Murder Drones | The Library

Pressure

J awoke with a start when she heard a noise. Her internals say it was about 3:43 in the morning, far too late for anybody to be up doing anything.

Deciding to investigate, she drops from the ceiling and quietly exits her bedroom. Her heels softly 'clack' on the wooden floor of the second story house as she approaches the origin of the noise. It seemed to lead her to her master's bedroom. Her core pricks with worry for a moment, but maintains her silent approach.

She leans close to his door, turning up her audio receptors as she listens to whatever may be occurring inside.

"Why can't I just...do it?!"

His distressing words put her on high alert, and she nearly busts the door off its hinges to get inside. The bedroom was dimly lit, only illuminated by the dull light of the desk lamp that shined down on empty sheets of paper. The chair of his desk was flopped onto the ground - she presumes this to be the origin of the noise prior to her arrival.

Her master, (Y/N), sat at the corner of his bed, his head originally clutched into his hands, but was released and is now looking at her in fright.

Her core pricks again when she notices the tears in his eyes...

"What happened?" She asks urgently as she rushes to his side. She feels him tense when she touches him and her hand retreats.

(Y/N) doesn't look at her, a gleaming look of fear in his distraught pupils. Frighteningly, he switches up his demeanor and acts as though he was perfectly stable. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep in my chair and hit my head by accident." His voice was even, and monotone as he tries to hide his anguish.

She's seen this ploy plenty of times to know otherwise. Still, she humors him and wordlessly examines his head. Unsurprisingly, it was devoid of any bumps or bruising. She pulls back and looks at him with a stern frown.

"Why are you up so late?"

He doesn't answer her and withdraws further in his shell. He tries to avoid the confrontation altogether by leaving. J forces him back onto the bed before he could, her look becoming even more intense.

"I-It's nothing. Really..."

She squeezed his shoulder, refusing him any opportunity to leave.

It seemed to have an effect on him as his facade begins to crack. His body shakes as his turmoil rumbled within before the tears began to flow once more. He sniffs, his face red as he tries to hold back the tears.

"I don't know what to do..." He starts. "I've been trying to work on this story for over a month and I can't focus!" He clutches the sides of his head again as he lays his feelings bare. "I've done everything I can think of to get me motivated but I can't do it! Every time I feel like I have something, my mind blanks on me and I feel like an idiot!"

(Y/N) begins to tuck into himself, his nails digging into his scalp. "It's like my body and mind are at war and every time I choose a side, the other one freaks out and makes me do the opposite! I don't know what to think anymore!"

J's harsh glare fades as the human breaks down before her. On instinct, she scoops him into her arms and holds him close, his painful sobs muffled by the fabric of her coat and tie.

"I'm a failure! People are waiting for me to make something but I can't! Why does it have to be so hard?! It's just words! I just want to write!"

J doesn't know what to say. She hasn't ever been put in this position before, nor did she consider herself qualified to play 'therapist'. Yet, here she was. Her normally stone-cold persona made way for a softer, more soothing tone of voice as the human bawls in her arms, her expression depicting worry, and pity. Qualified or not, he needs her and she'll gladly ease his suffering.

"You're not a failure..." She coos.

"Then why can't I get anything done?"

She chews on the question, carefully deconstructing it and analyzing each letter as she formulated her response.

"You said this has been going on for a month?"

She feels him nod. He was still crying as he spoke, but to a degree that allowed his words to be properly articulated. "I-I've been trying to work on it every day..."

"How do you prepare?"

He doesn't speak for a moment as he considers the question, the silence being broken by an occasional sniff. "...I get up first thing. I listen to music to wake me up and hype myself up while I eat breakfast. A-After that, I listen to Neil Keplan and imagine him narrating my work so it flows easier..."

As (Y/N) lists off his process, J gives an occasional hum of affirmation while she rubs his back. She doesn't know if what she is doing is helping, but at least he wasn't crying.

"What changed?"

"It worked at first, but now I'm...slow, like my mind doesn't want to wake up. I feel unmotivated and angry when I try to work at all now..."

'Oh.' J mentally slaps herself for not realizing it sooner.

"You're pushing yourself too hard."

Confused, (Y/N) looks up at his drone companion as she breaks the contact.

"You're so stressed about getting this done to the point it's putting more pressure on you than you can handle." A look of pride flashes on her faceplate as she flicks one of her pigtails. "I have employees dealing with that all the time in the office. It's bad for both your work, and your health, so just take a break."

(Y/N) didn't seem convinced. "But...people are waiting on me-"

"Fuck them!" She says with a roll of her eyes. "They don't tell you what to do! You do this for fun, right?"

He slowly nods.

"Then do it when YOU want to. If they don't like it, then they can get bent."

A cloud was lifted before (Y/N)'s eyes and he finally understood. She was right. He was an author, and while he gets paid for it, he really did it for the thrill of expressing his creativity. He wanted to share it with others and inspire them with his work. Instead, he twisted it and squeezed the fun from the activity, turning it into nothing more than a chore.

J is right. There's no point stressing about what others want from him if it will be a detriment to his work. Although, she could have at least worded it better...

He wipes the tears from his eyes and straightens himself, his earlier state a memory of the past. "You're right."

"Good." For a moment, J gives him a semblance of a smile, only for it to be overthrown by a harsh scowl. "Now go to bed! It's 4 in the morning and I need my beauty sleep!"

"R-Right, sorry!" He says, quickly picking up the chair and turning off the lamp.

J huffs and makes her way out the door. Just as she was about to shut it behind her, (Y/N) speaks up again.

"Thank you."

She pauses in her step, turns around - "Just sleep, you dolt..." - and then gently closes the door behind her.

She stands in the hall as she reflects on their interaction in her CPU, surprised that it went so well. A huff follows her confident smile.

Guess she was a good therapist after all.