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He can't breathe.
His chest keeps hitching, but he can't breathe, and his hands fist in his hair, tugging a little too hard. He's stuffed himself beside the couch, he dimly realizes, and he's all balled up, and he's sure that's not helping, but he can't uncurl himself to save his life, his legs don't want to move that way, and in the meantime, he still can't breathe-
"Love?"
And Logan's there, squatting beside him, blue eyes full of concern, and Virgil bursts into tears.
"Can you breathe for me?" Logan asks, and Virgil nods, a touch too frantic, because he doesn't want to disappoint his boyfriend, but at the same time, he's terrified he can't breathe, and-
"You're getting lost in your own head again," Logan murmurs, reminding him, his hand a steady grounding presence on Virgil's shoulder as his other hand works to uncurl Virgil's frozen legs to help him breathe better. Sometimes the touch is too much, and they have to re-evaluate, but this time, the touch is just right, and he sags in relief, his legs straightening out and giving his rib cage some much needed breathing room.
Now he remembers. He was drawing at the table. Just another sketch of Logan cooking, it wasn't anything fancy, but he started to- he frowns. Oh. It's one of those, one of the shitty ones that attacks out of nowhere and spirals him up and down like a slinky.
"Breathe," Logan reminds him, exaggerating his own breath for Virgil to follow, and he does, feeling the last remnants of the panic attack drain away. Logan coaxes him up on trembling legs, but only so he can settle on the couch instead of the floor, curling up in Logan's arms and resting his ear against Logan's chest to hear the reassuring thud of his heartbeat.
"Better?" Logan asks, combing his fingers through the fluff of Virgil's hair and Virgil nods in relief.
"Thank you," he says softly. Logan presses a kiss to the crown of his head. Virgil never feels safer than in his love's arms, and now is no exception. He only pushes away a little to remove his hoodie and toss it to one side, then curls back up against Logan, a shaky, happy sigh escaping at the feel of his boyfriend's warmth surrounding him instead of fabric. Not that he doesn't love his hoodie, but he loves snuggling Logan a little more.
"Love you," he murmurs, sleep already beginning to claim him. He was tired before his panic attack. Now, he is exhausted. Logan continues to massage his scalp, running his fingers through Virgil's hair in that soft way he's come to love.
"Love you, too," Logan whispers back. "Go to sleep, love."
And Virgil does.