the curious happenstance of pedro pascal and din djarin [The Mandalorian]

Confession

Please proceed with caution.
Trigger warning for those struggling with depression.
I promise things will get better. Hold on for me. Things will be okay.

There are two asterisk scenes. The first is short, the second is longer. They are dialogue and consist of a potentially triggering topic. I made the asterisks more obvious by using three instead of the usual one.

This chapter is important to me as a writer, so I didn't want to cut it. Even if no one reads, I take solace in knowing I finally had the courage to write something like this and post it online. I can imagine some might feel distressed by some of the dialogue in this chapter and for that, I apologise. But this chapter is too important to me.

I don't personally struggle with depression, but I've known many people who have, and I've personally known a few that have attempted to take their own life. None that were close to me have succeeded, but the thought is still scary.

If you're struggling with depression, anxiety, etc, don't hesitate to reach out to other people. I'm also here to listen should you so choose to talk to me.

-

16th March 2020

Christopher slowly sank into the couch.

The house had become quiet, almost too quiet, even with the news on the TV playing softly in the background. The atmosphere was tense. Pedro could feel it in his chest, like a sort of ache, and as his heart began to beat faster and faster, he had to force himself to breathe.

"When," Pedro began, immediately cutting himself off at the sound of his voice. Hoarse. He tried again. "When you came to visit, about... about a week ago, I asked what you were like before you came here. And you said you didn't know."

Christopher ducked his head slightly, almost like a nod.

"I did," he said simply.

"And I said you were lying."

Christopher's eyes slid closed. "You did," he said.

There was silence. The feeling in Pedro's chest tightened, and a knot formed in his throat. This is not going to end well.

I should've asked Pershing to stay.

"Well... well, then, I'm asking again. I want to know. What you were like."

Christopher's eyes opened slightly and Pedro could see the man staring at him through his eyelashes. He appeared almost sickly, now. Weak. Like all of the anger had melted away and left nothing but a defeated and exhausted man.

And then he spoke. And it was barely above a whisper.

" 'M not the best person to ask," he muttered. He appeared to suppress a yawn. "Ivana could tell you..."

His eyes closed again. There was a tense moment of silence. Then his eyes suddenly snapped open wide, and he inhaled sharply, shifting his position on the couch so that he was sitting with his knees tucked to his chest.

"Well," Pedro said, "I'm not asking Ivana, I'm asking you."

Besides, she's said her part.

There was more silence as Christopher stared blankly at the wall opposite him.

"Thing is," he finally spoke, "I really don't know how to answer that."

"Try anyway."

Christopher shot him a sideways glare. "Why do you care?"