Work Text:
It was all just getting to be a little too much.
First, your parents had been pestering you about trying to marry you off. For the sake of your own pride, you had to had fight them on that, at least.
Then, it seemed as if everything in your life was changing just a little too quickly. Many of your childhood friends had been moving away for some reason or another. Your parents were about to move into a better house, anyway, so even if they couldn’t marry you off, you’d still be moving to the other side of town with them. On top of it all, you’d gotten a new job.
You worked at the local tavern as a server, and it was rough, to say the least. Fast-paced, demanding, sometimes all-consuming. Everything stacking on top of each other, plus all the other little things irritating you about your day-to-day, were culminating into some sort of breakdown of your sanity, you could feel it.
The best part about your job so far had been getting to meet Geralt of Rivia. He had shown up while traveling, as your village was often an easy resting point for travelers, and while everyone else had cowered away from the big, scary witcher, you had been fascinated. When everyone else refused to serve him, you jumped at the opportunity. He had seemed… disinterested, at first, at the way you eagerly served him with a smile, but you made a few more attempts to talk to him. Trying to get him to open up to you, you forgot about a lot of your problems, just for the evening.
By the end of the night, he promised he would be back to see you again soon.
~~~
“Darling? Wake up! You’re going to be late for work if you keep sleeping in like this!”
You sigh, sitting up, and rubbing your eyes in discontent. All you want is some rest, but of course, you couldn’t be granted even that much.
“Dear, did you hear me? I said-”
“Yes, mother! I heard you!”
“Well, get up then!”
“I am.”
You don’t mean to be snippy, but you know that if you sit with her before you leave, she’ll start nagging you about all the things she thinks you should be doing. You get dressed slowly, and go about as much of your morning routine as possible within the confines of your own room.
When you finally exit, you head straight for the front door.
“Dear? Where are you-”
“Work.”
“But shouldn’t you-”
“I’ll eat at work.”
You don’t mean for the door to slam behind you - alright, maybe you do just a little bit - but it does.
Your walk to work isn’t exactly a walk in the park.
You’re taking your time, trying to enjoy the stroll, when suddenly your life is flashing before your eyes as someone’s rogue cart almost runs you over. You watch as a farmer goes running after it, yelling back to you, “Sorry! So sorry!”
He’s already gone, but you mumble to yourself, “It’s fine.” You take a deep breath. “It’s completely fine.”
Soon after, you get stopped by an old friend.
“How are you? How’ve you been?”
“I’ve… been.” You respond, meekly, not being able to muster up enough energy to put on a happy mask.
“Sounds like you’re having a rough time of it then! What’s the matter?”
Someone to listen to you? Finally?
“Oh, it’s just a couple of big things on top of a lot of small things, and it’s just really building up recently. My parents won’t stop nagging me even though I’m grown, and my new job is a lot to handle, and I just-”
“Eh, sounds like just a lot of nothing you need to shake off. Just go with the flow of it, why don’t you?”
The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, “Ah, maybe you’re right. I really should be on my way, have to get to work.” You make a hasty exit, remembering why you had all but stopped talking to that friend a while ago.
You’re musing on the fantasy of having someone to listen to you complain without judging you, when suddenly you feel a deep whack against your back.
“Ow!” You yelp, rubbing your back where your spine aches and spinning around, only to find a group of children chasing after the ball that had just attacked you.
“Sorry!” They all chime, some giggling, some looking apologetic. You can’t stop yourself when you fix them all with a sharp glare, proclaiming, “You all better be careful or you’re going to end up hurting somebody!” Some of them have the decency to look alarmed, and they all scamper off at your words, as you turn around, hoping to walk off the light damage you received.
Next, you find a black cat crossing your path. You might not be superstitious, but goddamnit, on top of everything else, this has to happen.
Finally, you make it to your place of employment. Inside is already chaos.
Your coworkers scramble around, trying to lighten the load, and customers talk and sing and chew loudly, and you’re just about already completely overwhelmed.
The bartender spots you quickly, and immediately barks at you to, “Get to work!”
You spend the next few hours doing just that.
~~~
The next time you get to slow down is when the entire establishment goes quiet. You almost don’t notice, but one glance at the door and you could never miss the interruption. You smile and every other person in the room glowers or grimaces or frowns, as Geralt of Rivia walks through the door, quiet and large, brooding and analytical. He ignores the stares and whispers, and makes his way over to the bar, waiting, until eventually people begin to resume their conversations.
You bustle in his direction immediately, thanking the universe that at least one good thing could happen today.
“Well, if it isn’t the mighty witcher, back again.” You lean against the bar across from him.
You swear he smiles just a little, “I said I would be, didn’t I?”
You chuckle lightly. “If the common rabble is to be believed, your word is worth nothing.”
“How unfortunate then that my word is about all I have.”
You nearly have to physically shake your head to shake off the spell this man casts on you. “Is there anything I can get you?”
You resume your work, trying your damnedest to stop and talk to Geralt as often as you can. He’s patient, willing to put conversations on hold and resume them as your available time allows. He listens when you speak, and easily captures your attention when he does. It may have been in broken pieces, but this is the most enjoyable conversation you’ve had in many weeks.
You serve one table that’s been at it for hours once more, and before you head back over to Geralt, you decide to stop and take a breath, just for a moment. You close you eyes and breathe deeply, blocking out the noise and doing your best to pretend you’re somewhere else. An escape, for just a couple of seconds.
That is, until your boss’ voice begins ringing in your ears, loudly, “What are you doing, standing around? Get back to work!”
To put it gently, you snap.
You can’t sense yourself screaming, but you hear your own voice, loud, shrieking. You don’t feel much of any sensation at all other than light-headedness, and a vague sense of nausea, and you see red.
The next thing you feel is arms. Large, gently taking hold of you - guiding you away. You fight it, because what the hell? But you get tugged away anyway by this force that is much stronger than you are and you soon give up. By the time you begin to come down enough to process the world around you, all you can see is the door, and all you can hear is, “-and don’t come back!”
You look and see that the one who had dragged you away is none other than Geralt of Rivia, and you’re stunned into silence as you process your own actions.
What was I thinking?
I wasn’t.
I just got fired.
How could I do that?
Geralt leads you off to the nearest spot where you can sit down without prying eyes, which happens to be near the tree line of the forest. Without prompting, you collapse on the ground, and promptly burst into tears.
I lost my job because I couldn’t keep my cool, and for what? Mother and father will be so angry, and everyone will know and think I’m a failure. Maybe mother and father are right, if I can’t even handle life-
It startles you when you feel a hand gently come to rest on your back. It shocks you to hear Geralt’s voice say, “Don’t cry.”
You look at him, and he seems uncomfortable, but not eager to leave you alone. You quickly try to wipe away your tears, mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”
“You have no reason or need to apologize to me.” That gets the waterworks going again, and whatever control you had been gaining disappears.
He sits in silence with you as you lose that control, but it seems he eventually can’t control his curiosity anymore, or he figures asking will make the crying go away faster, when he asks, “What was that about?”
You manage to sniffle your way through a sentence, “I just couldn’t take it all anymore, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.”
“I’m willing to listen if it would help to talk, though.”
The floodgates were really released then, as you rush to speak your problems like Geralt would disappear before your eyes if you took too long. Parents. Moving. Job. Overwhelmed. No one will listen. Ages of feeling completely alone. By the time you’re reaching the end of all you need to say, your tears are winding down, and Geralt hasn’t said a word.
“And I know other people have bigger problems than I do, I really do, but that doesn’t stop it from feeling like I’m suffocating, all the time. It feels stupid, saying I feel like I just can’t do it anymore, although I suppose I just handled one part of it, but I really, really do feel that way. Laugh, if you must, but that won’t change the fact that these circumstances I find myself in leave me… miserable.”
“Makes sense to me.”
You blink in surprise. That was the last thing you expected him to say. “What?”
“Just because you have what most would consider a good life doesn’t mean it’s all good, and doesn’t mean it’s meant for you. Most wouldn’t look at me and be envious but I think I’d have quite the same reaction as you to those stressors, much sooner than you did. It’s not meant for everyone.”
“If only I had a choice in the matter, right?”
“You do. No one can make you do anything, least of all listen to everything your parents tell you to do or keep you in a shitty job you hate.”
“Well what else am I meant to do, then?”
He examines you for a moment, then shrugs, “Come with me.”
“…I’m sorry?”
“Maybe a life of traveling would suit you better.”
You think back to the moment before your meltdown, how you had been desperately wishing you were anywhere else. It seems a foolish proposition, but… maybe he’s right?
After a brief conversation with your scandalized parents, you were gone by morning.