Patsy felt the lump rise in her throat at the opening notes of the battle theme. Predictable. Too easy. She shouldn't really be watching this film, there were too many moments that threatened to make her cry at the best of times. But right now pretty much anything could make her cry. Even videos of excited puppies. However, this film took very little brain power to watch as she'd watched it so many times over the years. And for once maybe a good cry would actually help.
Yeah right.
Fuck, she desperately hoped this black cloud hanging over her head was just hormones and not the start of something more sinister. She'd barely been able to move from her huddled position on her tiny single bed since she'd got home.
The doorbell rang downstairs. No doubt Trixie was wasting more of her godmother's money on Deliveroo. She was vaguely aware of the front door opening and closing, but the battle on her laptop screen was intensifying so she let her brain switch off.
But apparently she wasn't allowed that luxury tonight because there was a knock at her door.
"No Trixie." Her housemate had a nasty habit of checking in on her when she sensed she was low, which yes she was grateful for, but her brusque and breezy manner only rubbed her up the wrong way when she was like this.
"It's not Trixie," came a familiar Welsh lilt through the fibreboard.
Patsy groaned into her pillow. For fuck's sake. She hit pause on her laptop and hauled herself off the bed. Opening the door, she glowered at the petite brunette standing outside it. "I told you not to come over tonight." She trudged back to the bed, flopping down heavily onto the mattress, not caring whether Delia stayed or left.
"Actually, you said 'Don't bother. Bad company.'" The door clicked shut. "And seeing as I am always delightful company I could only assume you meant you were bad company, so I thought I'd come and balance it up." The younger woman sat down on the bed and placed her hand on Patsy's knee, her thumb idly stroking the seam of her track suit bottoms. "But if you want me to go then I will."
Patsy shrugged.
Delia leant over, presumably to get a better look at her face. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Patsy stated flatly, eyes fixed on the still paused laptop screen. She could feel Delia watching her. She knew what was coming.
"Ok," Delia trilled lightly as she shrugged, before lying down with her back to Patsy, pulling the redhead's arm around her middle. "Ooo Gladiator! I love this film." She tapped the space bar and snuggled back against Patsy.
Well, she had not expected that, Patsy mused. The usual response to her refusal to talk about it was insistence that she really should talk about it. Things wouldn't get better if she kept it all bottled up. How were they supposed to help if she wouldn't tell them what was wrong?
What no-one seemed to understand was that there was rarely 'something wrong'. Words just didn't apply to her situation most of the time because although dark thoughts did occur in these moments, more often it was white noise that accompanied the heaviness and the lethargy. Words never helped with these feelings, they couldn't dispel the little black rain cloud that followed her around.
At school they'd nicknamed her Eeyore. But the difference between her and the toy donkey stuffed with sawdust was he was capable of being sociable despite his gloominess, his friends still wanted him around even if he wasn't bright and cheery. But once people expended their early efforts to 'help' Patsy they more often than not gave up on her entirely.
Her romantic involvement with Delia was still fairly new, they'd known each other a while but had only been dating for four months, and so far Patsy's depressive episodes had kept their distance. And so far she'd managed to shield Delia from her turbulent moods around this time of the month, but today she had failed. Or at least the energy needed to protect the younger woman had failed.
And yet here she was, cuddled up to her despite her frosty reception, not even attempting to make Patsy talk. She was just…here. Maybe Delia was one of the rare ones who understood.
Maybe for once she didn't need to be lonely under her little black rain cloud.
The thought was like a punch to the solar plexus. Lonely. That's what she'd been for too many of her formative years. She didn't want to be lonely anymore.
She released a shaking breath and pressed her face to the back of Delia's neck, surrounding herself with the comforting scent of the brunette's hair. Screwing her eyes shut she tried to hold back the tears making a concerted effort to spill down her face, but it was all in vain as a keening moan made it's way up her throat.
Delia tried to turn in her arms but Patsy held her tight, not ready for Delia to see her like this. She'd always been an ugly crier.
"It's all right cariad," Delia cooed, squeezing one of the fists pressed against her ribs, her other hand reaching back to stroke Patsy's hair. "Cry as much as you need to sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere."
Patsy had no idea how long she cried for, could have been five minutes or an hour, all she knew was she had a headache and Delia's hair was soggy. But once her breathing was back under control she let Delia roll over and hold her close, the smaller woman pressing kisses to her hair as she rubbed her back.
The little black rain cloud was still there, one good cry was never going to get rid of it completely, but it didn't seem as dark, or as heavy as it did before.