Mentions of previous (emotional) abuse
She's not too sure exactly when she zones back in, but it's at some point in Ian's car on the way back to his place. She doesn't know what happened, really, everything since finishing work is all fuzzy round the edges still, and the thought of that scares her. Anything could've happened to her. And sure, she's no stranger to being hurt, but being completely out of control when it happens, being so helpless...seems so terrifying.
But she's safe.
She's safe. Those are the two words that she keeps repeating to herself, a mantra stuck in a constant loop in her mind as she thoughtlessly clutches the stuffed animal Ian bought for her close to her chest, her fingers locked around the soft fur. It's grounding, the texture comforting to her. She's pretty sure that everyone who works at Smosh is very much aware of the fact that she loves any teddy bear or toy, but none of them tease her for it. Not in a malicious way, anyway.
Ian's voice is another thing that's helping her stay present, as he keeps telling her stories about his childhood and his early Smosh days, occasionally asking her the odd question that's not too complex but hard enough that she actually has to put some thought into it.
"You got a name for them, yet?" He asks, as if on cue, glancing over to her and the stuffed dog. "I'm thinking Wilbur."
It's so random yet so...Ian, and she laughs slightly. What sort of name is Wilbur?
"You know, like the pig from Charlotte's Web? Please don't say you've never seen the film, or even read the book?" He feigns shock, shaking his head in mock disappointment, but the action unlocks something inside of her; a key slotting into its lock and opening up something she'd tried to protect herself from.
"Why the fuck are you crying? God, Courtney, am I really that bad company that you turn into a blubbering mess whenever you're with me? You always fucking do this! What's wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry, I-I don't," She gulps between her cries, not knowing what to say, "It's not you, it's me, I don't kn-know what's wrong with me."
His hands smack against the steering wheel and she tenses up, waiting for some sort of impact. It doesn't come. "Damn right, it's you. You're so fucked up, I don't know what I did to deserve this shit. All I've ever done is be nice and put up with everything you put me through, and this is what you do? You know what, Courtney, get out."
She tenses in her seat, grip loosening on the plushy as it falls out of her hands and rolls off of her lap. Eyes shut instinctively, nails digging into her thighs as she tries to stop it. She wants it to stop.
"Court, are you okay? What's happening right now?"
There's that hint of worry that she hates to hear in Ian's voice and she forces her eyes back open, taking a deep breath before even attempting to respond. "I'm fine," She knows he doesn't believe her, "I will be fine, I-I just...remembered something, maybe?"
He cocks an eyebrow and turns his attention back to the road. She knows he's probably going to ask her about it later, but for now he has dropped it and she's grateful, leaning forward to pick her husky up from the footwell. "Besides, I'm too dumb to read children's books unless they've got pictures in," She jokes, pitch slightly higher than usual. She corrects it before continuing, "I'm thinking...maybe Uno? I like the game, and there's only one of him."
"Or is there?" Ian jokes back, doing his conspiracy theory voice he loves to tease Noah with. "You know I'm just kidding - I like it. Uno. It's uno-ique."
They both cringe at his attempt at a pun, the two of them falling back into silence once more. But it isn't a bad silence, it's...comforting, almost. Like when she spends time with her siblings and they don't need to talk to enjoy each other's company, just sit with each other. It's nice.
They stay that way until he turns onto his road and even in the crappy streetlights in the dark, she can make out his house. He parks up on his drive and they both get out of his car, before he leads her into his house and locks the door behind them. "You know where everything is, Bourt-knee, make yourself at home. I'm gonna see if I can find you any leftover merch that'll fit you, you don't have to change if you don't want to, but the options there, and then we'll watch some shitty films. Sound like a plan?"
She's all too quick to nod in response, placing the bag from the gas station on his kitchen island, next to his laptop, and sitting on one of the bar stools. "You got it, dude."
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He doesn't leave the room until he sees that Courtney has sat down, placing Uno on the countertop in front of her.
It's not that he's scared that she'll disappear or something, he just...needs to know where she is. And that may sound creepy, but he doesn't care. Not after what's happened today. Courtney has gotten herself lost before, sure - he vividly remembers the first time that they went to a carnival together with the other cast members and spending almost an hour trying to find her after she'd wandered off (they had found her in the 'Wacky Shack', trying to recreate the scene from Grease) - but nothing like this has ever happened before. Then again, Courtney has never been like this before.
She seemed fine earlier in the day, when he had pulled her into his office to check in and apologise for the incident the week before. She had explained how she had just been in her head a lot recently, and that she's been working on it with her therapist. And that had been that.
A part of him knew that she wasn't being truthful with him, but he didn't want to dig into it further. It was her business, and if she didn't want to talk about it just yet, then he respected that. They're entitled to their privacy and boundaries. But maybe he should've asked. Maybe he should've pried more and tried to get an answer out of her, because perhaps then he wouldn't have gotten that phone call almost two hours ago.
The memory of how she sounded, how scared she was is imprinted in his mind. He doesn't think he'll ever forget it.
But, for now, he settles on trying to find her some clean clothes to wear. He knows he has a bunch of old costumes in his spare room that could be put to use if needed, perhaps some leggings or sweatpants she can use, and then he must have at least a dozen merch shirts for her to choose from.
After a couple of minutes, he finds a pair of cycling shorts he's sure she used to wear all the time at the bottom of the second box of random costume pieces. They're plain black - the only indication to them being hers is the pink stitching on the label that the old art department used to use to tell items apart - and he's comfortable knowing that they'll go with practically anything. So, he takes them into his bedroom and rummages through his merch drawer to find a hoodie.
By the time he's done and back downstairs, Courtney has tears running down her face, hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her sobs. He rushes to her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and sitting on the stool next to her. "It's okay, Court, it's okay," He tries to offer, but his words don't seem right. He doesn't know if it's okay. In fact, he knows it's not okay right now, and he'd be an idiot to try and deny that. "Talk to me."
"I just...you left me and I was fine, you were just upstairs, but I was alone and I started to spiral and it's so stupid, I'm just being dumb but I started to think about earlier and he was so mad at me and I can't go home, a-and I...I'm such a crybaby. Like jeez, Courtney, get a fucking grip of yourself, you're twenty-three years old - get over it. But I...I-I can't and I can't stop thinking about what he said, he was so angry and I can't go home but I don't have anything, he has my phone and keys and my bag, I don't even have my ID badge to get into work tomorrow and maybe I'm thinking too far ahead, but what if I can't go home again? What if...what if he kicks me out and I have nowhere to go, I always choose the shittiest landlords and apartments and I can't afford to rent a place on my own but I need my own space, and how am I meant to move my stuff if he won't let me back?" She catches her breath, body trembling. He makes no move to interrupt her, letting her continue once she's taken a couple gasps of air. "I'm so stupid, I don't know why I did this to myself. I need to fix it, I need to fix me and do better and be better and I...I don't know how."
She looks up at him, eyes glistening as her teeth sink into her bottom lip, fighting off any more tears. "That sounds so...tough for you to be going through right now, and I'm sorry. You're always welcome at my place, just so you know, and we'll figure it out, okay? But tonight you're gonna stay here, we will eat our snacks and watch your awful movies you love so much, and forget about it until tomorrow. Okay?"
"O-okay."