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Pressure is not something a human can endure. You are not diamonds beneath the earth’s surface, getting pressed with the weight of a thousand tons. You were made of easily broken bones, skin that cut from something as simple as paper, and hearts that were meant to pump you full of blood but ached instead.
You sat with a book in your room in your hand, your eyes moving across the paper. And yet none of the information stuck to your brain. Your mind had been wandering elsewhere, dominating every other thought.
You likened it to a parasite: it ate away at the things you’d rather focus on. It ate, and it ate, and it ate until there was nothing left. Every piece of information that came in was devoured by the notion that you weren’t doing what you should be. Being what you should be.
Expectations are a terrifying thing, and the worst of it is that any person you meet will have them for you. Professors who expect you to be at the top of your game constantly. Parents who expect you to meet your potential when, sometimes, you don’t even know what your potential is. Friends who expect you to be there so that they can reciprocate. Society that requests- no, demands- you adhere to their normalities lest you be looked at with disdain. Even yourself, with the expectation that you can do all this without eventually giving a piece of yourself away in the process.
That was the scary part. What will be left behind when you try to go above and beyond to be all the things people want from you? How much would you be willing to take out of yourself to be the exact person you should be? Why did you have to sacrifice anything at all?
You wondered if the things you were giving away would even be worth it. Sometimes you want to ask if you could peek in on your future to see if you are happy. Not content, not just surviving, but happy. Because if you weren’t purely happy, those losses weren’t worth the ache you felt right now.
You also wondered if it wasn’t just about giving yourself away. When you reflected further, sometimes it was like there were parts of you that you created with the sole purpose of doing things for others. The smile, the one you felt like you couldn’t rip from your face, was the worst of them.
They felt like another pair of lips modeled perfectly after your own glued on top of your real ones. Whoever created them had a skilled hand because they were so close to real-life that they fooled almost anyone who saw your grin. Or, you liked to think they did.
None of your friends seemed to notice the difference between the real and the fake, something you were grateful for. You didn’t know if you could properly explain how you felt without sounding completely stupid.
You felt silly, really. Everyone had a chip on their shoulder, so why were you letting yours weigh you down like this? You faced dangers on a near-daily basis, and you were letting expectations get the better of you? It felt idiotic, pathetic, even, when you thought about it.
Amid your rumination, you felt something press gently to the top of your head.
On instinct, you brought your hand up to remove what it was. Your fingertips were met with the comforting warmth of skin. You traced them over one of the fingers, feeling whoever had placed them there tense a bit before relaxing.
“I knocked,” Her voice came out unnaturally soft. “Don’t think you heard me.”
You finally glanced up at the Doctor, first catching the sight of the horizontal rainbow stripe across her shirt. You trailed your eyes up to hers. You expected them to be pinched with concern, and there was concern laced in those green beauties of hers. What overshadowed every other emotion in her expression was her unwavering sincerity.
“What’s wrong?” She asked. She rubbed her thumb across the back of your head. “And don’t say that book; I read it and it isn’t very thought-provoking.”
You let out a choked sort of laugh. You didn’t realize that tears had been waiting to burst out until you tried to speak. By the time you realized that they were falling, it was too late to stop them. You hated using cliches, but the stream of tears rushing from your eyes could only be compared to twin rivers with their fervor.
The Doctor circled from behind the couch where you sat and crouched in front of you. She took your hands, continuing the motion of rubbing her thumb against your skin as she had done moments earlier to your head.
Words got caught in your throat, overpowered by gasps and unattractive hiccups. You knew you looked a mess, with tears and snot running down your face, but you didn’t have anything in you to care too much about it. When you look back on this moment in a few hours, you could allow yourself the embarrassment of looking like a dribbling toddler in front of your crush. For now, you knew that the only way you could get this distress expelled from your body was by just crying.
At one point, you felt a bit bad. You were so caught up in letting your emotions out that you couldn’t answer the Doctor’s question. You knew that she was impatient, even if she would sometimes try to make herself out to be the most even-tempered creature in the universe. However, when you attempted to voice your apologies for taking so long to compose yourself, you were met with that gaze from earlier.
There was no judgment there, no frustration. You didn’t think there would be, but the same reasoning from earlier crept along your brain like the parasitic monster it was. The Doctor knew you to be a smiling, prevailing companion who went toe-to-toe with danger and took risks that she rather wished you didn’t. You weren’t someone who sobbed like this in front of others.
“I-I’m sor-ry,” You apologized with a strangled voice.
“No,” The Doctor shook her head, her voice firm. “No, there’s no need to apologize. None at all.”
You nodded, not fully believing the sentiment but not arguing with her on it. You glanced down, but you could see the Doctor move into your line of sight.
“I mean it,” She stated. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
A debate began to form in your head. The affirmative argued that you would feel several times better if you voiced how you were feeling. The Doctor would understand. She would be there for you like she always was when people needed her. However, the negative contended that burdening the Doctor with something as stupid as you worrying about expectations was a waste of her time. She had a billion other things to worry about, and a human experiencing something as simple and universal as pressure wasn’t one of them.
The Doctor remained quiet, allowing you to make the decision. You knew she wouldn’t leave you alone until you voiced your answer. If yes, she would listen. If not, she would go at whatever pace you needed while still trying to help in any way she could. That’s just who she was.
“I, um,” You stammered. You shook your head, clearing yourself of the excess thoughts. “It’s just… I feel like I’m not going to be able to live up to the things I should…”
Understanding dawned on her face. You couldn’t quite read into that expression; if it was understanding in the sense that she could empathize or understand, she realized what your problem was and figured out how inconsequential it was. You knew it wasn’t the latter, but your own thoughts can be cruel. And, because they’re your own thoughts, you can be inclined to believe them.
“Y-You know what, it-it doesn’t matter, I’m just-”
“Hey, hey, hey,” The Doctor put her hands on your face to keep your shaking head from avoiding her gaze. “It does matter. It’s hurting you. Why do you not think you can’t live up to your potential, hm?”
“I just… I don’t know, I feel like… There’s all these expectations people have of me. And it’s like, duh, everyone has expectations of everyone. That’s just the way- I don’t know, anyway- But they feel so heavy and I don’t know how to deal with it. I-If I don’t do what I’m supposed to, does that mean I’m not going to live up to my potential? Am I just stuck… here?”
“Well, there’s your issue!” The Doctor smiled. “You think that what people expect from you ties to your self worth. Just because you might be able to do what others want, doesn’t mean that you aren’t living up to your best. If you really wanna know something, I have a pretty good idea of who you’re gonna be. You wanna know?”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
You were curious. The Doctor was someone you admired in many different ways, some that you voiced and others you kept locked away. She would be another person with beliefs for you that you would have to add to the seemingly never ending list, but at least she was one who you knew had your best at hearts.
“Don’t know!” The Doctor shrugged. “That’s not up to me. That’s not something for other people to decide. It’s up to you, and only you But! What I can tell you is what I see right now. And that’s someone who’s already kind, amazing, brave, and far too stubborn, I mean really. I swear, the next time you try to throw yourself into dangerous like you did when we were on Alodae you will be TARDISbound for a-”
The beginning of a rant that you knew wouldn’t end until she saw fit was cut off by your laugh. The wild, free sound caused the Doctor to smile along with her. Her own giggles mixed with the uncontrolled laughter falling from your mouth. If there was a sound you wish you could play on repeat, it was this one.
“Really,” The Doctor softly spoke when the laughter died down. “You’re a wonderful little human. Yes, you should try to be the best person you can be, but who that person is is for you to decide. Okay?”
“Okay. How did you know I was in here? It’s like you came in at the perfect time.” You asked, somewhat joking.
You didn’t think she would actually have an answer ready for you. “You’ve been out of sorts lately. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Can’t have my human sad; it’s against my rules.”
“You have those?” You scoffed lovingly.
She knew. Even when you believed that you were doing so good at pretending, she knew. You knew it was probably because she had thousands of years of experience and could recognize these things in anyone. But, a more romantic part of you wanted to think it was just because she knew you. It was a nice thought, one you didn’t know if you should allow yourself the pleasure of thinking.
You thought this would be it, that she completed her job in making sure her companion was well and go back to whatever she had been doing before. However, she lifted the blanket you had thrown about your lower half and sat beside you. Her legs pressed against yours, and you felt your face warm from the contact, even if only through the fabric.
“How far along did you get in?” She asked, picking up the book.
“Um,” You blinked. “I think… about 120?”
She flicked through the book until she landed on the page you had stared at for too long. Her voice filled the room as she read the words you couldn’t. As she did, without looking at you, she placed her arm around your back, bringing your head to her shoulder. Her hand, still so warm, stayed softly pressed to the crown of your head. You glanced up at her as the Doctor pressed a kiss to your forehead.
Humans could not endure pressure. They are fragile, breakable creatures. Yet the pressure of her body against yours, her hand on your head, was a pressure you’d winningly bare for as long and she'd allow.