**wOw, I feel shitty. My mom had a hysterectomy. She can't get out of her bed, constantly crying, and I have to come home early from school to help her. I'm not answering comments. I'm not even going to bother answering questions about requests. Enjoy the oneshot.**

I rub my eyes tiredly. So much has happened this week, this month, this school year. Hell, I can't even process most of the bullshit I'm fed in my classes. I lie down in the grass, warm from the sun, but still damp from the early morning dew. 

"Y/n!"

I felt my head jerk at the recognizable voice. I turn to see John Egbert, my boyfriend, walking over to me. We regularly meet at the baseball field. One side of it was curved like a small hill and we decided it would be perfect for break, lunches, and after school shenanigans. I wave halfheartedly and place my head back down against the grass. He sat next to me and started messing with my hair.

"How are you doing, sweet tart?" He snickers at his little nickname.

"I'm well. How about you, John?"

 I look up at the semi-clear sky. A few cotton-spun clouds were drifting by and a plane flies overhead. John shifts down and tucks his arm underneath my head like a pillow. I curl up next to him, my face ending up in his blue shirt. It smelled like him; fresh air, slight bit of sweat, and a citrus wash. 

"I'm great. I'm seeing you today, aren't I?" 

I roll my eyes and he looks at me with concern. I usually laugh at his attempts to be suave, but today I feel out of it. I wrap my arm around his chest tiredly.

"Babe, you sure you're okay?" 

His voice was sweet, familiar, soothing. I couldn't help it when tears started leaking out. I sniffle as quietly as possible. He sits up and looks at me with alarm. I haven't cried in a while. I haven't cried in front of him before. I try to wipe away the tears, but they are faster then my hand. 

"No."

I sniffle louder and curl up in a ball next to him. I can see his helpless look through the tears. He looks so worried for me, so sorry for this condition, but I don't even know how to solve it. He pulls me up from lying on the ground into his lap and I hide my face in his shirt. I'm ruining it with my sadness, my overwhelming, seemingly endless, unsolvable sadness. John softly hushes me and traces circles into my back.

"It's okay, it's okay."

"You're amazing, Y/n."

"You can do this today."

I cry a little harder at his words, his soothing, calming, words. I'm so tired with being okay. In truth, it never feels okay, some things can't be okay, and we all have to put on masks saying it is. I can't do that anymore. Because, because I don't think anything is okay.

And I'm sick of putting a cover over my true feelings.

"Hey." I snap out of my thoughts as John forces me to look at him. His ocean blue eyes held sorrow and sympathy. 

"Hey, Y/n, please listen to me." His voice had a slight plead in it. I couldn't look away from him, even though I couldn't stand the sadness. The sadness he mirrored from me. 

"I know what you're thinking, and I know you can't see a way out of it.

But darling, I'm here for you and I'm here to tell you that you don't have to be okay."

I stiffened at his words. I'm so condemned to think that you must be perfect. You must be happy, beautiful, sexy, smart, funny, nice, perfect. His hand glided on my sides in a comforting way, his other one twisting in my hair to calm me down. 

"You don't have to be okay." 

He repeated this like a mantra. He rocked slightly, back and forth, back and forth, saying the words quietly and calmly. I close my eyes briefly to let the words wash over me.

I don't have to be okay, I don't have to be okay, I don't have to be okay.

I felt soft, plump lips kiss my forehead and John secure his arms around me like a protective blanket. I listen to him continuing his words and his voice going lower and lower, until sleep took over, the first time in three days. The first time since all of this crazy shit happened, I feel okay

I feel okay in his arms.