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The first genuinely frightening thing Sam did was apologise for crying.
Not because he cried often, actually because of the complete opposite.
Sam had always been soft emotionally in a very open way. He laughed loudly, loved loudly, and got angry loudly.
Even when upset, he remained reachable. Present. Human even.
But this was different.
Jay found him sitting on the bathroom floor at two in the morning with the shower running behind him.
Still fully dressed and only the smallest light on.
The apartment was completely dark except for the yellow hallway light spilling in weakly through the cracked door.
For one terrifying second she had though he was hurt.
"Sam?"
He looked up slowly.
His face was wet, though she couldn't tell how much was tears and how much was steam.
And almost immediately, instantly, "Sorry."
Jay's stomach dropped.
Not a I'm okay. Not a I couldn't sleep.
Sorry.
Like she had caught him doing something wrong.
She crouched beside him immediately, looking over his body just to double check he wasn't physically harmed. "Hey. Hey, baby, what happened?"
Sam rubbed hard at his face, "I woke you up."
"No, honey, I don't care about that."
He nodded like he understood the words logically but not emotionally.
The shower hissed beside them.
Sam just stared at the tile floor, not that he could really even see them with how the dark the room was.
"I didn't want you to hear me, I'm so sorry."
Jay went cold all over.
Because Sam wasn't usually embarrassed by his emotions, but this one sounded like shame.
Deep shame.
She sat down beside him fully now, pyjama pants soaking instantly against the damp floor.
"Talk to me."
Long silence.
Then finally, in a voice so small it barely sounded like him at all, "I think something's wrong with my brain."
Jay swallowed hard.
"Why would you say that? What makes you think that way, babe?"
Sam laughed once. Broken. Humourless.
"Because normal people don't spend days on end fantasising about disappearing."
The sentence hit the room like a bullet shattering glass.
Jay swear she stopped breathing for a second. A second long enough for Sam to immediately notice. The guilt appearing instantly and worsening Sam's thoughts with that too.
"Not like—" he wiped furiously at his face again. "I'm not gonna do anything stupid." Yet he sounded exhausted through saying it.
Like even staying alive felt labour-intensive at this point.
Jay kept her voice painfully gentle for everyone's sake, "Sam, how long have you felt like this?"
Another pause.
"Couple months maybe."
Months.
Months.
Her chest physically hurt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Sam's expression crumpled slightly at that because he genuinely didn't an answer.
Or maybe he just had too many.
"I don't know," he whispered finally. "I thought it would go away."
The shower kept running beside them.
Steam curled softly through the bathroom while Sam continued to stare blankly at the floor.
"I'm so tired, Jay."
Not sleepy tired. Soul exhausted.
The kind that sits deeply in bone marrow.
Jay reached for his hand slowly.
He let her hold it, but weakly. Like even squeezing back required energy he didn't have anymore.
"I keep ruining things," he murmured.
"You are not ruining things."
"I can't even act normal anymore."
Jay frowned sharply. "Sam."
"I mean, look at me." His voice shook harder now. "I can barely answer texts. Luke came over yesterday and I spent half the time pretending I wasn't trying to not cry." He laughed bitterly. "Tom made three different jokes trying to get me to laugh and I couldn't even put up the mask and fake it properly."
Jay's eyes burned.
Because she knew those boys loved him fiercely. She knows that AJ would put aside a film project if he'd known Sam was struggling and needed a friend close.
She knows that Luke would intentionally put everything on pause, and grab the first flight from Spain to come check on him at any time.
She knows that Tom would be on the phone for hours just chatting if he fully knew that Sam wasn't okay.
And Sam sounded so guilty for being love while severely depressed.
"I feel…" He stopped.
Swallowed.
The words forced their way way out anyway:
"I feel like everybody would be less stressed if I just disappeared for a while."
Jay grabbed his face immediately.
Firm. Terrified.
"Do not do that to yourself."
Sam startled slightly.
Her voice cracked.
"You are not a burden because you are sick."
That word made him flinch.
Sick.
As if depression needed visible bruising before he'd allow himself to count.
Jay could see it happening in real life: the self-loathing, the shame spiral, the belief that he was becoming difficult to love.
And underneath all of it was something even scarier… he sounded resigned.
Not dramatic. Not attention-seeking. Just profoundly and dangerously empty.
Jay pulled him into her arms before he could apologise again.
Sam folded against her immediately and finally allowed himself to cry properly.
Not loud.
That was almost worse.
Silently shaking. Silent sobs. Years of being everyone's safe space collapsing inward all at once.
And Jay held him, tightly on the bathroom floor like a stable foundational pillar.
And somewhere underneath the fear was one brutal thought she couldn't stop repeatedly hearing: Sam has been drowning quietly enough that everyone mistook the pain for passive tiredness.
Jay took a deep breathe, forcing her to realise how bad it had gotten for Sam.
Sam had smelt wrong. Not dirty, exactly. Just… stale.
Like someone existing near themself instead of inside themself.
It hit her hard while holding him close on the damp bathroom floor. His face pressed tiredly into her shoulder while the empty shower hissed behind them.
She pulled back slightly and looked at him carefully, squinting.
"Sam."
He looked exhausted more now from the soft sobs.
"What?"
Her voice softened carefully. "Sam, when's the last time you got in that shower properly?"
Immediate silence.
That was answer enough.
Sam looked away first.
"…I don't know."
"Sam."
A shrug.
A long pause.
Then finally, almost inaudible, "Maybe a month?"
Jay's heart broke quietly. Not because she was disgusted, or even angry. But, because a month meant this had gone much further beyond 'a little sadness'.
A month meant survival mode.
Sam rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "I know it's gross."
"No," Jay said immediately, firmly. "No, honey."
He still looked ashamed just the same.
Like depression had somehow convinced him that basic care was something he needed to earn first.
Jay reached up and pushed the slightly damp curls back from his forehead gently.
"I think," she said softly, "we need to get you cleaned up."
Sam immediately tensed.
The reaction was subtle but instant.
Too tired to fight properly, but still resistant.
"I can't."
"You can."
He shook his head weakly. "No, please, I don't have enough spoons for it."
The phrase came out defeated. Embarrassed.
Jay understood exactly what he meant.
Showering while deeply depressed could feel less like hygiene and more like preparing for war: standing up, undressing, temperature control, the water touching, the scent of the unscented soap, washing the suds free of his hair, drying off, and then having to put on clean clothes.
Too many steps. Too much existence.
Still, Jay looked him directly in the eyes and said gently, "I don't care."
Sam blinked, thinking he misheard her.
"If you cannot do it yourself," she continued softly, "then I'm going to do it for you."
Immediate horror crosses his face.
"Jay."
"I mean it."
"You are not bathing me."
"Yes I am."
"That's humiliating."
Jay's expression softened sharply.
"Sweetheart, I found you sitting fully clothed on the bathroom floor at two in the morning because your depression got so bad you forgot how to care for yourself." Her thumb brushed against his cheek. "Humiliation station was about three exits ago."
Sam actually flinched a little at that thought.
Not from the cruelty and slight aggression, but because it is the truth.
"I hate this," he whimpered.
"I know."
"I feel pathetic."
"You are ill."
"I'm nearly thirty-seven and my wife is threatening to hose me down like a depressed raccoon."
That got the faintest possible smile out of her.
"Good," Jay murmured. "There you are."
Sam covered part of his face weakly with his hand.
"I don't want you seeing my like this."
Jay looked genuinely confused by that.
"Sam, I married you."
"That was before I turnt into… this."
Her face broke a little from hear that.
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead hard enough to interrupt him.
"You are not hard to love just because you're struggling."
Sam's eyes squeezed shut instantly.
Too emotional. Too vulnerable.
Jay stood carefully and reached for the shower temperature control.
"C'mon."
Sam groaned softly, "Jay…"
She glanced back at him.
And because she loved him so deeply, because she knew shame could spiral him darker if handled wrong, her voice gentle again swiftly.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know this feels awful.." Then with such heartbreaking tenderness, she says, "but I'm still going to bathe you if that is what you need tonight."
need tonight… need tonight… need tonight… need tonight…
Jay was absolutely drenched.
Her shirt clung to her completely. Water soaked through her pyjama bottoms. One sock had given up on holding it together entirely.
And yet, Sam sat on the shower floor looking deeply betrayed by the entire universe.
"This is undignified," he muttered weakly while Jay began working shampoo carefully into his curls.
"You lost dignity privileges when you tried to survive on nicotine and depression for a month."
"That feels very medically biased, Jessie."
"You proposed to a doctor, Samuel."
Warm water running down the tiles around them, Sam sat with his knees pulled loosely up while Jay gently rinsed shampoo from his hair using one hand shielding his automatically.
The tenderness of it almost hurt.
Not romantic tenderness.
Something old. Steadier.
The kind built from loving someone enough to carry them when their own brain is against them.
Sam's eyes stayed mostly lowered.
Embarrassed.
Exhausted.
Occasionally tearing up again for no reason he could explain.
Jay never commented on it.
She just kept talking softly while washing him. Little things. Grounding things.
What groceries they needed. How Luke nearly burnt the kitchen area down last week. How Tom texted her three times to ask if Sam liked dinosaurs enough to be willing to eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.
Tiny ropes tugging back toward the world.
At one point Sam whispered, barely audible beneath the water, "I'm sorry."
"No."
He stared down at the shower floor.
"You shouldn't have to do this."
Jay crouched fully in the water beside him then, soaked and all, and held his face gently between both hands.
"I need you to listen to me very carefully," she said haphazardly soft.
Sam finally looked at her.
"You are not disgusting for being depressed."
His face crumpled instantaneously.
"And you are not failing because you needed help bathing tonight."
A sob escaped him before he could stop it.
Jay pulled him forward carefully until his forehead rested against her shoulder.
The shower kept flowing around them while Sam cried quietly against her soaked through shirt, and Jay held him like loving him was the easiest things she has ever done, because it is.
Sam stayed folded against her shoulder for what felt like eternity.
The shower water ran warm over them both, fully soaking Jay in her clothing so much that they clung heavily to her skin. Her hair stuck damply to her cheeks. One sleeve was dripping steadily onto the floor.
And yet, she still stayed.
Sam's breathing trembled unevenly against her collarbone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, voice muffled and wrecked.
Jay sighed softly through her nose.
Not annoyed, just heartbroken that he kept apologising for suffering.
She leant back enough to look at him properly, water still running around them both.
"Sam."
He wouldn't meet her eyes.
"You need to stop treating depression like it's some personal moral failure."
His mouth tightened immediately.
"That's- that's not what I'm doing."
"Yes, it is."
He looked away quickly.
Jay softened her voice instantly.
"Honey… depression is not just being sad."
Sam gulped.
"It changes things." Her hand moved gently through his wet, now clean curls again. "Your energy. Your memory. Your appetite. Your ability to take care of yourself. Sometimes even moving feels impossible." She searched his exhausted face carefully. "You don't just get over that through guilt and self-hatred."
Sam's eyes stung as tears threatened to fall at the gentleness in her voice.
Because part of him genuinely believed he should've been able to force himself out of this by now.
Like he was failing some imaginary exam everyone else understood.
"I should be handling it better," he whispered.
Jay's expression cracked.
"Based on what?"
He opened his mouth.
And nothing came out.
Exactly.
Jay brushed water carefully from his face with the pad of her thumb.
"If you had pneumonia, I wouldn't stand over you going well, have you considered trying hard to just not cough?"
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped him.
"Your bedside manner is weird."
"You married me willingly."
"Debatable."
"There he is," she murmured softly.
Sam's eyes closed briefly.
Drained.
So unbearable drained.
Jay looked at him for a long moment before speaking up again.
"When we got married," she said quietly, "in our vows, we promised each other in sickness and in health."
Sam's nose scrunched quickly.
"Jay…"
"No." She shook her head gently. "You don't get to decide those vows only count when your suffering is convenient."
That one hit him hard.
He looked down instantly, eyes wet again.
Jay reached under his chin gently until he looked at her. Brown eyes to brown eyes.
"If you need help," she said softly yet firmly, "then I am going to help you."
Sam's breathing shook.
"You shouldn't have to."
"I want to."
The certainty in her voice nearly undid him. Jay glanced down at herself then snorted quietly.
"I am currently sitting fully clothed in a shower at two in the morning looking like a drowned Labrador retriever."
Sam laughed helplessly through tears.
Jay pointed at herself dramatically. "Does this look like the behaviour of a woman who doesn't care? Look very closely."
"No," he admitted weakly.
"Exactly."
Water dripped steadily from the ends of her hair while she smile softly at him.
"You are worth loving," she reminded him quietly. "Even like this."
Sam broke completely at that.
Not loudly, that almost made it sadder.
His face folded against her drenched clothed shoulder again while silent sobs shook through like high tidal waves.
And Jay held him. Completely soaked through to the bone but unwavering about it, like loving him through the ugliest part of illness was never something she intended to run from.
Eventually the water started turning cold.
Neither one of them had noticed when exactly it happened.
Jay finally leaned back slightly, pushing soaked hair out of her face while Sam remained curled tightly against her.
The bathroom look like a small flood had occurred. Wet towels. Fogged mirrors. Two completely drenched adults sitting on the shower floor, one clothed while the other nude, at an hour where only crackheads and hospital staff were usually awake.
Jay glanced at her phone on the sink counter.
3:07 AM.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered.
Sam, made a sleepy noise against her. "What?"
"It's three in the morning."
"Illegal time."
"Deeply."
She looked down at him carefully like he may shatter from one wrong word.
The heaviness was still there. Depression doesn't disappear just because someone bathed you, and listened to you, and loved you through a breakdown.
But he looked more present now.
Less hollow-eyed.
Like maybe some tiny part of him finally stopped fighting to survive alone.
Jay brushed her thumb softly against his damp cheek, swiping back and forth.
"You know what I think?"
Sam's eyes stayed half closed, feeling blissful from Jay's touch, "Mm?"
"I think you need curry."
One eye opened slowly.
"…What."
Jay nodded solemnly. "Medical opinion."
Despite himself, Sam let out a small laugh through his nose.
"You can't just prescribe curry."
"I absolutely can."
"It's three in the morning."
"And you haven't eaten properly in days." She tilted her head slightly. "Also I know you. If I asked whether you wanted toast right now, you'd say no. But curry?" A tiny smile pulled at her mouth. "Your brain at least considered it for half a second."
Sam looked so offended by how accurate that was.
"I hate it when you psychoanalyse me."
"I am literally a doctor."
"You are a menace."
"Yet here we are. Wet and emotionally attached."
That got another weak laugh out of him.
Jay smiled softly at the sound.
There he was again.
Small pieces of him returning slowly through the fog.
"You don't have to eat loads," she said gently. "Just something warm and satiating."
Sam leant his head back against the shower wall with a tired sigh.
Every movement looked heavy. Like gravity had a personal vendetta against him specifically.
But after a small moment, he admitted quietly. "I want curry."
Jay grinned immediately. "Called it."
"You manipulated me."
"Yep."
"You're evil."
"Sam, you're not the first to inform me about that matter."
Sam looked at her then.
Really looked at her.
At her soaked pyjamas. Mascara she had missed smudged beneath tired eyes. Hair dripping onto her shoulders. Still sitting on a freezing shower floor at three in the morning because he'd fallen apart.
His face started to fall again.
Jay noticed instantly. "Hey. Nu-huh. None of that."
"I just…" His voice cracked softly. "You're too good to me."
Jay snorted gently.
"Sam. I'm sitting in cold shower water wearing a sock that currently weighs about four pounds." She nudged his knee lightly with her one. "This is not glamour. This is marriage."
A broken laugh escaped his lips.
Jay stood carefully with all the grace of a Mothman emerging from a swamp.
"Right," she announced. "Operation Curry."
Sam watched her wobble slightly on the wet tile and immediately reached out on instinct to steady her.
Jay blinked.
Then smiled softly down at him.
Even now. Even like this. His hands still reached to protect her instinctively.
That nearly broke her heart all over again.
"C'mon," she said gently, offering him both hands. "Let's get dry, and clothes on you."
Sam stared at her for a moment before taking them.
Still exhausted. Still depressed. Still needing far more help than one shower and one bowl of curry could fix.
But for the first time in months, maybe not entirely alone with it inside his head anymore.