ever. It's what we were born on this earth to do. Shovel through all the piss and shit and blood until you find something else."
You relaxed, soothed by the tone of Thomas's voice in your ear and his lips gently tickling your face, noting the lack of stubble - he was always immaculate when it came to personal hygiene and grooming.
"But how do we know there is something else? What if there's only more piss and shit?" Your eyes widened at the daunting thought, so panicked at the possibility that you found it laughable. You did, you laughed hard and the tears kept flowing. You must have looked like a demented person gone astray, but your feelings were so overwhelming that you couldn't contain them.
Thomas didn't have an answer for that question and you laughed harder when he snatched the cigarette from your hand and pressed it between his lips. "We'll just have to find out."
"I don't want to fucking find out, Tommy. I'm sick of waiting for something to change, something to give - because it never does!" Thomas leaned back into the couch, pulling you with him and humming in agreement with your statement.
You appreciated Thomas's lack of judgement when given insight on the workings of your mind. He never shamed you, and acted as a safe space. "I just feel powerless, like my life has no direction. My family, my friends, my love life, my occupation, it's all fucked."
Thomas pulled your leg across his lap and held it there, allowing you to rest your head on his chest, the crisp white fabric tarnished by your tears.
"Don't do that. You always do that. Stop basing your self worth on what you have or haven't done in life, that's where everyone else is making a mistake." You raised your head and blinked at him, "What do you mean?"
Thomas sighed, clearly beginning to lose patience, but continued for your sake. "You need to do things in life for you, Y/N, not for other people's approval of you. No one else fucking matters, no one but you - and you've got a lot to work with."
You felt ridiculous, but compelled anyway, "What do you mean?" You repeated, and Thomas simply cupped the back of your head and pressed your face into his chest, gently smothering you. "I've never met someone who was as hard on themselves as me. You haven't succeeded in the ways you want to yet because you're so afraid of failure."
You pondered his words, trying to connect the dots in your mind, while Thomas continued his take on your current situation. "And after a while of procrastinating out of fear, it becomes failure anyway. I know how much that scares the shit out of you, just like being judged by the people you care about scares the shit out of you - and that's what's holding you back, Y/N. You're capable of so much."
His button-up was drenched in tears and drool, but Thomas ignored the moist sensation gathering against his flesh, simply running his right hand up and down your back, unable to feel the soft fabric beneath his calloused fingers.
He continued to jump back and forth between comfort and lecture, but Thomas made himself clear - and despite all the pessimism swirling around inside your mind, his words touched your heart and made it beat double. Your eyes squeezed shut while you hiccuped, pulling your other leg off the ground and laying straight between Thomas, too tired to care about his hipbone digging into yours.
The day's events, the emotional turmoil, the melt down, it was all so energy consuming and you were utterly drained.
Your head shook but Thomas stilled it with his hand, pressing his free one on top of that and holding you against him. "You are."
