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“Fuck, shit-” Yoongi gasped out, his hands shaking as he desperately tried to fit the key in the lock. “Just go in, dammit.” his voice sounded distant as he felt it approaching -- the pure heated sensation that started from his head, went through his bones and seeped down into his soles.
Finally, the key managed to go in and he yanked the door open with a frenzy and pushed his way in, slamming it behind him, not caring how loud it sounded in the apartment complex. If the grumpy lady down the hall had anything to say about it, he would deal with her after he’s done sorting through his own shit.
Yoongi kicked his shoes off, stumbling, momentarily blind as his vision blurred with tears and his heart beat so fast and hard in his chest it was due to break through the barrier.
“Fucking damn it,” he let out an agonizing whelp and buried his head in his hands as he sank to the ground, his breath coming out in short, rampant breaths. He tried to control it, but his head was swimming as he could feel the panic pumping through him in his veins.
At that moment, it came and enveloped him in its darkness.
He had felt it slowly creeping up on him when he was on his way home, and sprung into a run to get to his apartment, to safety, away from prying eyes and anyone that might use him in his weakest moments against him.
Moments flashed behind his closed eyelids -- all the awkward moments of his crushes rejecting him, all the moments where he did something wrong and stood out from the crowd, the disappointed look on his parents’ faces when he failed an exam and their anger when he said he wanted to be a rapper and producer, the mocking laughter of other rappers in the underground that just saw him as some small guy from Daegu with a soft face and no means of potential, the comments made online by people that said anything and everything about him that was wrong, the self-hatred and the lonely nights where he gasped for a breath between the hot tears running down his cheeks and the fact that there was no one---no one---that could be there for him when the monster was at its worst.
Breathe.
Yoongi wasn’t sure if he told himself that or just thought that, either way his whole frame was shaking frantically and he just wanted it to pass. His lungs stung from the lack of oxygen and the wooden floor in front of him was covered in salted water. Fuck, he hated when it came to visit him.
The world felt as if it was ending, he supposed the world was ending. His heart was going so fast it was going to tear through his sternum and that will be the end of him, the end of Min Yoongi, before he even achieved everything he’s hoped for--before he could prove them wrong--prove them all wrong.
Fuck. Everything in his body was shaking violently without his consent.
In between the swimming thoughts in his brain and the rattle of his rings against the floor, he heard a voice slowly enter into his mind with an increasing concern the more he ignored it.
Then a pair of warm hands grabbed his shoulders and Yoongi realized how cold he had been. Cold in his skin while simultaneously hot in his blood.
“Yoongi, can you hear me?” the voice said and his eyes landed on a pair of knees in sweatpants that took place over the ocean of tears that had accumulated under him. Whoever it was did not seem to care that Yoongi just made a huge mess on the clean floor, and apologies started spilling from Yoongi’s mouth before he could stop them.
How dare he dirty the floor like that? Now the pants were stained with his worthless tears. Why did he always cause such an inconvenience to everyone around him?
“Yoongi!” the voice sounded more urgent, booming through his ears and the hands that were on his shoulders were suddenly holding his face. “Who cares about the floor? Look at me.” The palms felt strangely calming against his heated wet face. Yoongi lifted his eyes and they met a pair of worried ones.
Namjoon.
Oh, that’s right. He was staying over for the weekend. Yoongi had forgotten.
“What’s wrong, Yoongi?” the taller man asked, looking frantically around Yoongi’s face to try and decode what could be done to fix the situation.
“P-Panic at-tack.” Yoongi stuttered out, his voice practically non-existent and throat cracking drily from the effort.
A moment of understanding flickered through Namjoon’s features and, within the next moment, Yoongi was raised off his crouching position in the corridor and nestled against the taller man’s chest. Namjoon had smelled like his deep wood cologne and body wash that Yoongi had always made fun of him for.
“It’s okay, Yoongi. It’s okay. I got you.” he heard Namjoon’s calm, grounding voice and immediately fisted his hands into the man’s shirt as if it was his lifeline. His legs were also brought up with him and he wrapped them around the man’s lanky frame like a koala.
“Just breathe,” Namjoon murmured against his hair and a pleasant shiver ran down Yoongi’s spine despite the unending tremor of his muscles, “I’m going to count to three and you’re going to take the biggest breath in your life, got it?” Yoongi could hear the smile in Namjoon’s voice and wished his face wasn’t pushed against his neck so he could see those adorable dimples that showed up on the man’s face every time one of his shy smiles paid a visit.
“One,” he felt the man start moving, “two,” he could hear a distant sound of the door opening, “three,” suddenly the air in the room felt cooler somehow, “Go.”
And Yoongi breathed in like his life depended on it, his chest vibrating at the sudden amount of air intake.
Once he exhaled what must have been the largest breath he’s taken in minutes since the start of the attack he felt his body being pressed against something soft that had a distant smell of an all too familiar body wash.
And Namjoon was in his view again. He could see those dimples on the man’s face and Yoongi thought that if he had died at that moment from the thing that was consuming him -- it would have been okay because he would have died a happy man.
“Good job, Yoongi.” he felt the last of his tears being wiped away by the warm thumbs as Namjoon stared at him with softness in his eyes. “You did well. Just breathe, it will be over soon.”
Yoongi tried to open his mouth to speak but only a croak came out. His throat felt like sandpaper.
“Oh, you probably need some water.” Namjoon said after a brief moment and started to pull away when Yoongi grasped his hands that were still on his face and held them there.
“No, stay.”
Yoongi’s words were barely there, but they delivered the message.
The taller man surveyed him for a moment before crawling into the bed next to him and wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s smaller frame. Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief as he felt those slender fingers dig through his locks in a gentle, comforting manner. He let his muscles relax and eyes close as he leaned in closer to Namjoon, searching---aching---for his warmth (and the stupid smell of his cologne). Being held against his body felt like a safe little cocoon for Yoongi and he never wanted it to stop.
“You’re so good, Yoongi.” he heard the man whisper against his head and felt more tears threatening to spill. “The best. You are so amazing, Yoongi.”
And Yoongi choked out a whine when one of the hands moved down the back of his head to start massaging his neck. Tears were being shed now, but not because of fear, stress or anger.
“It’s okay, Yoongi. It will all be okay.” And a gentle kiss was pressed against his forehead.
In that moment, a softness bloomed in Yoongi’s chest that echoed that sentiment.