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She couldn't do this. Every single person who greeted her, brushed her shoulders on accident, sent her further into the abyss.
No, no, no.
Her skin was crawling as she vaguely excused herself from the 'party'. She wanted to tear it off, make it so there was nothing left to have this goddawful sensation on.
You cannot even celebrate with your team without becoming a burden.
The small part of her brain still struggling to think logically said to go to her room, that no one would find her in the middle of a breakdown if she hid there. The other, more shameful part that wanted to scream and cry and destroy her hair-skin-clothes said that she would be worse off if she went to her room, that someone might find her, that someone should find her.
It was disgusting that she could not even decide if she desired company in this frame of mind.
But they will pity you. All of them, as soon as they see you crying and sweaty and don't you deserve it?
She could only make it to a spare conference room before the tears and outright panic set in. A chair would not do, the table itself would allow anyone to see her, so she slid to the floor against the wall. Everything was wrong. Her hair was too greasy and it wouldn't stop touching her neck and no matter what she did it kept falling back.
Her clothes as well were wrong, wrong wrong. Her favorite dress, a knee-length one in peacock blue, clung to her stomach and arms in a way that made her want to scream. She could not even push up the sleeves without more distress, as her sweaty, disgusting, terrible hair would rub against the damp, goosebump-laden skin.
She had been whimpering this whole time she had been on the conference room floor, the only way she knew to vocalise her distress without crying. The tears would make the sweat worse, would make her worse.
Does it matter? Does it matter? Does it -
Where are your teammates? Your 'friends'? They would have known you weren't fine as you said if they cared, you know. Why haven't they come to find you? Surely the party is over and they simply left you here.
The tears began to fall, and she encouraged them. She deserved it. If her teammates did not care about or for her, she deserved that as well. She was not useful enough compared to those of them who had experience with a gun or a sword or a bow -
She had only managed to get more sweaty from her teary panic on the floor, which caused her dress to cling to her arms, stomach with every movement of her head, wipe of her eyes. Her hair was filthy, and she wished she had an implement that she could just shave it all off with. At this point she didn't even spare a second thought for the portion of her brain that wondered what the team would think if she did such a thing.
They would think no worse of you than every other mistake you have made.
It was to these thoughts that Satya heard the door creak open. She merely lifted her eyes high enough to see who had managed to find her and judge her. It didn't matter anymore, all that mattered was how tight she could curl in on herself and wish she was in a million tiny unfeeling pieces.
It was the Vishkar thief, Lucio. She, contrary to general belief, did not hate him, only equally spat back vitriol as he was apt to do. The fact that the one person on base who openly despised her had come across her sent Satya into another fit of hyperventilation.
He's come here to make fun of you, to scold you for being weak, for working for Vishkar -
She was slowly brought out of her inner struggle by a soft stream of calming words, phrases. With a final whimper that seemed to scream in the presence of another, she managed to pull her eyes to Lucio's face. Searching for the pity she knew so well.
His face was filled not with pity, but what the others she lived with told her was concern. It was another hidden form of the stuff, simply, although Satya didn't tell them this.
She let her eyes vaguely focus on Lucio as he eased his comforting babbling. At the sign that Satya was calmer than he'd entered to, he looked at her. "Yo, Symm, what's wrong?" This was when his eyes were laced with pity, she saw.
"Nothing.." she whispered, a whine tingeing her voice. Panic rushed through her at the realization. He'd think she's weak and pathetic and even worse than he thought -
Lucio caught her before she could delve back into her panic entirely, starting anew with the soft crooning of words of safety she wanted, needed.
Just when she felt that she might be able to converse with Lucio or even get up and return to her own quarters independently, a large lock of hair that had been tucked into her headset fell onto her neck, causing a full-body shudder that quickly became a battle between breathing and hyperventilating again.
"Hey, hey, hey. Symm, what do you need? What's bothering you?" The last question was a hurried, if quiet, addition after Lucio saw Satya's eyes grow fearful with the query of what she needed.
Too large a question, too many things she needed, nothing she could have.
She took a shuddering breath. "M-y hair is greasy a-nd it keeps sticking, and my dress won't fit right, and I'm filthy." None of these were the proper explanation, but they were all she could give.
Lucio seemed to understand, though, slipping over to the sink on the far side of the conference room to wet a paper towel and bringing it back to her. She wiped down her face, neck, the parts of her chest that were exposed, as much of her arms as she could get without ripping the sleeves.
Once she finished with her cursory wipedown and simply reverted to wiping the same areas again and again, Lucio spoke up again, still in the measured, quiet tone she appreciated so much right now. "Do you wanna go back to your room? You can go clean up for real, and everybody's still in the commons so nobody'll catch us going back there."
Satya took another deep breath, shuddering only slightly as the overstimulation was eased gradually. Her eyes drifted to a conference chair to the right of Lucio. Her voice was practically a whisper. "Alright."
Vaguely, she knew she was supposed to be in more control than this, leaning against a wall of the Watchpoint as Lucio walked her to her quarters, mindful to not touch her, for which she was grateful.
Entering her room was another struggle, as Satya knew she had to bathe before she would be able to feel any sort of peace necessary for sleep, but. She was so tired.
She had known Lucio didn't leave once he delivered her to her rooms, but it was still with a bleary look of confusion that she stared at him from her position in front of the tub-shower-thing. It was not its name, but she was too exhausted to figure out what it was truly.
"I'm gonna head back to my own room now, if that's okay." A jerky nod from her and he continued on. "I grabbed those PJs you had on the dresser, so here you go -" The shorts and t-shirt were deposited on the countertop. Good. Those were her nice pajamas, and would never cling to her unless she was being particularly uncleanly.
"Also, uh, probably would recommend against a bath tonight." Satya squinted at Lucio as he shuffled his feet and looked for a way to say what he wanted. "I don't think you actually wanna fall asleep in there."
Ah. That would be a fair argument against a bath. But she was so tired, and she was already forcing herself to stand upright instead of swaying as her body wished.
A fast shower then.
"Alright. Th-thank you, Lucio." The words came out harsh in the silence of her rooms, and they were only amplified in volume by the faint embarrassment left in her from having to rely on someone so entirely.
He gave her a not quite beaming smile, but still full of the comfort she had relied on over the evening. "Don't mention it. Sleep good, alright?"
Lucio left as she fiddled with the showerhead. Her quick shower turned into Satya catching herself falling asleep standing up against the shower wall, after which she pulled herself out and straight into bed.
Come morning, when Satya arrived to breakfast to find her favorite breakfast already made and waiting for her, she knew who it was, and smiled.