Work Text
Nathaniel was attempting to pay attention in class when it started. He could feel the anxiety rising in himself. He knew that he needed to get out of there. He needed to go to the bathroom or somewhere similar where he could deal with whatever was coming privately. He definitely did not need to have a full blown panic attack during class. He attempted to put his hand up to ask to go to the bathroom, but his arm wouldn't obey him. He couldn't move or talk. Everything was blurring and spinning. Finally, he just got up and stumbled out of the room, ignoring the calls of his teacher. Everything was a blur. He sluggishly walked somewhere, anywhere. He had a vague idea of where he was, but it was all confusing in his mind. Nathaniel tried to focus on his breathing and grounding himself, but it was too much. He couldn't feel anything. He was floating in a state of nothingness. He finally stumbled into some sort of closet and sank to the ground. His knees came up to his chest, and his head, heavy as bricks, finally flopped down to rest on his knees. The panic was at least settling as he was able to finally just be and not have to worry about talking, or feeling, or anything. He could breathe, or at least, that's what he guessed. His mind was blank as he just sat, not moving. His body was drained of energy, and his eyes were just barely open. Nothing was surrounding him. He felt like he was floating in a sea of nothing and yet everything. Everything that he touched wasn't there. Nothing that he heard was real. Nothing he saw reached his mind. His stomach was churning, and he was sweating. He couldn't move. Was he dead? Was he dreaming? He didn't care. He didn't like this. He felt out of control. He felt like his body wasn't his. He felt like he was a ghost possessing someone he'd never seen before. Through the closet door, he heard a few people calling for him. He wanted to tell them to shut up and to go away. He wanted them to leave him alone. They didn't leave. They kept talking. Kept yelling. To him it sounded like screams. It sounded like hell. He needed it to stop. He needed out. He needed OUT. A small whimper slipped from his throat. The small noise itself made him want to cry. What's happening? Nathaniel curled in on himself even more. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to know what was happening. He was... he was slipping. He was slipping into the sea of nothing. He was drowning. It felt weird to breathe. Was he breathing? Was this what breathing feels like? He didn't know. He couldn't think. His brain was just empty. It wasn't necessarily the depressive kind of empty; he didn't feel like anything was significantly missing. There was just nothing. His body was shaky. He didn't understand why. He felt off-balanced, even though he was sitting. Nathaniel had no idea how long he had sat there, unmoving. He barely registered the sound of someone calling his name. He groaned quietly, wanting them to go away and stop talking. The noise hurt. He was pleasantly surprised when the voice stopped. A moment later, his heart jumped as his phone rang. He sluggishly moved to turn it off, but the damage had been done. He pressed against the wall as the door opened. "Nathaniel?" Marc called softly. He immediately grew concerned as he saw the state Nathaniel was in. "Hey, what's wrong?" He knelt down and closed the door behind him. "Hey, can you hear me?" Marc whispered, turning on his phone's flashlight and setting it on the floor to make sure that it wasn't completely dark. After a moment of hesitance, Nathaniel finally slowly nodded. "Ok, good. Can I touch you?" Nathaniel immediately shook his head. He didn't need any more overwhelming sensations to deal with. Marc's talking was bad enough. "Alright, I won't touch you, I promise. Are you having an attack?" At that, Nathaniel paused. Was he? He had never had a panic attack that felt like this before. He finally just shrugged in response. "Are you breathing alright?" Marc asked. Nathaniel figured that he was breathing well enough and nodded. "Good. You're doing great, Nathaniel. Do you want me to play some music?" Marc knew that soft music helped Nathaniel with milder panic attacks most of the time and was surprised to see him shake his head no. "Alright. Um, do you want me to sit here with you?" Nathaniel hesitated. He didn't want to be a burden on Marc, but his presence was sort of calming-when he wasn't talking too loudly, that is, and for Nathaniel, right now, almost any noise was too loud. After a moment he finally just nodded. Marc smiled softly at him and shifted to sit next to him. Marc went silent and typed on his phone as Nathaniel stayed in place, still very much out of sorts. He slowly started to finally come back to earth after a bit. He uncurled himself and, still somewhat sluggish, leaned against Marc's side, his head resting on Marc's shoulder. "Feeling a bit better?" Marc asked. Nathaniel nodded. "Good. Take all the time you need. I'm here." A little while later, Nathaniel watched through half-lidded eyes as Marc typed ideas for their comic into his notes on his phone. He couldn't quite tell what every word was, everything still kind of blurry, but the small movement to concentrate on was sort of helpful. Marc noticed him watching and smiled, relieved to see his boyfriend feeling a little better. He was still very worried, especially since he still had no idea what was happening, but at least Nathaniel was looking more alert now. They sat there for a bit longer until they heard a large group of people walking past. "I think classes are done for the day," Marc said quietly. "Do you want to head home in a few minutes?" Nathaniel picked his head up from Marc's shoulder and nodded. Marc smiled at him and shoved his things back into his bag and got up, sticking out a hand to help Nathaniel up. Nathaniel got up on his own, still not wanting a lot of physical contact, especially on his hands. Marc stuck his hand in his pocket, not offended in the slightest. The two had discussed the different boundaries after a panic attack. He opened the door, shielding Nathaniel from the other students' gaze. They headed out of the school and started walking towards Nathaniel's home. As they walked, Nathaniel came back to himself more. He looked around more, now less sensitive to movement. He was still shaky and a bit lightheaded, but it was certainly better. They were only a few minutes away from Nathaniel's home when Nathaniel finally reached out to grasp Marc's hand lightly. Marc looked at him with a smile. "Are you feeling a little better?" he asked. Nathaniel nodded with a small smile of his own. They walked the rest of the way hand-in-hand, but silent. Now that Nathaniel could actually think again, he was scared. What had happened to him? Was this going to happen again? What was happening?