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Marshall Seo was not afraid of illogical or unlikely things. He didn't lie awake at night with a pit of anxiety burning in his stomach like lava, melting all of his senses and logic and convincing himself the roof would collapse on his head. His lover, however, did exactly that.
Marshall had learned how to tell what sort of anxiety Benedikt was experiencing, and was still going through trial and error on which way works for certain fears. If Benedikt Montagov was sitting still in one place, staring hard at nothing rather than sketching, chewing on his lip or pressing his shaking hands together to mask the shivering, trying his best to look normal, he was having an internal battle. Knives of "What ifs" being thrown, bullets of "that's unreasonable" returned, bombs of "but it could always happen" destroying any self comfort he could muster.
In those times, Marshall wouldn't even address that he'd notice Benedikt's lack of peace of mind. He'd simply sprint over and tackle him, the jolt alone bringing him back to the moment. Then, he'd recount anything he'd recently heard like it was urgent, like it was so important. Benedikt would try to follow along, giving it all his attention until he realized by the end it wasn't all that important. Then, Marshall would stare at him lovingly as he chastised him for making him think something terrible happened. After all, he was thinking about his lover rather than the hurricane of unwanted thoughts and fear in his head.
He'd keep ranting about how weak his nerves were and how wicked Marshall was for shooting them. But Marshall didn't mind, because Benedikt wasn't truly angry, and all it took was an unexpected kiss on the cheek for Benedikt to freeze mid sentence and try to pretend his eyes didn't widen and his ears didn't turn the color of roses. He'd rub his neck and forget to keep ranting, leaving them in a silence that Benedikt kicked himself for not filling, but that only made Marshall fall deeper in love with him and his shyness.
"I love you." He'd whisper, silently thanking every higher power he could think of that he'd got the blessing of saying that out loud. He'd said it in every way he could before. "You're my best friend.", "Talk to me", "Tell me everything, even if it's 'dumb'". But he wanted to say it for real, let those three little words float out into the air like a balloon, rising and rising away along with all his pining. But he knew Benedikt wasn't ready to accept that part of himself yet. Part of him was afraid he never would, that he would live in fear of the ridicule he saw homosexuals receive forever, denying his want for love, taking his deep dark secret to the grave.
Marshall's death forced him to realize he couldn't do it anymore. He was fine with loving Marshall silently for years, stolen glances and heart palpitations every day and night. But the day he lost him, he was forced to admit it: he couldn't live without him. He couldn't hide this for the rest of time, watching his best friend leave him for life's duties rather than facing them together. He wanted to grow old in his company, finally get to touch his tanned skin the way he had in his dreams, the ones he'd wake up with passion writhing through his veins like a deadly virus from, tearing and tearing until he couldn't breathe, the knowledge that he could never belong to him crushing him until he couldn't see the point of living.
He squirmed a bit on the couch, looking down at his hands as they picked at each other, feeling Marshall's heat beside him as a constant reminder that he was not alone and never would be. "I love you too." He mumbled, his heart soaring despite his voices quiet insecurity.
When Benedikt Montagov was sitting with closed off body language- his knees to his chest or his legs tightly together, his arms crossed on top of them, he wasn't just overthinking. One look at his shrunken pupils and clattering teeth and skin pale like Moscow snow told Marshall that Benedikt was trying to physically protect himself from a memory. He knew his veins most likely felt like electricity wires, sparks running through them at the speed of light.
In those moments, Benedikt needed a protector. He was trying to protect himself, but couldn't fight off the horrible visions that plagued him to no end. Marshall would wordlessly pull him to his chest, using his arms as a barricade from the outside world, a reminder he was okay. The past couldn't catch him if he brought himself to the present. Benedikt's pride told him to push him away, to stop needing protection like a child and just shut up. But his heart pulled him closer to Marshall, his arms held him weakly by the waist, his face pressed against his neck and inhaled his scent like a cigarette, his pride be damned.
When Benedikt Montagov stirred in his sleep, groaning and whimpering, tensing and breathing heavily, Marshall knew to wake him up, ask if he was okay and cuddle him back to sleep. But he was lucky if that was all it took. He was lucky if the first thing he heard wasn't a raw scream of terror ringing through the night. His heart would stop and he would reach for his pistol without even thinking, the harsh movements of the bed telling him there was an attacker. But by the time his eyes would focus he'd see no one in front of him, only the man beside him shrieking into his hands, his shoulders shaking so hard there could've been an earthquake beneath his bones.
Marshall wouldn't even want to begin to think of what hell Benedikt's conscience must've been in. He wouldn't be able to listen to these agonizing sounds any longer.
"Ben!" He might shout, knowing Benedikt couldn't hear anything past his shrieking if he didn't yell too.
"No!"
Maybe he wouldn't be able to snap Benedikt out of it, as grabbing him or touching him would just amplify his fear.
"No!" He'd shriek again.
"Benedikt!" Marshall would tackle Benedikt as he began thrashing, fighting off imaginary attackers with sloppy form. He'd feel so hopeless, unable to wake Benedikt from his hell. He might have Benedikt on his stomach, leaning on his back and whispering into his ear. He'd have to push down every time Benedikt pushed up, forcing his words directly against Benedikt's ear so there was no way he wouldn't hear his lover beckoning him back to earth.
Benedikt's writhing would hopefully slow a bit, his shrieks seizing for a moment. He would open his eyes, his pupils mere specks amid the dark blue.
"Marshall?"
"It's me."
But the hurricane of his dreams most likely wasn't finished yet.
" Marshall ." He'd sob, his shoulders slumping forward onto the mattress beneath him. He'd be only half conscious then.
Marshall would probably flip Benedikt over and try to speak to him, but he wouldn't be all there, half of him still so lost in pain and fear and all things horrible.
His shirt was always soaked, his skin dripping with sweat and tears, his hair tangled and wet. His skin would be as hot as fire, his bones feeling like glass. He'd need to be washed of not only his grime, but of his sorrows.
Marshall would press their chests together and pick Benedikt up, who would definitely grab a hold of him immediately, holding on to the last bit of safety he possessed.
He would be still sobbing when Marshall set him down, turned on the tub, undressed him. He'd place him into the warm water, sniffling and aching and broken, utterly exhausted in every way. He'd let Marshall move him around like a marionette, staring off into nothingness as Marshall poured warm water on his skin, dripping relief from his hair down his back, followed by Marshall's hands rubbing it in.
It wouldn't be long before he was lying there still, quiet as a mouse, nothing to show for what had happened, save some knotted hair and swollen eyes.
He would not say anything as Marshall picked him from the water, taking him to bed, dressing him and combing his hair.
It was moments like that that truly twisted the knife in Marshall's heart. But he'd pretend it wasn't all that bad. He'd pretend everything was okay because Benedikt needed him to. He'd leave the lamp on, putting his arms around Benedikt and letting him fall asleep in his chest.
He hated that type of night. He hated watching Benedikt go into hysterics, knowing there was nothing he could do but try his best to coax him out of it. Knowing that the next day, Benedikt wouldn't say a word, both because his voice was gone and his heart was broken, too tired to utter simple statements.
Maybe if he understood what it felt like to be panicked the way Benedikt did, he could be of more service. But he didn't understand. How could you feel as though you're on a high speed chase while sitting down on your sofa reading Sappho's poetry? How could you struggle to breathe the air that danced around you endlessly?
Marshall held a glass of water in his hand, staring out the window at the blanket of snow covering Moscow. Frost painted the windows, droplets dripping down, racing each other for the windowsill. He was tapping a rhythm into the edge of the sink, buzzing with energy he wasn't sure what to do with.
The day reminded him of the cold he'd felt in Shanghai the night he was killed. His cheeks were still red from the low temperatures when he entered the hospital with Benedikt, not long before he was stained with a different kind of red.
He remembered how hard it had been to breathe in, the pain and blood loss it caused. His trembling hands and dizziness and ringing ears. The look on Benedikt's face was enough damage to his heart to kill him, bullet or not. He'd never been in such a tension-filled room. He felt like he could feel it as if it were truly here when he thought about it too much. Which is strange, because it wasn't there…
Was it?
He choked on his sip of water. Why couldn't he breathe? Why was his heart beating so loud in his ears? Why was his skin tingling like there were bugs beneath it?
"Oh, fuck ." He coughed, falling back into the kitchen island behind him. Every breath he took was a ragged gasp, his lunges piercing with pain as they contracted in unnatural ways.
He was dying. He was sure of it. His skin paled and prickled, a cold sweat coating his body like a promise of the icy death he'd face.
"Marshall?" Benedikt strolled into the room, wondering why the sounds of choking and gasping filled the apartment.
"Benedikt, I'm dying ." Marshall grabbed his sleeve as he approached like that could anchor his soul from ascending. Or descending.
"What are you talking about?"
"I think I'm having a heart attack," he wheezed, "I can't breathe, I don't have time." He cupped Benedikt's cheeks, holding onto the last thing he'd ever see. "Move to s-someplace warm, learn to surf or something- fuck-I don't know. Adopt a d-dozen kids, name them all 'Marshall'."
"Slow down, Mars-"
"Make sure to f-find a handsome, french m-millionaire and- and marry him and live like a king in his palace."
Benedikt nearly laughed. "Baby-"
"I love you."
Benedikt cupped Marshall's face back, feeling like he missed far too many chapters to keep up. "You're not going to die, Marshall."
"Oh, but I- am." Marshall sank to his knees, clenching his rapidly beating heart. "My heart- it's n-" Marshall gasped and choked his words out, horribly afraid of what's to come as he clutched his heart and pressed his forehead into Benedikt's thigh. "Nothing's working. I'm going to die- "
"Don't be dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic!" Marshall cried, tears filling up his flurried vision quickly.
Benedikt frowned. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He knelt down in front of him, picking up his wrist and checking his pulse. It felt like hummingbird wings beating beneath his skin. All at once, he understood.
"You feel like you can't breathe?"
Marshall nodded quickly, the sudden jerks of his trembling body parts whispering that it was his time to go.
"Did it come suddenly? After a memory?"
Marshall nodded again, falling off balance to the side as he felt it pang through him all again.
Benedikt caught his arm. "You're just having a panic attack."
Marshall wheezed hard and gripped Benedikt's shoulders. No, he was dying. For sure he was dying. "I- I don't think so."
"Yes, that's definitely what it is." Benedikt assured him, sitting fully down in front of him. "I know a panic attack when I see one."
"Why?" Marshall whimpered. He wasn't even sure what a panic attack was. It sounded self explanatory, but he didn't like the way Benedikt said it like it was a normal thing. He did not want this to be a day to day occurrence. "What does that mean? What should I do?"
Benedikt nearly smiled as he reached out and wiped a fallen tear from Marshall's cheek. It was always amusing seeing Marshall Seo feel emotions that average people feel all the time. "First of all, calm down, it's not the end of the world."
"Oh, yes. Just calm down. Like that isn't what I was trying to do!"
"Hey," Benedikt replied, taking Marshall's hands. They didn't feel strong like they usually did. They felt like sickly hands that couldn't lift a pound without breaking. But Benedikt would lift everything for him, would be his umbrella to shield him from the pouring rain, his bomb shelter, hiding him deep enough in the ground that he could only feel a shake, see mere dust falling rather than the nuclear disaster above ground. "That's not what I meant."
"I can't do this." Marshall gripped Benedikt's hands tight, his head pounding like a drumbeat. "End me, I can't do this."
"Stand up." Benedikt demanded, already pulling Marshall up into standing before he could comprehend it.
Marshall stumbled and Benedikt caught him in a hug, steady arms around his waist. "Breathe in through your nose as deep as you can. Slowly . Then out through your mouth."
"W-why?" Marshall choked out, already clutching Benedikt for dear life.
"Don't you trust me?"
"W-with my life."
"Then trust that this will help."
Nothing in Marshall's life had ever made him feel so helpless. His heart and lunges were seemingly failing beneath him and there was nothing he could do about it. But Benedikt was there, patting his back, pushing his evenly rising chest against Marshall's, reminding him how to breathe again.
And, to Marshalls surprise, he didn't die. He didn't choke out his last breaths on the linoleum floor. He breathed again. He held his lover close and filled his lungs over and over again until it was the easiest task in the world.
He sighed away the tension in his shoulders, closing his eyes to block out anything other than Benedikt's warmth.
"See? You lived."
"I did." Marshall agreed, pulling away ever so slightly until he could see a pretty face in front of him. "Thank you."
"Mhmm."
Marshall pressed himself and his lips against Benedikt, the brush of hands against his waist and a body against his own making his heart beat wildly again, only this time, it was not from pain or panic, but from passion. From love and appreciation so strong that it filled his soul to the brim with joy.
Marshall Seo understood now, the panic in a safe environment. He understood that trauma can follow you and intimidate you no matter where you are. But he also knew that all it took was one person understanding, being there for you, to make all the difference.