Work Text:
The day had been dragging, every tick of the clock seemingly slower than the last. Chest heavy, weighed down by a week—or more—of relentless, nagging thoughts. They weren’t anything new, but they had built up to a suffocating point. The creeping anxiety, the endless swirl of thoughts whispering that everything I was doing wouldn't matter. Every draft, every flyer, every effort to make an impact with the Frowning Friends felt smaller and smaller, like a drop in a bottomless bucket.
What if it wasn’t good enough? What if I messed everything up? It would only take one wrong move, after all.
Those thoughts, relentless and consuming, left me absolutely drained. Sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my tablet, the lines on my current sketch blurring into meaninglessness. It was there, and it looked good, sure. But it didn't have feeling behind it. It looked empty and artificial. My hand hovered over the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything. It felt pointless.
Gnarly walked into the room, a half eaten bag of chips in hand. He paused mid-chew, his sharp eyes flickering over to me as he noticed me slumped over my work.
“Yo,” he called out, tossing the bag onto the table. “What’s with the zombie act?”
"Hm?" an immediate response, autopilot. I shook my head, barely registering his voice, and mumbled, “I’m fine.”
Gnarly narrowed his eyes, his boots thudding on the hardwood floor as he stepped closer. “Yeah, sure you are."
Crouching down to my level, he snapped his fingers a few times in my face, making me flinch. "I think you've been starting at that thing for like... ten minutes.”
Gently, I swatted his hand away.
“I’m just tired,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s a lot to do, and I’ve been—”
“Stop,” Gnarly cut me off, his tone unusually firm. “You’re not fooling anyone- definitely not me.”
I grimaced, the blunt tone making my stomach twist. This guy didn't know what he was talking about. And I didn't like the way he said it almost convinced me that he did. Deep breath, funny joke. “I'm fine, okay? Just... Having my bimonthly anxiety induced episode. It'll go away."
“It’s burning you out, though,” Gnarly said, leaning against the desk. “And that's not good. Your whole vibe’s off.”
My vibe? Ew. I frowned, hunching over my tablet. “I can handle it.”
"Handle what, losing your shit?" he replied, an air of tease in his voice. "You're no use to anyone like this."
"I've been through way worse. Chill, Gnarly." I rubbed the bridge of my nose with the side of my finger, taking a long sigh.
“Yeah, no,” Gnarly said, standing up and crossing his arms. “Grim!”
My eyes widened and my heart dropped. I kept glancing between him and the doorway, hearing Grim's footsteps coming closer.
"You're snitching on me!?"
From the other room, Grim’s familiar scowl appeared, his sharp gaze flicking between the two of us. “What now?”
Gnarly gestured to me, pointing at me with his thumb. “Take her home. She needs a break.”
“What?” I blurted, sitting up straight. “Hold on, I don’t need a break.”
Gnarly shrugged, clearly unbothered by my protest. “You’re totally out of it, man. Running on fumes. Look at you.”
My face twisted into exasperation, gently scoffing under my breath. I looked over at the shorter critter for help. "Grim."
Grim raised an eyebrow at me, crossing his arms. He didn't have to say anything, because we both knew he would already side with Gnarly.
“Grim, I’m fine,” I insisted, my voice wavering slightly.
He sighed, clearly annoyed, but not at me. “You’re not. And if Gnarly’s saying it, it’s bad.”
I hesitated, torn between my pride and the nagging truth of their words. Seriously? They weren't letting up.
Who ARE these critters? Since when did they care? I wanted to say something, to protest again, to tell them I was fine for the millionth time, but they wouldn't stop staring. Their gazes were serious this time. And that made my stubbornness falter.
Finally, I sighed, rolling my head. “You guys are literally ganging up on me."
Gnarly grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “You're welcome. Go home and come back when you’re actually with us.”
Grim gestured for me to grab my things, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I looked down at my desk, my nose scrunching. I.. Lost. To these two. And they wanted me to feel better. That was so gross.
"This is crazy," I mumbled, reluctantly shoving my stuff into my backpack, "Actually insane."
Despite my stubbornness, I followed, knowing deep down that they were right. As much as I hated being pulled away from my work, the thought of someone caring enough to step in—to force me to take care of myself—made the dread in my chest feel just a little bit lighter. Even if it felt like the corniest thing in existence. At least I have an excuse to sleep in all day.