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Darby should be on top of the world. His boyfriend loves him, he's the champion of a company, he finally has money to do what he wants, he's free. So why is there a sadness weighing on his soul? There's something sinking him back to the depths no matter how hard the rest tries to pull him out, clinging to him and preventing him from rising to happiness. There's no way to get it off, no way to lock the feelings away. They're there and he can't do anything about it.
Most of the time he can keep himself distracted, paying attention to other things, calling Jon, but once in a while it sneaks up on him. For no reason, maybe things are just going slightly too well; happiness doesn't like Darby. It cripples him, worse than any injury he's had before, because at least then he knew exactly why he couldn't do things he enjoyed. But now, it makes no sense.
The ever calling urge to skate, but Darby can't get out of bed. No matter the self-discipline he installed into himself in his time living out of his car, it's an ant trying to move a boulder. He just can't make his limbs move, can't do anything except lay there, stuck in his own thoughts. Even as the list of things he needs to do grows and grows, he can't move. Neither his strict needs to eat and work out nor things to do for fun are enough to let him escape the shackles.
It's so stupid, something he shouldn't have happen to him. He's not weak, he should be able to get up out of bed. It's not even that hard, he's done it every morning for over two decades, so why does it feel like he's being asked to sprout wings and fly? He can't do it, not today, and for what reason. There's nothing at all, and there are so many things he has to do today, should be doing right now, he needs to get up.
But ten minutes later, Darby hasn't moved an inch. Stuck staring up at the ceiling, rapidly blinking back tears as his list of tasks crashes into him. He still has to eat, still needs to work out, still has to figure out more matches, still has to pick up his boyfriend from the airport, still has to go grocery shopping, still has to repair the wall he accidentally broke yesterday. Yet he bites back a sob, curling in on himself as the tasks scream at him.
Soon he lets the tears pour down his cheeks, soaking into the pillow under him as he shakes, nails digging into his palms. Why can't he just get up, face the day like he always does. There's literally nothing preventing him from moving, yet the tears say otherwise. Helplessly he claws at his arms, feeling the skin raise under his unrelenting nails, turning bright red under his assault. Pleading desperately for it to do something .
Rocking back and forth under the blankets, wiping his tears away as fast as he can yet they pour out, he doesn't know what to do. Because Jon's going to need him soon, Darby needs to be there for him, he can't let him down. But he still can't get up, he can't even get himself to stop sobbing his heart out. And he hates it, he needs to do things, needs to move and be useful. Needs to not leave Jon alone.
The cloud weighing on him refuses to budge, won't go away no matter how much he tries to push it off. It should be so easy, just move his legs ninety degrees and set his feet on the ground. But it doesn't work. He pictures himself doing it, really thinks he will and even moves his leg a few inches. That's not enough. The edge of the bed is so far away, and he doesn't have the energy to traverse it.
He's practically worthless, useless, can't even do basic things right. Fully aware he can't give in to this, because if he does that means he can let things slide later on when he feels like this and he can't do that. But even the thought of doing anything more than lay there is too much. He knows he needs to at least call Jon, let him know he needs to find a different way home because Darby just can't do it today, but the phone is all the way across the room. Too far to reach.
Another swipe at the tears plaguing him, trying to force them down, away, feed them to the pit in his stomach in hopes of closing it. But it only makes the pit wider, sucking more of him into it and leaving him scrambling at the edges to not fall entirely. The worst part about it, he knows he's going to fail his boyfriend, not be there when he needs him. And it's all his fault, if only he could just fucking move.
A glance at the clock tells him he's fucking wasted an hour like this, he should already be up and about to leave by now. Jon lands in half an hour, and it's almost that to the airport. So Darby sighs and sits up, or at least tries to before it becomes too much. He wants to scream, normal people don't act like this, it isn't at all difficult to get up and be a good boyfriend. But the cloud over him smothers any attempt at leaving the nest he made himself.
Well now Jon's going to break up with him for being such a failure, look at him, the relentless Darby Allin beaten by getting out of bed for no reason at all. This time his sobs are dry, he's pretty sure he ran out of tears to cry. That doesn't matter, it's not going to let him go do what he needs to do. He glares daggers at his legs, desperately wanting, needing them to do what they're supposed to do. But there's an invisible weight tied to them, preventing them from doing anything no matter what he wants.
The black cloud sticks to him, he tries to fight it for a bit longer until he realizes all his attempts are futile, he's not going to be able to do what he needs to, the cloud wins. Darby curls up under the blankets as silent tears stream down his cheeks- he must have found some more in him. Now waiting in anticipation of the rage of his boyfriend, well, probably soon to be ex-boyfriend. He dreads the clock ticking the minutes by, if only he could have brushed the cloud aside.
All too soon though Darby knows over an hour has passed he hears the door open and heavy footsteps enter the house. Familiar, though the sinking in his stomach only gets wider and wider upon hearing them. He does his best to make himself look slightly less of a disaster, wiping away the tears that stubbornly refuse to go away, trying to remove the anguished look on his face.
"Darby? Where are you dear? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Jon's worried voice floats through the door, stabbing him in the heart. He doesn't answer, it's too dumb of a reason to not go get him, he can't face this. Contemplating whether or not he has enough time to climb out the window and escape the conversation, the door opens and light floods in, only blocked by the figure of a human.
"Are you sick?" Jon asks softly as Darby curls in on himself further, shaking his head and turning to face the other wall, unable to talk. If he does, he's worried he'll just start crying again and he can't do that to Jon. Distantly, he hears quiet footsteps come closer and a weight on the edge of the bed, then a hand on his shoulder. Instantly he flinches away from it, not wanting to taint his boyfriend with the cloud holding him hostage.
But Jon's persistent and Darby feels the hand on him again, fighting the instinct to chase the feeling, forcing himself to stay put. Until he feels himself getting lifted and he yelps, sitting in Jon's lap facing him. It's times like these when Darby hates being so much smaller, easy to manhandle, but staring at his boyfriend and seeing he's not angry settles a few of the many crows flying around in his stomach.
"What's wrong Darbs?" Jon whispers and pulls Darby closer, instantly the smaller man melting into his boyfriend's arms. It's hard to resist, and with his self control so weak, Darby can't help it. But he doesn't know how to put it into words, he wants to cry more but the feeling lays just out of reach.
"I… I don't know…" he mumbles and buries his face in his shoulder, clinging to him tight as he desperately hopes the cloud won't decide to take Jon with it too. A comforting touch travels his back and he tries to relax himself at least a little, knowing it won't do any good to stay this tensed up but it's hard to stop.
"Shh… it's okay Darbs…" the arms around him get tighter and the weight pressing on him gets a little lighter, a little easier to bear. He's not ready to talk about it, still doesn't know how to say it, but somehow against all odds Jon isn't furious with him. That helps, he might not lose him after all.
Suddenly he feels himself falling and he yelps, earning a quiet chuckle from the man now laying down with him on his chest. Darby blushes faintly and a ghost of a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, it's so much easier to do that when Jon's around. "I'm here Darbs, I'm not going anywhere. I love you."
"Love you too," Darby whispers against Jon's ear, moving his head down to rest on his chest. The familiar heartbeat calms him more, making sure he's not alone. Jon presses a gentle kiss to his forehead as he feels his eyelids slowly close, cloud still clinging to him, but it's easier to bear with the light on the other side of it.