When He’s Down

~

Dedicated to and written for

my lovely friend Fall, who 

paid for me to write it

by giving me a drawing

of Fred doing yoga

in a straight-jacket

10/10 9 days well spent

Fall you’re worth every page

uwu

~

Chapter One

Morning

~

She met him one bright sunny afternoon on campus. She was just walking by him, and yet, she could feel it instantly. They were only walking past each other for a mere second, but the second she was within reach of him, she could feel their heartbeats syncing up, becoming one, for but a brief moment, and yet it felt eternal, and then it was gone, leaving behind only a fluttering of the eyelids, a backwards glance, and a longing. 

That was when their eyes met. He had the greenest, brightest eyes she had ever seen, like shining little marbles of jade. And the way he looked down and up and then back to where he was going told her everything she needed to know. He had captured her soul in those evergreen eyes of his, and she had done the same to him. 

The next time they met, it was in a far more formal setting: Barbara was singing at a local Valborg festival, and when she stood up there, singing about her loneliness to an audience that didn’t take her seriously, she saw him, standing there amongst the crowd, a bit out of place in his too-nice tie and cardigan. He was smiling lazily, his eyes a bit sunken in, with his golden hair all askew in a way that made Barbara’s heart flutter shyly. He must have noticed the way she looked at him, since he suddenly looked down at something, his smile growing sheepish and his tan cheeks turning rosy. Barbara was momentarily distracted by the man, but even though she wasn’t paying much attention to her song anymore, she could tell it wasn’t any worse because of his presence. If anything, it was actually better. She was singing to someone. 

After the little concert was all said and done and she had taken her bows(of course, paying the closest attention of all to the blonde in the front), she was thrilled to notice the man approaching her. He seemed a bit nervous, his back hunched and his brows furrowed, but his smile still lingered. Barbara could relate to that emotion immensely. As the young adult came near, Barbara couldn’t help but unconsciously tug at her dress, attempting to straighten it out, fingers running through her long, braided hair. It wasn’t all twisted up, was it? 

“You sang beautifully,” the boy remarked. There it was. His voice. It was a wonderful baritone, deep and humming, powerful yet kind. “Th-, thank you,” Barbara replied, shyly playing with her long golden locks, her raspberry lips forming into a slight smile whilst her cheeks lit up at the praise. “I’m Fred, by the way,” Fred introduced himself, placing one hand on his chest. His fingernails were strangely elongated and pointed, like claws, and even though they were a strange, corpsely blue, Barbara doubted they were painted. The man was an enigma. “I’m Barbara,” Barbara returned, stretching out her hand to shake his. Fred stared at the hand for a moment, obviously confused, before scoffing at himself and grasping it. His hand was cold and stale, but even though Barbara could feel he had the strength to easily crush her hand, he restrained himself, holding her dainty little hand carefully and gently.

And during the entirety of the night, they talked, about everything and nothing, until the bonfire that was the trademark of the Valborg festivities had died out and the glowing embers no longer danced in the air like little wisps. They promised to meet once more at another time, and they did. And after only a few more meetings, a few more moments gazing into each others eyes, they confessed, and were finally a pair. It had almost been too easy, too simple. But it was lovely. Barbara was always fair, and Fred was always happy. He always seemed to be smiling in some way, weather sheepishly or lovingly or teasingly, except…

Until he wasn’t.

It had been a day like any other, really. The sun peeked in through the window and kissed Barbara softly on the cheek, rousing her awake. Normally, what awoke her in the morning were the soft, unspoken affections of her love, Fred, pecking her on the cheek and snuggling up to her, teasingly playing with her hair, but this morning, nothing of the such occured. Groggily, she awakened, her uncombed hair falling on her face, preventing any form of sight. With a little huff, she removed the hair, genuinely considering maybe getting it cut down to size. But, then again, she had always had it this way, and she hadn’t ever cut it before, so that would have to wait a bit. 

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Leaning over, she checked to see if Fred was awake. He was usually the first one up, always being dressed and ready when the sun had risen, never oversleeping. Atleast, that’s how it had been for the past couple of weeks. Obviously, that statement did not apply to today, for some reason. And he was awake. But not quite. 

It was almost as if there was a film over his eyes, making them look all hazy and glazed over. They were sunken in, like little jade marbles rolling about loosely in the eyeholes of a skull. His cheeks were sunken in as well, and the smile that usually adorned his face was entirely gone, replaced with a tired, uncaring line. His hair was uncharacteristically messy, and although he liked to keep it on the loose end, this was just too much. It looked as if he hadn’t showered in five days, which couldn’t be the case, since not only had he taken a shower just yesterday, but the amount of time and care he put into his hair easily rivalled Barbara herself, whose hair took hours just to wash. So to see it this dim and grease-covered was, altogether, surreal. 

The green eyes slowly rolled over to peer up at Barbara, a single flimmer of recognition fleeting through them. “Is everything alright?...” Barbara asked, her slim eyebrows furrowing together in worry. Fred seemed to focus on her, trying to make her head out to be more than a shape, a mere image of colours and patterns, and more as an actual person, with eyes and hair and lips to kiss. However, instead of the usual everything’s-alright smile he’d always give her when things were tough, he instead sneered at her. A malicious twist of the lips, a contemptfull rising of the eyebrow. “What’s it to you?” he croaked at her, his voice hoarse and unforgiving. Barbara gasped. He had never said anything like this before, never before had he even so much as used a harsh tone with her. Something was obviously wrong. 

“...Have you been crying?” Johanna asked, reaching out to touch his chin. Indeed, not only were his eyes more sunken in than usual, but they were all red and puffy, as if he had been lying awake all night, weeping over some unknown sorrow. Fred slapped her hand away, his face twisting in a strange grimace of fear, anger, and… shame. He was ashamed. Why was he ashamed? Fred averted his gaze. “...I didn’t want you to worry…” Fred mumbled as he turned over in bed to look away from her, as if he didn’t want to see what kind of effect this would have on her. The effect in question was pity. He simply didn’t want her to pity him.

“Babykins-,” “Don’t-, don’t call me that,” Fred hissed, cutting off Barbara. Barbara didn’t reply. She simply stared at his back. She should have been angry, she knew that. And yet, she wasn’t. She didn’t feel a single ounce of irritation at this man, because she loved him, and she knew what he needed now was not anger; it was love. So, Barbara smiled, and got out of bed. She could feel Fred’s burning gaze bore into her back and the longing this gaze contained. But she didn’t look back. 

She wasn’t gone for long. Within only a few minutes, agonizing, painful minutes for Fred, she returned, her frilly hair all up in a big, knotted-up ball. It always got like that in the morning, and it would always take her at least an hour to brush it all out, but after she and Fred fell in love and moved in together, he had been brushing it out, and with some love and magic barbering, he had been able to sort it all out and make it nice and pretty in just a few minutes. Something told Barbara he wouldn’t be doing that today, but nevertheless. In her dainty little pale hands was a small, ornate red cup, from which a thick vapur could be seen rising. Whatever liquid was kept in there, it was, in all likelihood, very hot. 

Fred realized what it was immediately. Barbara quickly made her way to his side of the bed(the side that faced the window which, in turn, faced the campus). Fred scrunched his nose at her, his broad mouth twisting into a scowl. But before he could say anything, Barbara practically shoved the steaming hot cup into his hands. It was warm milk. The soothing, sweet aroma billowed, entrancing Fred instantly. His tired eyes turned down, and although he didn’t really feel like drinking it, hell, he didn’t feel like drinking anything, he brought the liquid to his lips and took a sip. It was sweet, but not too sweet, and a bit thicker than simply milk would be. Barbara knew he liked to have some cream in it. She knew a lot of things about him that other people didn’t. Even things he didn’t know about himself. 

Turning his gaze to the warmly smiling Barbara, Fred couldn’t help but blush slightly. She really was too kind. “Th-, thank you,” Fred mumbled, feeling quite flustered at the gesture. Looking back up, Fred quickly noticed Barbara had turned around, which made his heart sink. Was she leaving again? Maybe she’d leave forever, and take her hair with her? But, in direct contrast to these thoughts, she quickly sat down, plopping down onto the side of the ploofy bed Fred was still occupying. “H-, hey!-” Fred loudly protested, anger flaring up into his voice. “If… if you don’t want to do anything today, that’s okay, but… can I atleast do it for you?...” Barbara pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I-, I-,” Fred stammered. Had he really been so cold, so callous, enough to make her cry?... 

He wasn’t taking out his sorrows on her, was he?... God, he always did this! Couldn’t he just be nice and flowery to people? Why did he have to hurt everybody close to him?... Was he doomed to be alone, stuffed into some institution for looneys who like to eat crayons and bang their heads?! Fred felt like tearing out his hair, and he really would have, if she wasn’t there. If she wasn’t looking at him with those big, fawning eyes, her nose all flushed, her lips downturned. Fred furrowed his brows and frowned. Not at her, of course, but at the situation. He was used to just kind of… sit these days out. Just let them pass. The hunger would eventually rouse his common sense anyways, so what use was there in actually doing anything? “I… okay, but just… leave me be, okay?...” Fred pleaded back, his green eyes full of an unspeakable sadness, lined with remorse. Barbara smiled. A light, airy kind of “of course” smile. She nodded, and wiped her tears, that little smile still on her raspberry lips. She really was quite pretty. 

“What is it?” Barbara inquired, noticing his searching gaze. “No, it’s just-,” Fred stammered, his hands flying up in front of him defensively before grabbing hold of the covers and dragging them up to his cheeks, covering his little frown. “I was just thinking about how p-, pretty you were…” Fred muttered into the soft covers, barely able to look at her, his face growing red and flushed. Before he could even notice that she had moved, she had cupped his cheeks in her stretched out hands, squishing them together slightly. Fred was taken back, and was thusly unable to react when she leaned in, her pale, rosy-cheeked face growing closer. “Honeybunch, so are you,” she cooed, giving him a little peck on the nose before leaning back and releasing her hold on his cheeks. Confused, but pleasantly so, Fred was left in a stupor of sorts. “You-, h-, hey!-” he tried to say, but he simply couldn’t sound mad, a little smile creeping its way onto his lips. Barbara giggled softly and stood up, her golden locks still all twisted up and higgledy-piggledy in a way that set Fred’s passionate barber’s heart ablaze. Well, it would have. Right now, he couldn’t much care for anything. Barbara’s supple scent of cherries and rye still lingered in the air, and for some reason, it was the only thing he could think of.