Work Text:
Erik
I flip another page in my book. The scene unfolds before me, flashing with color and life, wheeling with fantastical elements that string together in a thumping vein of a story. The scene comes to life, as do the characters, and the world sings on the pages. Delicate and terrifying, harsh and beautiful, not all fiction does this for me. Some pages are just that– pieces of paper with black letters on them. Some pages are not pages, they are a rallying cry, a painting, an echo of every emotion I’ve ever had the capacity to feel.
This kind of fiction is the right kind of fiction, what all stories should be.
I dance onto another page and let my mind build the world up from the ground. A Saturday evening in the library has turned into a quest for answers, and the plot beckons. But it is no longer a plot, it is someone’s life, the intertwining events that have led them to this place. I am just along for the ride.
The fire fumes in the hearth. The logs crackle with sparks and bits of burning coal. The heat plays with the story in perfect harmony.
I’m so sucked in that I don’t realize at first that Charles has entered the room. His feet bob around over the top of my book. I greet him without looking up. “Hey.”
“Hey…”
I slot my mind back into the story in my book and start from where I’d stopped.
“Um…” Charles’ voice trembles almost beyond recognition.
This time, I look up, and finally notice him. He’s standing in front of me, clenching and unclenching his fists, and his entire body is shaking uncontrollably, down to individual strands of his hair. He inhales, and his breath catches in his throat. “I-I think I’m…having a panic attack…”
A sharp pang of concern runs through me, hot and almost painful, but I try to keep it contained for his sake. “O-okay.” Without even marking my page, I set the book off to the side and cross the room to get to him. I put my hands on his shoulders, and his muscles clench up under my touch. He’s shaking so hard that his shoulders fight against the steadiness of my hands. “Okay, let-let’s sit down.”
I lead him over to the couch and sit him down. I don’t sit next to him, instead I crouch down in front of him, moving my hands over to his neck so we have skin-to-skin contact.
Charles’ eyes dart around the room, and he can’t seem to focus. His breath huffs on my wrists, wheezing through gritted teeth as he hyperventilates.
“All right, Charles? Look at me.” I fight to keep my own voice from shaking. I’ve never seen him like this before. I’ve heard of panic attacks, I’ve never had one myself, but Charles had told me when we got together that he has them occasionally. He’s said that ever since he was a child he’s had them, but he’s always been hesitant about whether or not he has a diagnosable disorder or mental health condition.
My own heart is beating crazy fast and my own anxiety is at a feverish high, but I can’t afford to get trapped in my own head. With Charles’ history of mental health problems, it was bound to happen eventually, and Charles needs me.
Charles’ chest shudders up and down. His hands sit in his lap and he rubs his fingers against each other in little circles, pressing down hard against his knuckles.
I move my own hands down to hold his.
Charles whimpers. “My-my hands are numb…”
I give them a gentle but firm squeeze. “Can you feel my hands?”
“Um… Yeah. Kind of…” He lets out a muffled sob. The fire illuminates the tears flooding into his eyes. “It’s… They’re tingling, and…pins and needles, I…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. A few tears plummet from his eyes and he lets his head fall against his chest. A few sobs escape him and his shoulders shake.
I rest one of my hands against his cheek. “What do you need?”
“Just…talk about something.”
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“Anything, please, it’s…” He grimaces and his breath speeds up even more. “Just anything…”
“Okay, uh…” I catch sight of my book off to the side. “So I’ve been reading this book and…” Whether or not it’s the right choice, I decide to poke fun at him to see if that will distract him: “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, it’s called The Lord of the Rings.”
Charles scoffs through his tears. “Fuck you…”
I smirk. “What’s the inscription on the ring?”
“Uh…” Charles clenches my hand in a death grip and he exhales forcefully. “I-I can’t breathe, Erik…!”
I stroke his tear-stained cheek with my thumb. “I know, darling, just-just try. Only once, if you can. It’ll help distract you.” I hope.
Charles curls into himself, one hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion. “One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to…to, uh…” He trails off, breathing hard. After a few moments’ pause, he whines, “I can’t think, I can’t…” He dissolves into tears again.
“It’s okay. Just try again when you can. From where you left off.”
Charles hyperventilates for a few more seconds, then starts again. “One Ring to find them…one Ring to bring them all and…in-in the darkness, bind them.” He crushes my hand in his grip, his nails cutting into my skin. “In the Land of Mordor, where the Shadows lie.”
I caress his shoulder. “How are you feeling now?”
Charles doesn’t respond. The only sound is his ragged breathing.
“Charles?”
“My mouth is all tingly… I can’t…I can’t stop shaking…” He winces, attempting to breathe long and slow.
“That’s right, breathe. Try to breathe, just like that. Good job.” I keep one hand in his grip and put my other one on his knee.
“Keep talking,” Charles wheezes.
“Okay, uh… Well, I helped Alex train today. He had to work on his accuracy, so I went down into the bunker with him and threw chunks of metal at him. He did pretty well despite the unstable nature of his powers. I’ve been reading a lot, like you know. I’m on The Two Towers now. I just reached the chapter where Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas are hunting for the Uruk-hai. It kind of reminds me of…me, actually. With how I’ve been hunting Shaw all over the world.”
“You calling yourself Aragorn?”
“More like Legolas. Light-footed and sexy.”
Charles laughs, sounding slightly better.
I go on. “I finally had some of that sandwich bread that you bought the other day. It was delicious, you should definitely get it again. I’m surprised that I was able to snag some before Sean or Alex gobbled up all of it. Those boys eat so much, I can barely keep up.”
Charles uncurls himself, breathing much slower.
“What kind of bread was it that you got?”
“Sourdough.”
“Right. That’s definitely my favorite kind that you’ve gotten.”
Charles slumps back against the cushions, looking exhausted. “I guess I’ll have to get more then.”
I pat his knee. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah.” He runs his fingers against his knuckles. “I can feel my hands fully again.”
“That’s good.” I get up and sit next to him on the couch. “So what happened?”
“Hmm?”
“To trigger that. You said a while back that you have panic attacks occasionally, but…you were fine earlier. Did anything trigger it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think so. Sometimes, they come out of no where.” He reaches over and holds my hand. “Thank you, love. I know you’ve never seen me like that before, and you handled it wonderfully, so…thank you.”
“Of course.” I lean toward him and kiss his cheek. “Always.”
He drops his head onto my shoulder. “I debated on whether or not to come to you.”
“What? Why?”
“I didn’t want to scare you. Sometimes the attacks aren’t that bad and I can get through it myself. But earlier, my hands started to go numb and I couldn’t stop hyperventilating, and then I knew I needed someone.”
“I’m glad you came to me. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty scary to see you like that, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything alone.”
Charles snuggles up closer to me, turning his body so he’s lying more fully against me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Charles inhales deeply, and exhales, long and restful. “Mmm. Breathing is nice.”
I chuckle despite the situation. “I’m sure.”
We cuddle in silence for a bit, my book forgotten beside me, the fire whispering in the hearth. I run my hand up and down Charles’ shoulder. After a long few minutes of resting in each other’s presence, Charles speaks again:
“Do you think I have a mental health disorder?”
My hand stops. “What?”
“I’ve thought about it a lot.”
I stay silent for a moment. “What do you want me to say? I don’t really know how to respond to that.”
“Sorry.” He sighs. “I know I definitely have depression. I don’t need a doctor to slap a label on me to know. I mean…confirmation might be nice, but it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise.”
I swallow hard, wincing. “I…would agree. Maybe.”
Charles reads the hesitance in my voice. “You can say it. It’s okay, it’s just the truth. The amount of nights that you’ve caught me crying in our room or asked about me when I go quiet… All that is evidence in itself. Not to mention what my mind goes to whenever I’m like that.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m sorry you have to suffer like this.”
Charles puts one of his hands on my chest and pushes himself up so he’s gazing into my eyes. “I have you. The shadows don’t feel so long when I’m in your arms.”
A warm smile settles onto my face and we come together for a tender kiss. Charles reins me in with my sweater curled in his fists, and he eases himself into my lap. I hold him close to me, and we continue to love on each other slowly as the fire fades into sparks, then the sparks into shadow.
It’s all gonna be okay. Charles will be all right, and in each other’s arms, there is nothing we can’t tackle together.