Stupid Fucking Tripod

Note: I guess you could call this a fan-fic? This post uses real people (with changed names) but their scenario is completely fictional. Still, if you recognize the people I'm writing about, you can revel in the feels with me.

Also, everyone here is above 18. There's no sex, but it's an intimate moment between two people who love(d) each other.

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Pam had just set her bowl of cinnamon cereal down when a crash came from the other room. She did not look up. Her spoon disappeared under the white soup. She raised it to her mouth, crunching the cinnamon squares. Another crash.

"Shit!" Sarah's voice called out from across the house.

Pam slid her bowl off the counter. She silently walked towards the noise.

Sarah's recording room was in disarray. The ring light glowed against the ground. The bed, where Sarah usually sat to record the videos, was unmade and covered in laundry. Even Sarah, usually made up with eyeliner and a top bun, sported a fresh face and unbrushed hair.

Sarah had been doing YouTube for a while, so she had figured out how to record videos even in the grips of depression, bipolar mania, even suicidal days. But Pam knew those days started slow.

"It took me ten fucking minutes to set up this stupid fucking tripod." Sarah yells when she's upset, her Boston accent thickening with anger. The tripod laid crumpled on the floor, beneath Sarah's slippered feet.

Pam gently placed her cereal bowl on the nightstand. Pam focused on her hands. Her hands were still. This stillness, snaking up her arms and shoulders, spilled into the rest of her body. Pam slowly turned, like the eye facing the rest of the storm.

Sarah's breathing quickened. She scrunched her face, trying to stop herself from crying. "Why's it gotta be so fuckin' hard?" She covered her face with her hands. Those hands that once orchestrated the whole video set, plugging in cameras and lights, now focused on stopping the thoughts in Sarah's head.

Pam wrapped her arms around Sarah. Sarah's watery voice dripped out of Pam's shoulder. "Today's a hard day." Sarah's body tensed as if bracing for impact.

"I know, baby. I know," murmured Pam. Sarah's body pressed against Pam's and relaxed. Warm wet spots blossomed on Pam's sleeve.

The two stood there, reveling in the silence and stillness of the room, hearing each other's breaths through their clavicles. Pam closed her eyes, inhaling Sarah's lavender-mint scent.

A thought floated up to Pam's ears: This is why I love her.

She wanted to press her body closer to Sarah's. She wanted to kiss the depression away.

Except Sarah gently pulled away, wiping her eyes. Pam's chest and stomach and arms, once warmed, froze in the air. Sarah picked up her tripod and straightened it. She screwed in the camera. Pam sat on the bed, watching her set up the equipment. She remembered the bowl of cereal.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said to the tripod.

"It's okay." Pam spooned cereal into her mouth. It was warm and soggy.

The camera, lights, mic, everything was good to go. Pam scraped the last few crumbs of cereal from the sides of the bowl. Cinnamon-sugar coated her mouth. Pam was about to reach for her phone, when the bed sagged with weight.

Sarah took the bowl from Pam's hands and put it on the nightstand. She then placed her head in Pam's lap. Her long hair tickled Pam's bare toes. Pam focused on the sky blue eyes staring up at her.

"I'm sorry."

Pam kissed Sarah's lips. They lingered, Pam hovering over Sarah, nibbling once, twice, until Pam straightened again. She patted Sarah's red cheek, smiling.

"It's okay."

They held each other, in laps, in gazes, and that familiar flooding consumed Pam again. That electric swirl starting in her stomach and floated to her head, filling it with something like warm, oozing maple syrup. This is why I love her, she thought.

Pam kissed Sarah one more time and pushed Sarah to a sitting position. "You have a video to record." Pam grabbed her bowl and walked to the door.

"I love you," called Sarah, almost nervously. Embarrassed.

Pam faced Sarah. Pam's smile said, 'how could I do anything but love you?'

"I love you too." Pam clicked the door closed behind her.

As Pam rinsed the bowl and sponged the sides clean, she heard, "Hey guys, it's Sarah, welcome the fuck back to my channel," float through the house.