Work Text:
Charles
Sometimes the trigger isn’t something tangible or specific or really anything at all, sometimes it’s just me and my overthinking, overreacting brain deciding: Oh, let’s make tonight HELL.
And during this particular Tuesday, starting at around five PM, my anxiety starts bubbling. It climbs higher and higher throughout the evening like agitated soda rising and fizzing its way up the bottle as it goes. My ability to sit still lessens with every minute. I debate on whether or not I’d be able to eat dinner, but I debate for so long that I lose my appetite and retire to bed around 9:30.
Early to bed, huh? Not with my anxiety.
I suppose I’ve been keeping it relatively well hidden, because when Erik questions me about my early bedtime, I make up some stupid excuse about not having slept well the night before due to my telepathy, and he believes me. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in my own head, so of course he believes me. It’s not like he can tell whether or not my telepathy acts up unless I tell him, or it gets too bad to hide.
My anxiety isn’t bad enough that I can’t hide it, at least I think. I hope I’m right.
I throw on pajamas, get in bed, shut my eyes, and once I’m lying in the thick darkness and I’m alone with my thoughts, I learn that I was wrong.
It’s the silence that kills me. The silence around me is in stark contrast to the wailing in my head. I can’t think about ANYTHING without my brain turning it sideways and creating some reason why forgetting to brush my teeth is a good reason why I should end my own life.
I crush my pillow around my face. Turn over onto one side. The other. Try again the other way as if dull repetition will help. I clutch at the blankets. My foot is twitching, an anxiety response, bouncing back and forth, back and forth, it won’t stop, it won’t fucking STOP. I even try things like playing a movie in my head, picturing something fun I’ve done, or something fun I hope to do. Nothing works. Oh, you did something fun? Here are all the reasons why it was secretly embarrassing or humiliating. You hope to do something fun? Here’s every reason why you shouldn’t do it and you don’t deserve to do it. You don’t deserve to have that much fun, you insignificant, selfish, worthless, helpless–
The door to our bedroom opens. I pretend to be asleep, but not before I catch sight of the time: Almost eleven. I’ve been tossing and turning for an hour and a half. Great.
The bedside light clicks on. A pause, the rustle of clothes.
The blankets shift and a weight dips the mattress beside me. After a few moments, a warm hand rests on my shoulder, and I know it’s Erik, but my anxiety is making me so fucking jumpy right now so I can’t help but flinch, and I flinch hard.
The hand jolts away.
Silence.
“Charles? Are you awake?”
I don’t respond.
There’s a long, stretched-out pause as Erik contemplates whether or not to pry. I know he knows I’m awake.
Eventually, he gives up. He lies down and is asleep in a little over ten minutes.
I’m not. I can’t. My brain won’t let me. It keeps going, keeps going, keeps going, and soon the physical symptoms start. Nausea sloshes in my gut. I picture eating something, that makes it worse. My anxiety hasn’t prompted nausea in a long time. Shit.
My hands shake and I curl my shivering body into a fetal position under the covers. Hot flash, covers half-off, not good enough, I fling off my shirt, my pants, hot flash, still not good enough. My mouth goes dry and I swallow over and over again, trying to make it so I don’t have to get up for water.
I’m a soda bottle, I’m a fucking soda bottle. The anxiety is filling me to the brim, like a physical force, rippling just under my skin, trying to burst free, but it can’t break through my skin because it’s just emotion, and instead it breaks my BRAIN.
I’m anxious about nothing, about everything, about nothing at all.
I open my eyes and flop onto my back, staring at the ceiling as my eyes adjust. My rapid heartbeat booms in my ears. I glance at the time. Almost midnight. Two and a half hours. Goddamn it.
I throw away the covers, shove my clothes back on, and creep out of the room so I don’t disturb Erik.
I head into the kitchen for some reason and I start pacing. Circle after circle after circle. I run my hands through my hair, breathing in and out as deeply as I can manage. I ball my hands into fists and grimace as my brain turns yet another scenario into a world-ending event. I whack my fists against my forehead and quick bursts of pain blossom where my hands hit. Shut up, brain, shut up shut up SHUT UP–
I talk myself through consolations.
It’s fine, I’m fine. I’m fine… I’m all right… This isn’t gonna last forever… It’s gonna be okay… Your world isn’t ending…
I try to, at least.
I want to cry, to burst into tears and ride that wave until the anxiety has passed. But I can’t cry, the tears won’t come. I wish they would, because maybe that will release the crushing pressure pushing against my skin.
This is terrible. The world is terrible. My life is terrible. It always will be. I’m at the mercy of these cycles.
I’m a hollow shell and a dark, writhing mass is trapped inside with no way of escape. I’m gonna shatter into pieces if my anxiety keeps up like this. I can’t stay together for much longer…
I sit down and guide myself through breathing exercises. I succeed for maybe ten seconds, then I can’t bear sitting still any longer and I continue pacing and pacing and pacing and pacing and–
“Charles.”
Erik’s voice slices through the murky darkness.
I glance back him briefly and see him standing in the kitchen entrance. I catch his concerned frown, then go back to pacing. I can’t sit still, I can’t, I’ve tried. Sitting still makes it worse.
Erik crosses the distance and comes to my side, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Charles, hey. Why are you up so late?”
My body trembles in his grip and my breath shudders. I clench my fists against another surge of anxiety, resisting the urge to hit my head again.
Erik’s furrowed brow crumples deeper when I don’t respond and he lays his hand against my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I whimper and I drop my head into my hands. “I don’t-I don’t know, I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
“No, don’t-don’t apologize.” Erik rakes a gentle hand through my hair and hugs me against his chest. “You’re literally shaking, love…”
Something about this makes my eyes finally fill with tears and I press my face against the rumpled fabric of his shirt to dampen a sob.
A hand rests against the back of my head, fingers massaging the nape of my neck. “Is it anxiety this time?”
I nod and sink deeper into his embrace.
“Okay.” Erik cradles me in his arms. “It’s all right.”
Another sob escapes me and I cling to him as my breathing speeds up.
“Okay, breathe, Charles. Just breathe, you’re fine…” His chin bobs against the top of my head. “You’re all right, you’re gonna be fine. Breathe with me.”
I try to breathe in time with him, following the rhythm of his chest moving up…and down, up…and down.
“That’s it, you got it. Long and deep.”
Up…and down. Up…and down. More tears fall and I choke back a sob.
“Breathe, Charles.”
Up…and down. Up…and down.
“There you go. That’s it, good job. You’re doing great.”
We keep going like this, and I stay in his embrace until my breathing is almost back to normal and I can think about tomorrow without feeling like I want to drill a hole into my head.
I stir in his arms and Erik releases me, lowering his hands to my waist so I can pull away and look him in the eye.
Erik scans my tear-streaked face. “You okay?” he whispers, his breath tickling my nose.
I nod.
Erik squeezes my waist. “You sure?”
Another nod. “Sorry.”
“No, no, no, none of that. You’re not a burden, I’ve told you before.”
I inhale to counter against that–
“No, stop. Don’t say another word against yourself. I won’t let you.” He runs his hands up the curve of my back and settles them on my shoulders. “I don’t like to see you like this.”
I wince and drop my forehead onto his chest. “I know.”
“Did you sleep?”
I shake my head against his chest.
“Not at all?”
“No... That typically happens when it’s this bad. I go to bed early, and the moment I lay back to try and sleep, my brain decides to take every thought I have and turn it into some bullshit reason why I should– .” I stop short, realizing what I’m about to say. Nope, Erik won’t like that.
But Erik’s suspicion prickles on the back of my neck. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s…nothing.”
“Charles.”
I withdraw, but don’t look him in the eye. Instead, I fixate on a random stray thread on his pajama sweater.
“What were you about to say?” Erik’s eyes burn a hole into my head.
I grimace and stuff my knuckles into my eyes. “It’s not anything, it’s just… My brain takes all of my thoughts and turns them into…suicidal ideation.”
A lengthy pause.
Erik tilts my head up, staring intently at me. The deep worry in his eyes leaks into my mind. “Is that something we need to address?”
“No, it’s fine, I– .”
“That’s serious.”
“It’s not uncommon for me to– .”
“Charles, do I need to be worried?”
“ERIK.” I grab both of his hands and gaze into his eyes. “I’m fine, I promise. When I’m like this, I…have those thoughts a lot. Constantly, some nights. But I don’t do anything to myself. I’m not going to. I know now that it’s just…part of what happens.” The worry in Erik’s eyes hasn’t lessened all the way, so I add another consolation. “When I have a bad night, they come regardless, but they’re just thoughts.” I clasp his face with both of my hands. “I’m okay. I’m not in danger. Those thoughts just happen. I expect them. It doesn’t make them any less shitty, but…I know they’re coming.”
Erik lets out an audible sigh. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He scrubs his face with a hand. “You promise you’re all right?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Erik kisses my forehead. “I love you.”
“Mmm.” I nestle against his chest. “Love you too.”
“You feeling well enough to go back to bed?”
I debate over my answer for a minute. No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m still nauseous. My mind feels like it’s been run over by a cement truck. Erik’s arms around me bring with them the sleepiness that I had so desperately been waiting for earlier.
“Can we just…” I curl my arms into my chest and melt into him, “…stay here? For a bit?”
“What, hugging?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Yeah, of course.” I can hear the smile in Erik’s voice.
For once, the silence that follows doesn’t destroy me. Erik starts rocking me, back and forth, back and forth, which adds an unbearable weight to my eyelids. They slip shut and I lean into Erik…
Erik supports my weight and lowers me to the ground. He settles himself on the kitchen floor and puts my head in his lap. “You falling asleep?”
I give a satisfied hum in answer.
“Right here?”
I don’t respond. My consciousness is slowly leaving me…
Erik leans down and presses a warm kiss to my temple. “Good night, Charles. Sleep tight.”
I curl up on the floor, snuggling closer to him, and the last thing I feel is Erik’s strong, protective arm around my back and a tender set of fingers smoothing my hair back.