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Eddie? Venom asked him as he dug his too-short, bitten nails into his palm.
Eddie clenched his jaw, not answering because he couldn’t.
Eddie? Venom sounded uneasy. Which, yeah, made sense, but didn’t help Eddie’s already rocky state.
What’s wrong?
Eddie almost wheezed. Because that was the fucking point wasn’t it? Nothing was wrong, and he knew this, he knew that he was safe, that everything was fine. But his fucking body didn’t agree. No, fuck that, his body was overreacting over something stupid.
Forced into a reaction because someone walked on the bus, someone who looked like-
Eddie tried to force his thoughts elsewhere. Tears rolled down his face as he tried to control his breathing, too shaky and quick and shallow. Shit, he was breathing too hard, he had to try to make it less obvious his body was throttling down the tracks towards full-blown panic. Aim for even breaths, yes, like that.
His heart was hammering inside his chest. He could vaguely feel Venom swirling around there. Or maybe that was his lungs constricting.
He blinked away his blurring vision, slouched, pulled his hood up and kept his head down. Anything to try and not draw attention to himself. Dammit, he wished there weren’t so many people on this shitty bus. It was rush-hour, and he’d been forced to stand when he saw a woman walk on.
A woman who looked too much like Maria.
He always felt deep-rooted guilt about Maria. He wished he could have saved her at the Life Foundation. Wished he could have gotten them both out. But if it hadn’t been for Maria, if Venom had been in anybody who Eddie didn’t recognize, Eddie wouldn’t have tried to break them out. Venom wouldn’t have transferred to him when Maria died.
He fucking hated thinking about Maria, about the conflict of how her death led to one of the best things that happened to him.
Fuck. He knew it wasn’t his fault. He knew. But still. He was disgusted with himself for equating a loss of life to somehow being good, even if it did brush the truth.
He was ashamed. It made him hate himself.
Fuck he deserved this, he deserved to feel like hell, he deserved every piece of shit life threw at him because he let someone die and-
He needed to get a grip. His spiraling thoughts really weren't helping his panic attack.
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Not my fault, not my fault, not my fault,’ he tried to remind himself with every quick heart beat.
Eddie, Venom consoled, oddly hushed.
He barely heard them.
He felt Venom take control of his body, he felt them force his lungs to expand, resulting in a quiet gasp from Eddie. Felt Venom swirl over his shoulders and arm.
Breath, please Eddie, Venom soothed.
Venom’s voice made a few more tears slip out. How did he deserve this? Why should he have been so lucky when others weren’t?
God, he was so fucking pathetic. He couldn’t even breathe without help.
I’ve got us, Eddie. It’ll be ok. Venom reassured. You’ll be ok Eddie.
Eddie gulped air around the lump in his throat. Venom’s reassurance helped to ground him, at least somewhat, their voice familiar. A sweet rumble through his mind. At least it helped him to focus on Venom and not entirely on his body.
Eddie tried to silently take a deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out. Just like his therapist taught him.
Remember the anxiety sensory technique?
Eddie nodded subtly. An anxiety technique to help anchor him. See, touch, hear, smell and taste. He breathed in shallowly, but slowly. Trying to regain control of his breathing.
He inhaled. He could see the bus floor, several people’s shoes, his own dirty shoe laces, a gum wrapper, and the screws in the bottom of the pole he was gripping.
He exhaled. Slowly. Shakily. He could feel the slight ache of his puffy eyes, the cool metal pole beneath his hand, how his other hand was strangely warm in his pocket.
Eddie paused. And the warmth squeezed back. Solid, interlocked between his fingers.
Love you, Eddie. Love you no matter what. Venom murmured softly, running their manifested thumb over his knuckles in his hoodie pocket.
It almost made Eddie’s tears start afresh.
He could feel Venom in his hand, holding him. It made him feel better, safe, guarded. And with Venom’s warm mass in his palm, it smoothed down the ragged edge of his panic.
Gradually, as the bus drove on and Eddie clung to the bar to keep his balance, his breathing evened out. Venom kept up their soft assurances, and it reminded Eddie that they had each other. Regardless of the shit that they’d been through and how much of the past he wished he could change, and no matter whatever other curveballs came their way, they always had each other.
Eddie inhaled slowly as he stroked Venom’s hand in his pocket. In the here and now, he was on a bus. And they were ok.