Melancholia (Lesley, PG)

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Summary: Lesley helps Reader through a depressive episode.

Rating: Suitable for 13+

Content Warning: Depression, self-hatred, medication use (unidentified)

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The clock on the wall hasn't ticked in days, and as much as I wanted to say it was a metaphor for my current state of mind, I knew that it was only because the batteries died and I was too tired to change them.

Tired. More like lazy. Whatever word they're using to describe the abysmal apathy that swallowed the space around me like an ever present shadow. It would only take a few minutes to remedy the problem — to drown out the ambient buzzing of the refrigerator filled with half-rotten food.

Lazy. More like ungrateful. Unwilling to recognize how lucky I am to even have a roof over my head. To have access to water and clothes just to avoid showering because my thoughts are amplified by the water.

The clock on the wall hasn't ticked in days.

So why do I keep looking at it, expecting it to give me an answer to questions it was never designed to anticipate?

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in like I've always been told to do. But I couldn't even do that right, blowing out the air too quickly and with quivering lips. I think I was trying to cry, but I couldn't tell you why. No tears fell. It was probably for the best, anyway. It was certainly a good representation of how I felt.

Empty. Empty like the apartment that I hadn't left in time to see the sunlight in at least a week. Maybe two, but who's counting anyway? My friends had long given up on contacting me when I get like this. They knew it was a fruitless effort. Unless they really would rather spend their little bit of free time playing babysitter and maid while I tried to get myself together.

It was best for me to be alone. Wallowing in self-pity until the options became so bleak that I had no other choice than to get up. Until something forced me from the indentation shaped like my unrecognizable body.

Something good. Something so unbelievably, impossibly wonderful that I might be able to believe that the world wasn't all bad all the time.

Or, I don't know, maybe just a stray cat batting at the window to say hello. Maybe that would be enough.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound that shook the dust of my mind was so in tune with my thoughts that I actually looked to the window first. But when there were no patting paws, I turned my attention to the much more sensible location: my front door.

When I finally found my way there on shaky legs, I paused. It was days like this I really wished that I had a peephole. But I didn't, so I just stood there, weighing whether it was worth the gamble. There were only a few people who could be on the other side, and only a handful of them were people I cared about enough to pretend to be happy.

The rest were people I never wanted to see me like this.

"(Y/n)? It's Lesley."

Just like that, my heart leapt back to life from its hiding place somewhere in my stomach.

"Your neighbors told me you were home. Not like, in a creepy way, or anything. I just happened to pass them and they recognized me and mentioned you were home when I... You know, nevermind. It doesn't matter, but—"

The door swung opened and stopped his thought, replacing it with my own.

"What are you doing here?"

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