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Having anxiety was bad enough; having anxiety while also going through a depressive phase was a whole other league of shit.
The worries were pelting Nathan like hail, melting into a sea in which he felt like he was drowning. Every little thing he said or did made him feel like he was pissing someone off, inconveniencing them. He felt like a waste of space. He felt like everybody hated him. Which, honestly, since he’d just started going to Blackwell, could’ve been true. Or false. Even when he was calm, steady, and logical, he didn’t know. He worked his ass off to establish himself in a hierarchy, as top dog, as unofficial leader of the most prestigious club in the school. It was likely true that more than a few people really did hate him. There was one person who didn’t take his shit or back down no matter how hard he tried. She climbed the hierarchy with him, by his side, and maybe that was why he’d let her start to weasel her way into his life. Which was fine.
Lord knows he needed someone to be there.
And maybe that was why, when Nathan was feeling his lowest of low, he found himself groveling to her room, knocking on her door, and cocooning himself in a blanket on her couch. He felt safe around her, probably too safe since at some point he slowly started to babble on and on about all the thoughts in his head. He told her about how he felt like a waste of space, of money, oxygen. He told her about how he was certain that almost every single person at Blackwell, hell, almost everyone he’d ever met, hated him.
“Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.” Victoria said it nonchalantly as glanced up at him before returning her attention back to her phone. She said it like it was an easy thing to do, like it wasn’t taking every ounce of Nathan’s willpower to not go off himself. She didn’t understand. No one did.
Nathan wanted to get up, walk away without saying anything. Or maybe, he’d say something clever before slamming the door. What he’d say, he wasn’t sure, but it would’ve been impactful whatever it was. But Nathan was at a low point, so low that he couldn’t muster up his usual façade of arrogance even if his life depended on it. So instead, he remained wrapped in Victoria’s throw blanket and did the only thing his body would allow him to do.
He cried.
It wasn’t that elegant soft crying as you throw yourself on the bed depression crying that you see on TV. It was large, hot, wet tears streaming down red cheeks. It was the kind of crying that sounded like it could turn to hyperventilation at any moment. It was the kind of crying the actually made Victoria put her phone down and realize that she might have just fucked up.
“Hey, Nathan, don’t cry,” Victoria pleaded as she went to join Nathan on the couch. “Please don’t cry.” The closest thing she had to a real friend, and she makes him start sobbing hysterically on her couch. Resplendent.
It wasn’t that she found him annoying, because she really didn’t. It was just that those thoughts echoed many of her own and she needed him to stop. She couldn’t bear to hear it. If people hated Nathan, who at least underneath it all was sweet and kind, how would people feel about her? She obviously wasn’t those things; she made a mentally ill person cry for fucks sake! She was awful.
It was then that Victoria, too, started to cry. It was also at that moment that something changed, because after they cried together, holding one another and trying to get the other to calm down, that they became inseparable. They were both messes, they knew, but at least they had each other.
Sometimes, just having someone is all you can ask for and it’s all you need.