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“I feel wrong.”
She tried to focus on his face: the crease between his eyebrows, his blue, blue eyes staring at her with concern, the way his lips moved as he asked her something. What was it? ‘What’s wrong?’ What is wrong? The world felt wrong. Her vision was… off. Lagging. Her heart was pounding in her chest – reflexively, she checked her pulse, but it wasn’t fast – what is this? She tried to inhale as deep as she could, but it was like there was half as much oxygen in the air as usual. He was reaching for her – when did he get up from the couch? – don’t touch me.
“Don’t,” she managed, holding a hand up.
“What is it?” His voice was nice. She liked when he talked.
“I… like, I’m fine? But my body is… freaking out? But my brain is calm. I don't understand what's wrong.”
She was on the couch now – she could almost remember walking here. “You’re having a panic attack,” he was saying as he knelt on the floor in front of her.
“But I’m not panicking.” It was like she was taking a joyride in someone else’s body, minus the joy. Why were her cheeks wet? She closed her eyes and forced herself to inhale, slowly, through the nose. Hold for a few seconds. Slow release. Her stomach ached. She realized she’d been tensing her muscles, and tried to release them, but as soon as she did, she realized they were tense again. She carefully laid back, and her eyes followed the brushstrokes of white paint on the ceiling, to where they blended with other brushstrokes, swirling and mixing and going nowhere. Tears oozed slowly out of the corners of her eyes, down past her ears, ending in uncomfortable wet spots on her T-shirt. Did she want water? “In a minute.” But there he was, placing the water on the table next to her. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. She reached out, and he took her hand. His skin was warm, rough in places. She traced her thumb absentmindedly over his knuckles.
“What are you feeling?”
“Uh…” she considered this. “I don’t know? I’m… it’s like I can’t even control myself anymore. Nothing was wrong, there was no trigger. I wasn’t even thinking anything negative. Why am I crying? I’d like to stop.”
“Sometimes they’re like that.”
She pulled herself up into a sitting position and he settled next to her, reaching for the water and pulling her gently to his side. Somehow, James always knew what she needed. She considered the water for a moment, feeling the temperature through the ceramic of the cup, anticipating how it would feel in her mouth and sliding down her throat. She didn't want to.
“It’ll help,” James promised.
It did help. It was difficult at first, but she managed a few sips, and then the cup was empty. She shifted to straddle his lap and hid her face against his neck. “You smell nice,” she mumbled, feeling his amused little exhale. He gently wrapped his arms around her, hand stroking down her back, and she timed her breaths to match his, slow and steady. In and out. In, and out. She felt entirely disconnected from the passage of time - how long had she been here? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? The world was reduced to just her and James, the rhythm of breathing, and the comforting feeling that his hug was somehow literally holding her together.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Falling asleep.”
“Wanna go to bed?”
“Too far.”
It never failed to amaze her, how effortlessly James stood up with her still in his arms. The bed was heaven – no matter how many years she slept on satin sheets, the blissful feeling of sliding underneath the blanket would never get old. She turned over towards him and rested her head on his right shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing the length of her body tight against his side.
“Today was really nice.”
“Despite the panic attack?”
“Definitely. All the days I spend with you are nice.”
“Aww.” He chuckled, kissing her forehead. “All the days I spend with you are nice too.”
“We’ve gotten disgustingly sappy.”
“It’s absolutely nauseating,” James agreed.
She hummed, a soft, satisfied noise, feeling herself begin to drift off. “You’re my favorite person,” was the last thing she managed to say before falling asleep.
James smiled up into the darkness, feeling the little wave of giddiness run through him. There was no way hearing her say that would ever not have this effect on him. He could hardly believe this feeling of utter peace, hearing her breaths slow down as she fell asleep next to him, knowing that she craved his presence and felt safer in his company than anywhere else in the world. He tried to stay awake as long as he could, attempting to commit every sensation to memory, until at last he drifted off into unconsciousness, safe in the knowledge that even if there were nightmares tonight, they would face them together.