A Struggle

The canvas was white before her. Completely blank, each bump and dip was visible to her trained eye. Bubbles studied her paper intently, brushing a light fingertip over its surface.

It was perfect…and she hated it.

A frown pulled at her lips as she turned and considered the tray of pastels beside her. Which to use? The first choice was the most critical. It dictated the whole piece, what its mood would be, what emotion would be displayed. This decision was the most important.

She had already made up her mind though. The clean white surface was offensive to her so she'd go to the opposite end of the spectrum. Plucking up a midnight blue pastel, Bubbles smudged it across the breadth of the page.

There was a small satisfaction in marring the pristine surface. Nothing in the world was ever that pure or clean. Maybe things started out that way, but time and hardships dirtied even the most resilient. Nothing survived life unblemished.

Neither should her canvas.

Bubbles continued her calculated destruction. Her steady hand laid down a swathe of the dark blue before picking up a different shade. Her pallet stayed constrained. She stuck to variations of blues and purples. All of them were dark but dabs of teals and light gray kept the piece from becoming muddied.

Time ticked by as she layered more and more chalk onto the page. Bubbles didn't care to pay attention to it. Her sole focus was on the canvas and the image that had started to emerge.

It was impressionistic, but then again most of her art was. She could mimic realism but why? It limited the emotional impact of her work. There was so much that could be said with art, why shove oneself into a box of reality when the unknown could be explored?

That was her motto at least. Her artwork usually strayed into the realm of fancy. She loved the use of bright colors and whimsical strokes. There was no right or wrong to it. It was complete and total expression of her inner sun.

…but not today. Today her art reflected something…darker.

Bubbles sighed lightly as she deposited her pastel back into the tray and viewed her canvas.

A dark foreboding sky stared back at her. Its clouds swam turbulently through the air. Their weight was almost too much to stay aloft. A storm was brewing. Her inner sun was nowhere to be seen. Its warm rays were smothered by the violent swirling clouds filling the sky.

Her strokes across the page were the most intriguing part. They flew chaotically across the whole piece, leading her eye in a never ending mix of colors and shades. No matter which stroke she followed, it always seemed to lead her back into the chaos milling at the center.

What a frightening similarity. She often found that her thoughts of late had the same quality.

Another sigh pried itself loose and Bubbles rubbed at her cheek. A streak of chalk was now smeared down her face no doubt but she couldn't care less.

What did it matter? It was just dirt. Everything was dirty. There was no 'clean.' Even if she washed the smudge off, it would just get smeared on again somehow. Not the same place or the same tone, but eventually something else would mar her skin.

That was just how it was. A repetitive cycle that never changed.

…Was she still talking about the pastels at this point? Bubbles didn't know honestly. Thinking was hard. Concepts and ideas melded together in a veritable mush of thought and no matter how she tried to sort it out, it never untangled.

Why was that? Why couldn't she figure this thing out?

She wasn't necessarily depressed. What was there to be depressed about? She was a Powerpuff girl! Everyone loved her. She basically got to do whatever she wanted as long as she and her sisters took care of the occasional monster or villain.

Based on that logic, she should have been utterly carefree and happy.

…So why wasn't she? Why was her mind traveling down such dark roads lately? Normally she'd shake it off and focus on something else but today was different. For some reason she just…she couldn't-

…

"What is wrong me?" The blonde muttered out loud. "Why am I so…" Her voice trailed off as the ominous clouds once more captured her utmost attention.

Maybe this piece of art held a clue?

"…Why are you so what?" A voice unexpectedly replied from behind her shoulder.

Bubbles spun around with a gasp. A familiar young man stood over by the door with a paper bag gripped in his hand. The smell of fried food emanated from it and reminded Bubbles that she had agreed to dinner with Boomer tonight.

Her gloomy self-reflection had made her forget. Oh that wouldn't do. She couldn't let Boomer see her like this. It was unacceptable.

The Blue Puff did her best to banish the frown that had settled on her lips and replace it with a smile. "Boomer! You're here!...Early."

"Only by five minutes." He replied as he kept his eyes on her and made his way over. "Now what were you saying? Why are you so…what exactly?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You heard." He placed the bag next to her tray and took a closer look at her artwork. "That's…pretty dark for you."

"Dark? I suppose." Bubbles hesitantly replied.

Boomer viewed her picture for a few breaths before turning his eyes back towards her. "Anything on your mind? Something you want to share perhaps?" His tone spoke louder than his words and caused Bubbles to shrink back.

"Um…no?"

"That sounded more like a question than an answer."

"It was answer!" She fired back defensively.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Really?" His brow quirked up again.

Bubbles huffed and shot him a glare. "Yes, really really."

Boomer held her eyes for a moment before suddenly shrugging and turning away. He reached back and grabbed the grease stained bag. Digging in, the Ruff pulled out a sandwich.

"I got you onion rings with your chicken sandwich. Oh and honey mustard instead of ranch." He said as he set down her food and pull out the sauce in question.

Next came the onion rings, one of which he popped into his mouth.

"They're hot." He hissed around it.

Bubbles watched as he continued to unload their food, seemingly without a care in the world despite the intensity he showed just moments before. She wondered at that. How did he go to completely nonchalant in less than three seconds? It had to be a ruse.

"What? Not hungry?" Boomer asked around one of his fries.

Bubbles shook her head. "Not particularly."

He shrugged and snatched another one of her onion rings. "More for me then."

A smile danced across his lips as he hoisted himself onto the table top and tucked into his burger. Not one suspicious glance, no probing questions. The boy simply devoured his food with all the vigor of a man in his early twenties. Bubbles was almost willing to believe he had dropped the issue.

Almost.

She knew him too well to truly believe. Instead of addressing him, Bubbles turned back to her canvas. She absent mindedly snuck an onion ring as she gazed at her stormy sky.

Boomer was right. This piece was dark for her…yet at the same time it felt right. There was something about it that connected with her and it had nothing to do with the fact that she made it. There was something more universal about it. Perhaps that overcast, brooding feeling that rested inside her? That darkness that had been blanketing her mind these last few months?

What was with that anyway? She didn't used to be that way. She was a beam of sunshine, the happy one! Where had that happiness run off too?

…She didn't know. It was sad wasn't it? A person should be able to pinpoint what even had caused such depressive thoughts. They didn't occur without a reason…right?

That was something that had been bouncing around her head lately because no matter how she tried to find some trigger, nothing stood out to her. There had been no event, no horrible trauma that had sunk her into this oppressive mood.

Her joy had simply wandered off all on its own. There had been no rhyme or reason. Every day had just gotten harder and harder and harder.

There was no why, it just was.

And that was the worst part.

"You know…" Boomer's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "I think this is your best piece yet."

"What?" Bubbles asked incredulously as she turned towards him. "You just told me how dark and gloomy it was."

The Ruff shrugged, swallowing the last of his fries. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's any less moving. Makes it more so I think."

"What do you mean?"

Boomer shifted and dusted the grease from his hands. "Well think about it. Everyone knows what happiness is but every person's definition of it is different. Some people think money equals happiness, others the people they know and hanging around with them. You-"

He shot her a grin.

"-usually think puppies, rainbows, and a warm sunny day equate to happiness. It's a universal concept but people view it differently. But this…"

He gestured at the drawing and took it in for a moment. "When I look at this, I feel sorrow and a foreboding sense of what is to come. Fear. I think anyone who looked at this piece would feel the same."

The blond turned back towards her. "And if the goal of art is to communicate feelings, the artist's feelings specifically, then that means you've hit the mark. That's what makes it your best piece yet."

Bubbles stopped and chewed that thought over. He made a good point. Art was all about sharing emotions and ideas. That was its sole purpose. But then, what did that say about her and this piece?

"…So this is my best because it's so dark is what you're saying? And everyone knows what that darkness is like?"

A small chuckle rang through the studio as he caught sight of her confused look. "Yeah. You might not think it, but everyone goes through challenges and trials. Everyone has to face themselves when they're at their lowest, their darkest. It's a scary thing to face, like an oncoming storm that you can't avoid. Sure, you could try to out drive it but it'll eventually catch up."

"That's a depressing thought." Bubbles murmured as she turned back to her artwork. "There's no avoiding it huh?"

"Afraid not. It happens to the best of us as well as the rest of us." His hand landed comfortingly on her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean the storm stays there. It's a temporary thing right? There are season where storms brew practically every day. It's always a battle. Then there are also seasons where there aren't any storms at all. It's a cycle."

Bubbles leaned into his touch. "What if the cycle stops? What if the storms just keep coming? What then?" She finished in a near whisper.

Boomer was silent for a moment before he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You know, I don't believe that's possible. Nothing lasts forever. That just how life is. Now it may seem like these periods of rough weather last forever and maybe they do last a long time, but it's not permanent."

"You sound so sure of that." Bubbles' hands shook as they sat clutched in her lap.

"I am." Her counterpart replied simply. "There's nothing wrong with hating these stormy seasons, just as there's nothing wrong with the storms themselves. It's completely natural."

A few seconds ticked by. Boomer stood up from the table and came to crouch down before her.

"It's these storms and adversities that show us who we really are. Sometimes we're strong enough to weather them alone. Other times we're not and that's why we have loved ones. They're always around when we need their support."

The look in his eyes was so intense, so expressive, that Bubbles couldn't stop tears from welling up in her own eyes.

He knew.

He knew about the darkness that had been brewing inside her, those thoughts she tried to hide but couldn't keep back. He knew it all somehow. Boomer always was a perceptive person. It shouldn't have surprised her.

What did rightfully shock her was the look of understanding lighting his eyes.

"It's okay." He whispered, holding her gaze. "It's perfectly normal to feel like this. Does it suck? Yes, but regardless it's what you're feeling and it's valid. There's nothing wrong with you. Like I said, it's a seasons. It won't last forever."

"How do you know?" Her voice was hoarse and raw.

Boomer shrugged with a soft smile. "Simple…hope."

A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips and the Blue Puff shook her head. "Hope? How in the world am I supposed to have hope when I feel so, so-"

"Hopeless?" Boomer finished for her.

The tears clinging to her lashes finally broke free and trailed down her cheeks. Boomer's hand rose up to catch the falling drops that felt so eerily similar to the rain in her artwork.

"I know it's hard, almost impossible, and I don't really have an answer for you. Everyone has their own way of coping with these things. You just have to keep going, keep struggling until the storm finally passes…because it will."

He grasped her hands in his own. "And if you can't believe in that then believe in me and I'll believe in it for you. You're not alone Bubbles. It might feel like it, but you're not. So please…keep trying. If not for yourself, then for those who care about you."

He finished his plea by pulling her into his embrace. Bubbles melted into it and let her pent up emotions spill out onto his jacket. His hand rubbed soothing circles around her back and for the first time in a long time, Bubbles felt a sort of peace.

The clouds had finally begun to pour and the tension be released.

Did that mean she was magically all better? Oh goodness no. Not at all…but something had changed inside her. It was small and it seemed insignificant, but it was important. She knew that much.

"You're strong Bubbles and you are so important to me. Please let me help in any way I can."

The blonde pulled back and gave her counterpart a nod as she wiped the tears from her face. "Alright, I'll try."

Boomer's lips quirked up in a small smile and he nodded back.

Bubbles drew in a deep, shay breath and tried to center herself. The road ahead was scary. It could be short or it could be long. She didn't know how long it would go on but she'd see it to its end. She'd struggle on because that's all she could do.

True, she could always give up but the results of that would hurt worse than what she was feeling now. If Boomer was right and this was just an extremely long season of storms, then that meant it would end eventually.

And that was her hope. That's what she was clinging onto. She wanted to see the end of this. She wanted to feel normal again. It didn't feel like it would ever happen again but she had to hope it would.

Life was a struggle…but it was one she was planning on winning. The best part was that she wasn't alone.

Bubbles gave Boomer a watery smile and grabbed his hand. She pulled him up from the ground and off towards the door.

"Come on Boomer. Let's go outside. I could use a little sunshine."

END

A/N: Hey guys! Sandstorm here and I know it's been a long while since I've been on. Sorry about that.

Life has been super crazy these last few months. I changed jobs and am moving in a week. I also went through a rather long period of depression over the winter which is what fueled this story. I also wrote this for a friend who is going through some tough times right now and I hope that if they read this it will let them know that they are not alone.

Depression sucks guys. I will be the first to admit it. But it doesn't last forever. So if you're reading this and you're going through some tough times, let me be the first to say that it'll pass. You'll get better. Just have hope and fight every day. I hope you all have people you can rely on to help you through it like I had.

So yeah. If you liked the story leave a review and let me know what you think :D As for Misconceptions' sequel…I'm working on it! I'm still planning on putting it out January 2017 so don't lose hope! Hopefully I'll be able to sprinkle a few one shots in between then. We shall see :D Love ya guys! Have a great week!

PS. Forgive the typos and grammar mistakes. I wrote this super fast!