Demi Imagines 2.0

Stressed

You're really fucking stressed...

"Demetria!" you yell, needing someone to talk to. She's downstairs making tea—or something like that, anyway.
"What is it?" she yells back.
"Can you come upstairs?" you ask, and after a moment, she comes upstairs into your room.
"Are you okay?" she questions, and you just stare at the ceiling.
"I need to rant," you tell her.
"Alright," she says, sitting down and taking your hand as you remain lying there. "Shoot," she tells you.
"I have exams, I have a ton of work next week, I kinda want to die, and I feel like shit."
"Okay, well, take it one thing at a time," she says, rubbing your hand lightly with her thumb. She traces circles in your skin. The constant pressure calms you strangely.
"First I have exams," you say, and she nods.
"Mmm okay. I'll help you study for that," she replies. "Then work?"
"Yeah."
"Well just think of how many coins you're going to earn," she says, making you laugh slightly.
"I want time, not money."
"Well, you enjoy work sometimes, no?"
"Well yeah," you say, and she chuckles lightly.
"When it gets to be time, you'll enjoy it. Don't worry."
"Yeah, you're probably right," you say, staring at the pattern on the ceiling. There's a small dot on the white surface, and you wonder what it is. There are subtle swirls in the milky white, reminding you of "The Yellow Wallpaper" and how the patterns seemed to change.
"And you want to die, right?" she asks flatly.
"A little."
"Well, let's think of it this way. You're going to die eventually anyway, so you might as well enjoy things before that happens," she says.
Strangely, that makes you feel a little better.
"And the fact that you feel like shit can be helped by cuddles," she says, lying down beside you. You tear your eyes off the ceiling and look to her. She smiles as your eyes meet.
"Thanks for dealing with me," you say softly, and she shakes her head. Moving a hand to your face, she brushes your hair back.
"I love you. Of course I'll deal with you," she replies, leaning in and kissing you gently.
You feel warm and fuzzy inside. She can always make you feel better. It's not like everything is all sunshine and rainbows—though that's what she tastes like. But she makes things seem a lot brighter.
"I love you more," you whisper against her lips.
Her hand is warm on your face, and you feel her thumb gently caress your skin.
"Impossible," she replies, making you smile.
You don't know what you'd do without her. Luckily, you'll never have to find out.

A/N
I feel a bit better now