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“Holy shit.”
Seven grumbled in embarrassment, pushing his head further into the pillow.
“I told you it was bad.” he moaned, heat already crawling up on the back of his neck.
Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the mess. Clothes for all kinds of occasions were spread out on the floor, you had to step on them to walk around. His gaming chair wasn’t looking any different, the seat having a noticeable bump indicating how long Seven had already sat on it. Trash scattered over the table that included his huge monitor with his rainbow led glowing Keyboard you found so funny the first time you saw it. Empty Takeout containers, soda cans, water bottles, dirty plates that still had ketchup smeared on them … it made you smile in an empathetic way.
This season must have hit him hard.
Slowly etching towards his curled up position on the bed, you minded your step on trying to walk on the small corners of the floor where clothes didn't cover it, to which you failed miserably. Small apologies left your mouth as you stepped on the mountain piles of weeks old clothing.
Seven told you about his Bipolar disorder months ago, but his depressive phases never usually looked like this. The first time you encountered him during a depressive phase he only had eye bags and smelled just a little funkier than he usually did — so this surprised you completely. But, to be fair, you’ve only started coming over to his own private dorm around a month ago, and you remembered him being very euphoric and happy during that time. So maybe he was like this all along, and you’ve only just encountered it now.
Empathy clouded your mind as you stared down at him, how he looked like a sad puppy that was ashamed of showing itself to his owner.
Gently reaching out your hand, you carefully touched his shoulder.
“Can I sit down next to you?”
Silence stretched out between the both of you, and you assumed Seven must have not heard you properly. Before you tried to repeat your question once again, he sighed barely audibly and nodded his head.
Your smile stayed gentle, lowering your body until you sat crisscrossed next to him, careful to mind his personal space as his entire body was still pushed into the mattress in fear of letting you see him completely. He hasn’t shaved his face in a month, and you knew how fast he grew facial hair — even if it pissed him off. You remember him telling you so proudly about how Noli envied him of his higher testosterone levels, but then again groaning in annoyance when his facial hair grew a little too much to his liking. Hypocrite much?
“Cmon Sev, talk to me.”
Seven only hummed.
“Just stay here.”
“I certainly can do that, but you still need to talk to me.”
He grunted in response, finally lifting his face out of the pillow he just snuggled it into to make eye contact. Blue orbs stared back at you, the way they were glossy didn't go unnoticed by you.
“Are you high right now?”
He made a face you could describe as confused and almost angry — like someone just accused him of something he didn't do.
Oh.
“I was crying, you asshole.”
Regret washed over you immediately. Was he sure that it was a good idea calling you, out of all the people here, to his dorm?
You probably just made everything worse.
Seven didn't like to admit it, but you were the closest friend he has ever had. Middle and Highschool was especially rough on him, never having any friends he could really trust and hang out with. So when you showed him the most basic sympathy a human could express, he was instantly fixated on you. Don't get him wrong, he still found other friends than you around here at some point — but you came before them. You held a special place in his heart, even if he blushed when admitting it out loud.
Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to spill down his rosy cheeks, pushing his head back into the pillow.
“Life isn’t worth it.”
You sighed. Here we go again.
“Did you see your therapist last week?”
Seven shook his head.
“Therapy just makes it worse. I can’t go to a session without feeling like shit after, I don’t want to go there anymore.”
New Bipolar Symptom: Age regression.
“Dude, I’m sorry but…that’s kind of the point. If you feel empty after talking about your problems and trauma then it means you’re doing the right thing. Even if it sucks.” you mumbled.
Anger raised inside of him. Why were you like this? You were supposed to be on his side. It took you four months to convince him to start seeing a therapist after he had a panic attack, saying you’d support him in everything he’d do. So why weren’t you being supportive now?! Quitting Therapy counts as everything too, doesn’t it?
“Just shut up. You’re so fucking stupid sometimes.”
You rolled your eyes at him, uncrossing your legs to start standing up from his bed. Being sad didn't give him the excuse to be rude to you, nonetheless insult you like he just did. If that’s how he wanted to repay you for your hard work, then so be it. He can deal with this himself. Why were you even still here?
The sound of quiet sobs stopped you in your tracks, your body freezing mid air.
Okay, nevermind.
Seven brought up a hand to dangle it in his greasy hair, fingering through the brown locks he usually tried to keep so clean and shiny just how you liked them. God, he really was a mess. He rolled onto his back, and only then did you finally get a good glimpse at how he currently looked. Hey, you recognised that red oversized shirt. Sev always wore that when he was bedrotting. You also recognised the black sweats he was wearing five weeks ago.
It was stupid, but seeing his pained expression, how he cried those salty tears made you feel almost maternal. Like you wanted to scoop him up into your palm and kiss away every tear that dared to leave his gorgeous eyes.
The scrunched up eyebrows, eyes that closed and reopened themselves again and again, how his lips almost sealed into a pout.
So cute.
“I…I just…” he sniffed.
Did admiring your best friend crying make you a jerk?
“I just don’t want to do this anymore. It-It hurts so much…and I don’t know why I’m feeling like this.”
Oh, Seven. Probably because you’re mentally ill.
You almost forgot how he insulted you just moments ago, and didn't care to ask him for permission when you scooted closer to him again. It seemed like he didn't care too, as he slightly shifted his body to be right next to yours — in your arms. Reaching out his hands, he almost made grabby hands like a baby. You had to suppress your surprised expression as you leaned down to engulf him into a hug.
He was so much warmer than usual. Poor thing must have felt like this way longer than you have had guessed. The closeness of your bodies sprawled a deep care of affection through your body, like flowers blooming at the start of April.
He never wanted it to stop. He wanted to cry his heart out in your embrace until he couldn’t breathe anymore. And did he start crying alright. The whimpers and whines leaving his mouth almost didn't sound like him, never in your life could you have imagined Seven being able to pitch his voice so high like he did right now.
He gripped your sweater, as if he was stabilising himself from falling into a deep pit of depression he already was in for a long time, ruffling and grabbing it like his life depended on it. The position was awkward, with you still trying not to crush him with your body weight on top of him, so you rolled down to the side to cuddle him just a little closer.
The both of you kind of looked like lovers, and in some kind of way, you wish you were. Even if you weren’t ready to properly think about those thoughts yet.
Seven seemed to have calmed down now, the cuddling successfully comforting him like you intended to do so. His head was neatly tucked into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the wetness of his dampened cheeks on your skin. Neither of you dared to speak first, only the small buzzing noise of his cheap heater being played in the background.
Now, your fingers instead of his eased themselves gently through his hair, indulging into a small session of playing with it. You didn't mind the grease, as you considered yourself lucky to be able to do this right now. If you really loved something, or someone, you had to love it in all of its phases, whether that be unkept for or fresh and styled.
The unusually gentle whisper of his voice seemed to make you shift your attention towards him again.
“I’m sorry for…saying that. I didn't mean it like that.”
You couldn’t help the slight grin that spread on your face.
“I know, Sev. You’re fine.”
He looked up at you, and couldn’t suppress his lips turning into a soft smile either when he saw your caring expression, wiping away the rest of his tears that only ran down to the middle of his cheek. His cheek was pressed against yours when he inched closer to you.
“Can you stay the night? I promise I'll clean up tomorrow.”
Seven must have taken you for an idiot if he thought you’d say no to that offer.
Tentatively pressing a kiss to his cheek, you hummed a soft tone of agreement and leaned your hand down to pull the discarded sheets over the both of you. You missed the way his breath hitched as he felt the soft pair of lips grazing his oh so unhygienic skin.
Sleepiness soon crawled all the way up into both of your bodies, creeping so close you could feel it in your bones. You could talk about it properly tomorrow.
and maybe even start thinking about what you’d call those thoughts of what you felt for him.