Sansaery + mental health
Sansa wakes up without moving. Her eyes open and she stares into the ceiling, grey from the ounces of waking sun. She contemplates going back to sleep.
She doesn’t. A small sigh escapes her lips. She wonders when the weight in her chest will go away.
She lays there until it does.
The grey starts to color with pinks and gold. Sansa wishes she could see the beauty in it but it doesn’t matter to her. Nothing really does.
It’s not uncommon. She gets like this. She knows she does.
She looks over to her desk that will face the sun at high noon and evening. Her computer is sleeping, she can see the little light breathing.
She wants to write. She wants to get up. There are things that need to get done.
And she can’t.
She can’t get up. She can’t write. She can’t move.
Why?
The weigh in her chest molds and clenches inside of her. She can feel her heart tug. She bites her lips because it becomes overwhelming. She can’t tell what makes it become overwhelming.
The tears are starting to form in her eyes. They spring up sometimes. Sometimes, she waits for herself to cry because sometimes it’s unforgiving. Sansa’s learned sometimes she can’t fight it. Some days, she hopes the moment will pass but it never does.
There’s a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Glass shattering.
Sansa looks over next to her and realizes their bed is empty. Her girlfriend isn’t sleeping next to her.
When she lies awake in bed, she forgets Margaery is there. She’d go to sleep with soft whispers of I love you and a tight grasp around her waist to remind her she isn’t alone. On some nights, it isn’t enough to keep her alive.
Sansa gets up. The weight in her chest shifts to her feet as she drags them along.
Margaery’s home. It’s uncommon for Margaery to be home during the day when Olenna needs her in the office.
She sees Margaery on her hands and knees, frantically moving back and forth. The sounds of the glass clinking barely makes Margaery’s heavy breathing noticeable to Sansa.
----------------------
Margaery feels her heart drop with the glass. Her hands still shake as she realizes the glass is indeed broken.
It makes her frustrated. It makes her hurt. It makes her lost. She can’t even find the beginning of what she’s feeling. The thread has taken so many turns that it’s balled up into a giant knot. Her heart trembles at the thought of even unraveling it.
Margaery knows she has to keep it together. She’s got a career. She’s got a future. She’s got Sansa.
Her Sansa. It brings tears to her eyes. She curses herself as she rushes to pull the trash can closer to the mess.
Sansa hadn’t been eating. She doesn’t look at her directly. She rarely speaks. Margaery knows this.
She gets like this.
She gets like this and Margaery can’t do anything to help. She can’t even grab a stupid glass without shaking. She curses again as she throws the big chunks of glass into the trash can quickly.
Margaery can barely see through the burning tears. She needs to hold it together. She has to keep moving forward. Tomorrow comes around and Sansa will feel better. She always finds a way to help Sansa feel better.
She can’t do it right now. The election is around the corner. The hours are longer than before in the office. The wrong time off and grandmother will be in trouble.
Margaery sees her hands shake and tries to will herself to stop.
Her vision becomes blurry. It’s only when she feels the glass cut her hand that the tears fall to clear her vision. It doesn’t last. The tears keep coming and she lets it go.
She gets like this. And Margaery hates it. She can’t do anything when she’s like this. She can’t take care of Sansa like this.
Suddenly, she feels a pair of hands on her shoulders. They stroke her gently before guiding her away from the mess.
When Margaery looks up, her eyes meet Sansa’s bright blue ones. They’ve been grey the last couple of weeks. Making Margaery feel like she’s not enough.
Margaery rubs her eyes of the tears with the back of her hands. She wants to say something witty and light. Her voice croaks and she can’t breathe. She hates it when Sansa sees her like this.
It becomes a game. Reminding herself to compartmentalize her thoughts, to breathe, and to calm down. She doesn’t know which one ever wins but it never happens all at once.
She forces herself to calm down and feels her breathing quicken. Her throat threatens to close up and her head becomes light.
Sansa quickly wraps her arms around her waist and pulls her up into a hug. Margaery automatically buries her face, crying and struggling to breathe, into Sansa’s neck.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Sansa chants. Her voice is empty but Margaery can feel her girlfriend shake against her.
She’s trying. She gets like this. We both do.
“Come back, Marg. Come back to me. I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”
Under that empty voice, Margaery tries to remind herself that there’s an ounce of promise. There’s an ounce of promise that Sansa’s words are real.
Sansa pulls her back slightly. Margaery clenches her bleeding hands together around Sansa’s neck in fear of losing her. She curses out in ragged breaths.
Sansa ducks her head, lips around hers. She sighs into the kiss and Margaery breathes her in. She cries through the kiss, trying to remember to breath with Sansa’s guidance.
Sansa’s there. She’ll always be there. Just like Margaery will always be there for her.
Sansa will always remember. Margaery needs her too.
They are each others’ reasons for getting out of bed in the morning some days.