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The entire Archival staff was nervous.
The explosives were already bought, it was just the matter of putting them in the correct places and setting them off at the correct times.
And Martin was fine.
He wasn't worried about the ritual at all.
But what if something went wrong? What if they get captured by the Stranger and he never sees them again? What if they die and all he can do is just sit in the archives, burning the goddamn statements.
Martin realized he was spiraling.
He should calm down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
But what if Tim dies? What if Jon dies.
Oh god what if they both die?
There's a high chance for that.
Martin doesn't like the odds.
Breathe Martin, breathe.
They don't know the entities. What if they're more dangerous than they anticipated?
Oh god.
Breathe, Martin, for fucks sake. Breathe.
Everything else seemed blurred. He felt his face was wet. When had he begun crying? He tried to rub the tears away, but he was shaking too much to succeed. Why was he shaking?
Suddenly he remembered the worms. The ghost of a feeling from months ago sent a chill down his spine.
Breathe Martin.
Breathe.
Why can't he just fucking breathe?
“-rtin, breathe!”
That wasn't his voice. It was blurred by the ringing in his ears, but he knew it wasn't his own. He attempted to look up, but tears fogged his vision.
“Martin, can you hear me?”
He could hear them. He distinctly recognized the voice but he couldn't pin it down to anyone he knew.
He tried to reply, saying that yes, he did hear them, but his voice caught in his throat. All that came out was a choked sob.
“Okay, um- how about this.” The person took his hand. He could feel the roughness of their skin, along with the soothing warmth. It made the shake lessen, if only by a little. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. Okay?”
He squeezed their hand weakly.
“Okay… Can you try to breathe?” They asked. After half a second they added, “squeeze once if yes, twice if no.”
Martin squeezed the warm hand twice.
“What if I put your hand on my chest? We'll breathe together.” With the confirmation of another squeeze, they did as they said before taking a deep breath.
Martin tried to follow as best as he could. He closed his eyes, putting his entire hazy focus on the breathing of the other person. He could feel the soft fabric of the t-shirt they were wearing; there was some kind of a print on it, coming off in small patches. He focused on the texture and on the steady heartbeat underneath.
He barely noticed when he started breathing regularly. He opened his no longer tearful eyes to see-
“Jon? What-” Martin suddenly blushed. He withdrew his hand, noticing that it was still on Jon's chest. “Uh- why- how did you know how to help me?”
Martin face-palmed internally. Out of all the questions? Really?
“I used to get panic attacks all over my college years, had some people help and teach me how to help.” Jon replied. “Er, at least I hope I helped you?” Martin smiled fondly.
“You did, thank you.” He said. A beat of silence followed before he spoke again. “Why did you help me though?”
“Oh, well- Um-” he was stunned by the question. “How could I not? I'm not just gonna leave you for dead. Not that you would've died but- you know-”
Jon was about to explode from embarrassment, but luckily he was saved by Tim slowly walking in with a cup of tea. He settled it down next to where Martin was sitting on the floor (when did he even get on the floor? He was sitting at his desk just a few minutes ago) and smiled sheepishly.
“Thank you, Tim. How did you know I needed it?” Martin questioned as he took a sip of the tea. It was Jasmine with honey, his favorite.
“I was passing by and saw you absolutely wrecked on the floor with Jon right here helping you, so I thought you might need something to help you calm down. Besides, of course, Jon's very odd knowledge on panic attacks,” he looked at Jon with the last sentence. “Right, why do you know that stuff?”
“College years weren't the happiest days of my life,” Jon replied, looking down and shrugging.
“Okayyy…” Tim looked back at Martin. “Martin, if you need to talk, I'm always here. This whole situation is so stressful, I myself don't know how I'm surviving,” he laughed a weak laugh. “But really. If you need help with anything, we're here. Right Jon?”
“Yes-Yes, of course!” He said. “I think you should take the rest of the day off, Martin. Or, of course, if you don't want to be alone, you could stay on the sofa in the break room. Whichever suits you best.”
Martin smiled so wide, he thought he would cry again.
“Thank you both. Really. I appreciate it so much, you have no idea,” he took another sip of the jasmine tea. “Now don't mind me moving to the sofa with a good book.”