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She sat on the couch, curled up in a corner while 'The Office' continued playing on the telly. She'd been mindlessly scrolling on her phone all day, not really noticing anything on there but not wanting to look away from a screen. Then she might see the real world for all it was, and today wasn't the time for that.
Y/N glanced at Michael Scott as he put on a stupid hat to impress some stupid friend of Pam's. She felt a tension in her shoulders, along her back and arms, but she tried to ignore it. Tried to bury herself amongst the blankets and pillows of the couch. It wasn't working, why wasn't it working?
She adjusted her pillows, and nothing. She got bored of the Instagram reels that always turned into mommy bloggers she didn't like to see. The telly grew louder and she suddenly found Michael Scott bordering on obnoxious and not funny. The room was so goddamn warm in there but she knew she couldn't change from her comfy clothes because she didn't want to wear a bra. If she changed into something remotely hugging her figure, she'd feel as though she had to wear a bra and start the day. It was so fucking stupid the way her brain was wired.
She tried to ignore it.
Then she got a sudden pang of guilt, a feeling that was brewing at the surface but she tried to shove down. She worried that everyone at work would absolutely hate her for not coming in. That they'd know she was lying about being sick and think she was a terrible worker, that she didn't provide anything, she was incompetent and slow and everyone was wondering why she couldn't get her fucking act together. She worried that when she wasn't there they'd be saying awful things. How stupid she was, how needy and desperate for attention and validation and pathetic.
The voices came whirring at her. She hadn't even realized they'd been speaking this entire time until they all started screaming at her. The voices battered like a ram, tore through her chest, attacking and spitting venomous words. Her lungs seemed to recede inside her, clenching for an oxygen that wasn't there. Suddenly her vision was blurring, hiccups came bursting from her lips in broken sobs and she could feel that heaviness in her chest like her heart was going to explode. She couldn't breathe with that weight, there was no oxygen. Y/N felt as though her skin was itchy and thin and it just wouldn't come off. If she could tear it all off to make it go away she would.
The loudest voice screamed out, "Everyone hates you! You are the worst human to exist and we wish you would just die already!" Her fingers buried in her hair, holding the roots tightly and her cheeks were burning hot. She wanted to scream but didn't have the energy. The voice kept screaming and screaming, "they hate you, they hate you, they hate you! You're the worst person ever!"
And it's all true, that's the most despicable part. She believed every foul thing that voice said was right in the truest sense of the word. No logic could stop her brain from believing that she was stupid and slow and incompetent.
She believed all the things they said, that she was fat and ugly, and her nose wasn't right, her skin wasn't right, her stomach was horrendous, she could never be beautiful or sexy or smart. She ruined every chance she had for it, and one day Alec was going to see how horrific she was and he'd flee. He'd spout viscous things and they would be right. She deserved all of it and worse. There was no man that deserved the hell she provided, she was the worst it could get.
Then she kept chiding herself, trying to stop this delusion she was building in her mind. She'd say, Y/N, that's not fair, you've worked on this. Y/N, you're on medication, this shouldn't be how you think. You're better now. Y/N, talk yourself out of it. Y/N, you're jumping to conclusions. And all the while she's sinking and building evidence to false realities. She wonders if she's insane, if she should be locked up then has to remind herself she's not Joe Miller. But a wicked part of her wishes she was, so these feelings would be justified.
There was no way to explain this to friends and family. No way to explain that this was her thoughts almost all the time, and the times she wasn't thinking like this it was lying low. But it never left. But everyone had depression these days, she wasn't unique. And if everyone else could live, then surely she could to.
She retracted her fingers from her hair, prying off the strands that came with it. Her cheeks were still painfully hot but she wiped the tears away. Michael Scott was still doing something stupid on the telly, and she had her phone on her lap. She wanted to call Alec. He'd said to call if she felt anything, said he wanted to be there for her. But wouldn't this be a burden? Wouldn't he find her repulsive after this? Not want to deal with it. She didn't want to either. She didn't want to deal with this anymore, she was so tired. And surely Alex's life would be easier with one less person to deal with? With one less mess to clean up, no worrying about her.
But it was those thoughts that forced her to call him. She knew that those thoughts were bad, that those thoughts led to bad things. And though she was humiliated, wanted to hide away from him, she knew it was for him she had to call. He'd be so hurt if she left. He'd blame himself, and that wasn't fair.
"Darlin?" His voice filled the silence.
Her breath shuddered and she sniffled like a baby, "Alec."
"What's happened?" His voice was stern, alert. With that one word he sensed that she wasn't okay.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing."
She let out a pathetic laugh, "no, Alec. I don't want you to worry."
"I'll be there in 15." Then he hung up. She gaped at the phone. Y/N didn't want Alec to see her like this, so broken and battered. He didn't deserve this.
Her heart started to race and she treated every sound as a threat. She looked horrible, she was certain her breath stank and her cheeks were flushing and her hair was going every which way. She looked fat and greasy, her clothes had stains. Oh God, oh God.
The door opened with no preamble. She shut her eyes and waited for him to yell, to be furious that there was no true emergency. It's not like she'd cut herself. There were footsteps and then the couch beside her dipped, but she felt no touch.
"Darlin?" Alec spoke softly, his accent sliding through her flat. Michael Scott seemed a distant image. "Are you alright?"
She didn't want to open her eyes. As childish as it was, she felt that if she didn't seem him then the issue was resolved. "I'm fine."
There was a pause, "May I see your beautiful eyes?"
With a shaky breath, she peaked through her lashes at Alec. He was sat beside her, brows furrowed in concern as he looked at her. His coat had raindrops on it, his hair mused and looking like chocolate. His beard needed to he shaved but she hated when he did. And in those stupid, beautiful brown eyes, she saw a love so raw and unconditional she couldn't stand it.
Tears fell down her cheeks and her hands went back to her hair. She could feel herself retreating, curling into a hall and away from the world that hated her. But Alec was so soft.
"Darlin, can I touch you?"
She whimpered a yes.
Warm, calloused hands came to her own in her hair. The touch was not harsh, yet it wasn't shy either. Alec wanted to love Y/N and keep her safe, even if it meant from herself. He brought them down, holding them firmly. Then he lifted her chin so she would look at him. Her lips began to quiver.
"How long has it been since you've showered?"
The question caught her off guard. She'd expected him to pry into what she was feeling and tell her why all of it was wrong and he loved her. Which was incredibly sweet, but would have hurt her so much. She'd feel like a burden. But this wasn't what she anticipated. "Uh, um, a few days."
"Do you care to take a shower with me?" He smiled, his Scottish accent lilting the words. "I need one from the rain."
She nodded nimbly. Alec got up from the sofa first, then helped her up though she didn't need it. They walked to her bedroom, where Alec went through her drawers to find a clean pair of underwear and pajamas. She felt her heart smile when he pulled one of his shirts she'd stolen as her top. He had his own pair kept in her drawers as well.
Alec walked softly as he went and turned the shower on, letting the water patter against the tile.
"Y/N, do you think we could take your dirty clothes off?" Alec asked, letting the tiniest of smiles cross his face. She'd learned to cherish that look, because it wasn't one many got. But right now, she felt selfish for getting to see it when she didn't earn it. Y/N nodded.
He helped take off her pajamas, each piece with care and precision. She felt like she was a wounded animal he was bringing back to life. That guilt forged its way in her heart. Alec placed a hand on her hip, the other on the back of her neck. Though she was naked, and he was about to be, it wasn't sexual in nature. It was intimate, and loving. Alec's voice was rough as he grumbled out, "Now you stop that bad thought. I love you as you are."
Her lips parted and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, she hadn't said a word. But Alec just pressed a kiss to her forehead. Soon they were both naked and they got into the steaming shower. Alec let her stand under the warmth, hands stroking her sides in ginger caresses. He was just appreciating her as she was.
Alec couldn't pretend to understand exactly what went through Y/N's head. It wouldn't be fair to her. But he did know that he loved her deeply, and that no matter what he'd stay with her. If she didn't know who she was, he would remind her if only for a moment to be with her.
With his long, dexterous fingers, he washed Y/N's hair. She stood awkwardly, letting it rain over her. It felt nice. The little pelts of hot water had a steady rhythm, only interrupted by Alec’s kind hands massaging her scalp. She felt the tears slip down her face in steady streams, but didn’t bother to hide them.
Alec quickly shampooed his own hair, then took his time with the body wash to take care of Y/N. He lavished her but in the most sincere way a person could. No agenda, just making sure that with each part of her body he cleaned that she knew he loved her. And she did, she knew he loved her more than anything. That’s what made it so hard.
The water ran lukewarm and Alec got out quickly to wrap a big, fluffy towel around her. He helped dry her with the towel, helped her into her pajamas.
“You want braids, love?”
“You know how to braid?” Her voice sounded so small. Alec nodded and parted her wet hair, french braiding it out of her way. His fingers were nimble.
“Come on, darling, let us get something to eat.”
Alec walked with her down the stairs, going into her fridge until he found some ingredients to make omelets, which he knew she liked. With gentle hands, Alec came and placed Y/N on the counter so she could be right there as he made the food.
“Cheese?”
“Yes please.”
It was a quiet sort of appreciation with Alec. Y/N could tell he wanted to blurt out his love but this quiet approach, this simply taking care of her, hit a part of her heart she didn’t know it would hit. She could feel her soul opening just slightly. He couldn’t fix her, that wasn’t how this worked, but she could feel him loving her.
He helped down from the counter and brought the plates to the sofa. Alec put on a different sitcom, gave her the plate, and settled in.
After a pause where she stared at the plate and wondered the different ways she could jump off the earth, she said, “You don’t have to stay.”
“I’d like to,” he said with a bite of omelet.
“I don’t want you to stay.” The words were harsh, and untrue, but the humiliation of being this way made her angry. She wanted to lash out at him if it could only take away from the pain in her heart.
“Tough luck, darling. I’m here to stay.”
That was when the sob broke out. A deep, heart wrenching sob that make the plate fall to the floor, carpet covered in a cheesy omelet he had just made for her. Y/N covered her mouth as though the sounds would stop but they didn’t.
Alec came and scooped her up, letting her rest on his lap, head on his shoulder. He hummed just slightly, hands running comforting strokes on her body, lips kissing her forehead.
“You don’t deserve this,” she hiccuped. “You don’t deserve this mess.”
Alec looked down and grabbed her chin, forcing him to look at her. “Y/N, you listen to me. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t choose to have depression, you didn’t choose it.”
“But you can choose. You need to leave, you deserve-”
“I want you. I want you, Y/N. I don’t care about this, we’ll fight it together.”
“Why do you want this? I’m broken.”
He brought her hand and let it rest on his heart, above his scar. “So am I, Darlin. You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive.”
She cried softly onto Alec, and he held her all the same. It didn’t get better like that, but it seemed to help cement something in Y/N. Alec wasn’t going anywhere, and she wasn’t alone. The dog days will be over, and the horses will come. Alec kissed her forehead and held her close.