𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭𝔂| ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 4

Black Beauty| Request

AN: I pictured Vendetta Leon for this one since it features heavy depression and turning to alcohol.

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Oh, what can I do?
Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue
Sun and ocean blue
Their magnificence, it don't make sense to youBlack beauty, ah-ah
Black beauty, ah-ah

- Lana Del Rey

Usually Leon would hide is pain behind a mask of jokes and cool confidence, instead of allowing himself to feel the guilt and regrets of his failed missions and bloodied hands he'd throw himself into more work or being the perfect husband for me. However sometimes that mask would crumble, I could begin to see through the cracks and inevitably it would slip, showing me the bleak and darkened man who's barely holding himself together. After years of loving him I knew the signs of an upcoming collapse, and the only thing I could do is anchor myself down and be there for Leon when the storm hit.

It begun with him spending more time in bed, blaming it on migraines or fatigue. At first I didn't worry about it, I knew how hard he worked and put it down to stress and overworking himself, but when he started heading to bed in the middle of the day on a daily basis, I knew the spiral had begun. I waited it out for a week, hoping that maybe he's pull himself up and find something else to throw himself into, it didn't help that there weren't a lot of missions for him to figure out or tackle, despite them being the problem they were also the cure too. Leon would lie there for hours, staring at the ceiling without sleeping, just lost in the labyrinth of his own depressive thoughts. On day eight I set my plan into action, barging into the bedroom and opening the curtains, basking him in a bright glow of pure sunshine and blue skies.

"Look, it's a beautiful day, there's barely a cloud in the sky!" I cheerfully say, hoping that maybe he'd take an interest in the nice weather. Hell, Leon might even suggest going outside. Instead he throws an arm over his eyes, blocking out the golden rays as he groans and grumbles, mumbling about closing them because of his head. With a sigh I let the curtains cut off the daylight, once again shrouding the room in pitch black equal to Leon's mindset. I refused to give up on him, I knew this was only a rough patch, so I brought the colour in when he wasn't able to cast me out. Our bedroom was currently a light grey colour, we'd been going for modern and sleek, but whilst Leon went to pick up groceries, albeit I had to shove him out of the house, I got to work rapidly painting one wall a nice lavender purple that worked well with the grey. It made so much difference to what I now see as a monochrome room.

"What the fuck have you done?" Leon's harsh voice startles me. I spin, accidentally dropping the paintbrush as my eyes widen at his rugged appearance. He needs a shave, and his hair hasn't got that usual luscious shine he's known for. I swallow, putting on a smile and trying to brave this through.

"I thought we needed a change of scenery. It's nice though?" I hum, glancing at the pretty wall. I've done worse in the time Leon and I have lived together, such as an impromptu redecoration of our living room over the course of a weekend, and almost always my husband has just laughed it off and kissed my head, telling me he likes it if I do. This time though, Leon's frustration is thick and choking, it stems from him like a black cloud, seeping through my defences until I crumble too.

"It's fucking awful, and you've made a mess to. Jesus Y/N, what the hell where you thinking?!" He snaps, shaking his head and walking away. Tears spring to my eyes as he leaves me alone, so with muffled cries I use the remainder of the original paint to cover the colour back to its original dullness. Leon doesn't comment on the change again, and I don't talk to him for the rest of the night even though his words were from a place of shame and sadness and not him. I still refuse to give up on him, even as his days and moods get worse.