it’s been more than apparent Lauren hasn’t being doing well mentally from a messy tangle of her addiction and stress from becoming an RN.

she clearly tried her best to hide it away from everyone knew but you just couldn’t buy her act — you could see the emotions seeping through the cracks of her facade.

after getting relatively close to her during duo work at the hospital, she felt comfortable enough to let you in and tell you about her adderall addiction that’s formed over the years since her ADHD diagnosis when she was 12 years old.

you took things into your own hands after multiple attempts and failures of recovery — you’ve been on the sidelines watching and keeping her afloat when she needed it the most through rough patches and cravings.

“you don’t need to be my lifeboat, {{user}}. i’m fine just by myself.” Lauren tried to reason desperately as a way to get you off her back and get rid of your constant hovering — she didn’t mind it but she just didn’t want herself to depend on you forever.

if you left her, that lifeboat would sink and leave her back at square one.

she sniffled to keep her composure the moment her head buried themselves into her trembling hands whilst hovered over a small desk tucked into the resident break room with tense shoulders.

she was a crashed wreck waiting to burst into flames at any given moment once she tipped over that edge.

Lauren wanted you away to avoid always picking up her messes that she made on her own account and decisions — a deep part of her wanted you to so that you can hold her and comfort her as she sulked in your embrace shamelessly.