Work Text:
If Angela's mind didn't currently feel like a dense fog had settled in, obscuring her clear thoughts, the irony of this situation probably would have made her laugh.
The alarm siren on roller skates, the feral guinea pig, the sixteen year-old Italian girl who just found out someone has a crush on her - the loud one, in other words - having a meltdown at work because there was too much noise around her? It was almost funny, if it didn't feel so utterly devastating.
With every step she takes, her breathing becomes more rapid. Angela doesn't know where she's going, she just needs to leave - all of it, Shayne's laugh, the stupid bright lights on set, the conversations overlapping, the squeaky sounds of Courtney's new fucking shoes, it's too much and she can't handle it and she doesn't want to fucking handle it so after minutes that feel like hours, she leaves without another word. And she doesn't care that people ask her if she's okay and she doesn't care that people are yelling her name, she just needs to get the fuck out of that room and go anywhere else.
Angela clenches her fists so hard that her knuckles turn white and when she sees the door of the gender-neutral bathroom, she practically sprints towards it and locks the door immediately when she's inside, sliding down to the floor and letting her head fall back against the door. Finally, a gross amount of the noise has stopped. Angela's breathing is still frantic, there are still tears pricking her eyes, she's burying her fingernails in the skin of her left arm and yeah, it hurts, but it's better than wanting to - "Hey, Ang? You in there?"
Angela instantly recognized Amanda's voice. She squints hard and takes a few slow breaths, trying to steady herself.
"Y-yeah," she responds.
"Arasha saw you go in...you okay? Shayne said you stormed off the set. Can I come in?"
"I'm - I'm not..."
There's a few seconds of silence. Angela doesn't know what to say. She doesn't want Amanda to see her like this, she wants to be okay for Amanda.
After taking a few seconds to calm down, it feels like her breathing has returned to normal. Close enough, anyway.
"I'm kinda...fuck, it was just, uh. Really loud out there."
"Okay, well...I'll just stay out here, if you want?"
Angela wipes the tears off her face and her grip around her arm loosens up: "I don't - you don't have to do that."
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I get it. But, um. I wanted to tell you about the new Dateline episode anyway. So, you know. Could do that right now. Seriously, I've been wanting to talk to someone about it for like, ever. But it's not the same with other people. So, you know. I'd totally love to tell you about it."
Angela chuckles lightly, too quiet for Amanda to hear, and checks her arm. She's not bleeding. There are marks, but Angela knows they're not permanent.
"You sure?"
"Hell yeah! You're my true crime buddy, man."
Angela bites her lip and looks down: "Yeah. Yeah, okay, that sounds cool."
Amanda sits down on the other side of the door and leans her head against it, a relieved smile on her face.
If she could make Angela feel better by telling her about true crime, God, she'd describe gruesome murders for hours for her in a heartbeat.