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Adaine raced down the hall in a dead sprint, head lowered, Oxford shoes squeaking against the cheap linoleum floor. The other students parted for her, gasping as she passed, but Adaine couldn’t see their faces or hear what they said— her vision was too blurry, her sense of hearing distant and echoey. Everything was so sharp when she was— oh lord, she’d been in a rage, hadn’t she, she’s a barbarian now— but now it was like those parts of her brain turned off, all their power used up, and the panic attack was going to hit her like a freight train any second now. All she knew was she needed to get out before that happened.
Her rage before was like a stream that looked placid but sucked you under and drowned you quicker than you could realize. It was almost comforting in its suddenness. Her panic attacks were more like a tsunami. Watching the water pull away from the shore was almost as terrible as the crushing wave after. She hadn’t bothered to check where the bathrooms were on her way in, but thankfully she managed to find them anyway, slamming open the door and stumbling into a stall moments before the panic attack hit. She collapsed on the toilet, burying her head between her knees and dragging in rough, painful breaths. Tears and snot flooded her face, a horrible shudder wracking her body. She’d fucked up, she’d fucked up so bad and it was the first day of school and everyone would know her as a fuckup idiot barbarian who wasn’t safe to be around.
The worst part was, she’d tried so hard to hold it back. She’d felt herself starting to rage, felt the anger get so intense it crossed around to the other side and knew she had to get out quick. But Vice Principal Goldenhoard hadn’t meant to remind her of her dad, didn’t see why she needed to leave now, and the only place without people to hurt was the restricted section and she’d decimated that priceless tome. She’d run out without even taking her detention slip, which doubtless put her in even more trouble. A fine start to a school year, sure. What more could a fuck up like her expect?
Adaine didn’t know what time it was by the time her breathing slowed and the tears dried, but classes had doubtless already started. So now she was late to class as well as a savage monster. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dried the tears that hadn’t already soaked her Hudol uniform, before standing up shakily and letting herself out of the stall. Her legs were a little numb— she must have been freaking out in there for a while— but she always felt a little off after a panic attack. She’d just have to walk it off. Adaine met her gaze in the grimy mirror. Her face was flushed pink, and her eyes were red and rubbed raw. Her cheeks were puffy and her lashes wet from tears. There was a bit of dried snot under her nose that she hadn’t managed to wipe off.
She looked almost as terrible as she felt.
The door creaked open, and Adaine nearly jumped a foot. “Whoa, girl, you look awful,” said the other student, and Adaine felt her chest tighten again at that, fresh tears welling in her—
“Whoa whoa whoa, not like that, not like that!” The girl shut the door, walking quickly over to Adaine, shoes clacking on the floor, long black skirt swishing over broad legs. “I mean, like, are you okay?”
“No,” Adaine either sobbed or laughed. She tore her eyes away from her own pathetic face to look at the other girl. She was an almost insultingly pretty Elf, with rosy copper skin and sleek brown hair, just a little taller than her. Warm brown eyes met Adaine’s, wide with concern. Her hand drifted up slowly to cup her face, head tilting to the side, and her skin burned where their skin met. She couldn’t really remember the last time an actual person had touched her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” the other girl said.
Adaine didn’t have any energy to resist, to try to keep her fragile pride. She nodded.
“Okay, good. Let me show you a super awesome trick,” the girl said. She grabbed a paper towel, folding it up and running it under cold water. “Hold this over your eyes. At least eight seconds each. Can you count with me?”
“Yeah. One-Galacea, two-Galacea, three—“
As Adaine counted, she felt her breathing slow, her heart calming to a more acceptable rate. The cold water felt really nice on her flushed, raw skin, and holding her eyes closed made them hurt a little less. “Good,” the girl said, and Adaine realized she was rubbing calming circles on her back. It felt so nice it hurt. “Feel better now?”
“Uh-huh.” Adaine took the towel away from her face and looked back in the mirror. Her cheeks were pale again, her eyes only barely bloodshot. “Oh, wow,” she said, in a voice that was only a little hoarse. “That’s, like, magic.”
The girl grinned. “Yep! Like you were never crying in the first place. I’m Figueroth, by the way.”
“Adaine.” She didn’t know what else to do, so she stuck out her hand for a handshake. Figeuroth snickered a little, but not cruelly, and shook it. “You’re, uh. You’re so nice.”
“Nah, not really.” She brought her hand up, almost brushing her hair back shyly, but evidently thinking better of it. Her hand dropped back to her side, and she rubbed her arm. “But, you know, you cry in enough bathrooms, you don’t really wanna see anyone else do the same. Anyway, I need to get back to class, but do you wanna get lunch with me? I don’t have anyone else to eat with anymore.”
How someone as awesome as Figeuroth would have no friends was totally beyond Adaine. She nodded dumbly. “Yeah, I’ll— I’ll see you there.”
Figeuroth smiled sharply. “Awesome! I hope we can be good friends,” she said, which made Adaine’s eyes well up with tears all over again.
At least this time she had a way to make them go away.