Work Text:
Lost in thought, instead of paying attention to all the papers messily scattered across the wooden floor, slightly dirtying their project with the dust that had accumulated between the boards after thousands of nights of procrastinating, avoiding properly cleaning the floor. That was Kris’s current state, who decided it had been enough studying for the night—or at least, a lame attempt at doing so, devoting the rest of their time at doing absolutely nothing, lying between the forgotten stack of papers.
Kris put the cap back on the yellow highlighter, the culprit of their most recent headache. The garish color hadn't helped them remember any of their notes, now streaked in fluorescent ink, resembling more a kid’s homework. Bored, Kris gave up on searching for entertainment and uncapped the highlighter again. Its triangular shape, containing all the ink, fascinated them. Mesmerized by what felt like the discovery of the century, they absentmindedly fidgeted with it, focusing on its strange texture as they ran their index finger over it, leaving a shiny trail that mocked the darkness of the room.
It definitely wasn't adequate to have a cheap night lamp barely held together with tape and prayers. And, to make matters worse, instead of a real fireplace, their old laptop had been placed in front of their workspace… if you could really call it that… playing a random video showing a clearly artificial, computer-generated fire. A poor substitute, a far cry from the imposing flames they wished to be there. The whole environment lacked credibility, and its lighting was hardly ideal for a study session.
However, that tranquil song deserved some credit for fulfilling its purpose: helping Kris stay calm. Stay consistent? No, that was a whole separate issue, and a vaguely familiar tune from another similar video was not what their brain needed to focus. Defeated, but slightly less frustrated than before, Kris capped the highlighter again and tossed it aside without a second thought.
Unconsciously, their fingers began to drum along to the rhythm of the song, losing themselves in their own imagination to pretend they were sitting at their piano instead of “finishing” an assignment for the next day, that their eyes were appreciating the black and white keys instead of tedious sheets of paper with perfect handwriting and orthography. Their soul would rather losing track of time by playing their cherished instrument, instead of gritting their teeth while writing words that barely made sense.
No matter how much they made sure the details were accurate, and the fluidity with which they expressed themselves was at least decent enough in the eyes of the professor—who would not read their work thoroughly, but pretend to do so—, the feeling that something was missing, kept gnawing at them, stuck in their head with no hope of tearing it out. They were eager to improve what was already perfect, to fix something that wasn't even broken, to find unacceptable imperfections that didn't meet their high standards... and to eliminate them, of course, because they couldn't afford to waste time thinking about trivial matters when there was so much to fix.
God, there was so much they needed to fix.
Firm footsteps could be heard approaching their room, growing louder as the creature responsible for the sound drew nearer. Kris remembered that this creature had previously mentioned wanting to try a new way of preparing hot chocolate, which would surpass any high-quality hot chocolate found in the finest coffee shops around the world. The Perfect Chocolate for sleepless nights thanks to teachers who decided to take out their anger by assigning long, meaningless assignments with little time to complete them. The Perfect Chocolate piqued Kris's curiosity after hearing strange noises in the kitchen, which at some point was a mess of pots and pans falling to the floor. Kris would have to fix that.
The Perfect Chocolate and its creator finally arrived at their shared room, where the drink spread its soft, delicious aroma through the cold winter air that seeped in through the half-open windows; no hot drink Kris had consumed during their nights and early mornings spent enjoying research and topics that did not interest them, had managed to pull them out of their annoying trance, much less delight them with an aroma as pleasant as that of the liquid quietly stored in Susie's mug. It still bore a poor-quality image of something that kind of looked like, but was not, a kaiju crushing a burning building. Clearly, that image fit the holiday. Who cares if not? Susie loves her mug, and she’s happy using it every day.
A noisy “ah” proved her satisfaction after drinking from her powerful, mouthwatering Christmas beverage. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, a Christmas beverage. She decorated it with little pine tree shaped marshmallows and candy canes, floating and bumping into each other as if they were enjoying a day at the beach, playing with the chocolatey waves. Said waves return when Susie rushes in a little more, invading Kris's personal space by sitting next to them in front of the totally natural fire in the completely real fireplace. Susie lets out a laugh, which quickly fades from her face when she sees the disastrous state of the corner Kris was using, and the highly noticeable gray eye bags. She swore their eyes lit up when they spotted her.
“Well, tastes good,” Susie licked her lips, getting rid of any chocolate mustaches, “considering my lack of experience in, uh, cooking Christmas food or whatever.”
Before Kris could even think about using their “cute puppy dog eyes” that would probably help them get a little taste of the forbidden dessert, Susie warned them about the high sugar, caffeine, and other unknown, suspicious substances in her creation, also reminding them that it was past their bedtime and the last thing she wanted was to make her partner’s insomnia worse.
Yes, they had a project to finish, yes, it was urgent, but they couldn't force themselves to work if their brain couldn't even process the words coming out of their mouth or what they were writing. However, this would not convince Susie, and she made it crystal clear.
Receiving a disappointed whimper in response, she rolled her eyes.
“Aight, stop, you sad mutt.”
She sipped from her cool mug, grinning pridefully at her hard work, so proud of it that she would have patted herself on the back if she had the chance and it didn't look like a comical attempt to scratch her back. The marshmallows were mercilessly devoured by the sharp teeth of the hungry monster, starving for fluffy Christmas treats, melting in her mouth with a single bite. Kris turned their body toward her and applauded with a smile characteristic of a proud father, only Kris wasn't the father but Susie's partner.
That was completely unnecessary.
Eventually, Kris managed to convince the creator of the Perfect Chocolate to give them a free sample, even if it was less than half a cup and had some remnants of Susie's saliva in it. An indirect kiss, how romantic. Kris smiled at this thought, accepting the delightful gift from the girl they cherished most in their life, savoring every drop of chocolate the mug had to offer. Such was the enthusiasm that they dipped their index finger into the bottom of the mug, rescuing the leftover powder and melted fudge that would not be wasted by the thirsty human who loved this exclusive drink. Not only because it came from Susie, but because it genuinely tasted pretty good.
“How?” It was nothing more than a rhetorical question, as they never doubted her ability to succeed when she set her mind to something.
“Heh, I’m just cool like that.”
Kris is startled for a second when they notice an extra weight on their head, but then relaxes when they remember that Susie had a habit of resting her chin there just because, and also because it felt comfortable for both of them. This way, they can share body heat without needing an overwhelming amount of physical contact or intimacy.
For the first time during the night, Kris allowed themself to relax without feeling irresponsible or guilty for abandoning the project that had previously had them contemplating the best way to throw themselves out of the window, replacing those unpleasant thoughts with happier ones, filled with Susie and a sense of calm.
They were grateful Susie didn't comment on their bloodshot eyes (courtesy of hours of sobbing quietly so as not to bother her, and a lack of proper sleep), the dark circles under their eyes, which became increasingly noticeable as the semester progressed, or their gaunt appearance, with a frail and thin body that contradicted their constant assurances that they were taking care of their health.
Nor did she question the unfinished work after listening for three weeks straight to frustrated complaints and rants about the deadline, the ridiculousness of the topic they had to write about, and how annoyed they were with the classes that drained their energy with every pointless lecture where they barely learned anything, and how this semester was the most depressing and exhausting one yet.
Their teammates never wanted to submit their part on time, often cancelling meetings at the last minute with idiotic excuses, and turning up their noses at any advice from Kris. This childish and discourteous attitude always forced the human to figure things out on their own, without any outside help other than their girlfriend when she knew about the subject. They needed encouragement, constructive criticism from others, they needed help.
Said help was always welcomed during their depressive episodes, periods of burnout, or severe pain in random parts of their body that felt like they were specifically designed to ruin their life, reminding them of their delicate health condition.
No medication, therapy, or coping mechanism would be a long-term solution.
Are they really that screwed up? Is there no other way to motivate themself, an alternative to escapism or temporary relief?
Motivation. Ah, how much they needed it.
A good reason, a why that explains why they put up with so many sleepless nights and frustrated sobs, staining their research and documents with their tears because it was just too much and this was all getting too overwhelming, and why did they choose this career when they could have gone down a path that didn't use their mental health as a punching bag and didn't get them this sick after being under stress for too long, all this time they could have spent on any other productive activity related to their studies or the responsibilities that came with their studies or—
“Hey, Kris.”
A red mug, decorated with silly stickers that were barely recognizable, faded by time, was also filled with the exclusive Perfect Chocolate that made their mouth water the moment their eyes fell on it. Their drink clearly had more marshmallows and extra chocolate compared to the one from the other cup, and they silently thanked her for the thoughtful gesture. Without wasting another second, Kris held the cup in their hands, not caring that the ceramic was boiling hot and that they would burn their throat as soon as the liquid entered their mouth. It felt delicious, therapeutic, even, considering the side effects it brought with itself: a moment to truly relax, a peculiar but much-appreciated Christmas flavor, a way to feel cared for.
The hot drink served as a manifestation of her sincere and unique way of loving without the need for words. It was a reminder that their girlfriend is willing to pick them up whenever they fall, make them smile when they are in a bad mood because of work or their studies, help them, listen to them, be there for them, whatever they need. Making eye contact for the first time all night, a tired but sincere smile escaped their lips after murmuring a barely audible “thank you,” which was nonetheless heard by Susie.
The dragon resting peacefully on their head dropped its entire weight onto their body, bellowing with satisfaction. A little further back, something that was definitely not a tail wagged happily, thumping loudly against the carpet and Susie's wool sweater. Kris closed their eyes and snuggled closer to their partner, their mind completely blank except for the sounds coming from the creature resting on their head and the soothing song playing on the computer.
“Feeling better now?”
Kris answered with a “hmm,” taking another sip, this one slower and more deliberate than before.