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You can't cure an anxiety disorder, but with the right breathing techniques, it can be managed — Jungkook reminds himself of this when he's hit with that all too familiar feeling on stage. Anxiety, never a gentle beast, had hit him like a brick wall, leaving him desperate for breath as his heart pounded even harder than it normally would, even in the most demanding dance routine. He usually handled himself so well, able to control his breathing and by extension, his anxiety, almost as soon as it reared it's ugly head. He's been doing it so long, taken care of himself on his own so many times, that he could turn it off like a switch, save it for later when he was alone. This time, however, he wasn't so lucky. His anxiety managed to seep into his performance before he could get a hold on it, causing his dancing to lag behind the rest of the boys', and his singing to become shaky and all too breathy.
Jungkook thinks he's safe when he's standing on the sidelines, someone else now front and center as he waits for his next part. He'd meant to take this time to control his breath — deep and slow, in through his nose, out through his mouth — but his mind is immediately pulled from those thoughts when one of his hyungs pats his shoulder as he walks by, a silent message alerting him that he'd noticed his mistakes. Perhaps, Jungkook thinks, it was meant to be encouraging, but it proves to do the opposite. All Jungkook can thing about is how noticeable his desperate flailing and out of breath singing must of been. He freezes up immediately, able to see nothing but the confuses look on both the audience and his hyungs' faces as he fails to fall into place for his next part. He wants to moves, tries desperately to at least take a step in the right direction, but he's frozen there, unable to move. Someone he doesn't see pushes him gingerly towards the center stage, but even there, he isn't able to move. He just stands there, staring blankly out into the crowd as tears well up in his eyes. He wants to scream at himself for being so ridiculous, for not being able to move, for failing in front of all of these people, but when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out. Instead, his eyes well with tears and someone finally pulls him back, and after a few harsh, frantic whispers to some of the other members, they continue with out him. People keep asking him what's wrong, but he doesn't quite hear them, can't even register what those words mean. Everyone's frustrated, that's all he can see.
In the few short minutes it takes for a stagehand to lead him back stage, he replays the moment over and over in his head at least fifteen times. The disappointed looks on everyone's face, the feeling of being lost as people spoke but he couldn't understand, the burning feeling of tears that begged to be let loose, the terrible dancing and singing, the lack of control... he was going crazy, he decided, and at that thought, he finally broke down.
Jungkook was doubled over, head laying on the desk in front of him, face buried in his arms as he sobbed like a child. Silently, he pleaded with himself and with whatever god or gods might be above that he wake up, that this was just a terrible dream that he'd wake up from in a cold sweat. He pleaded, but he never woke up. The nightmare was real, proved to be true by the burning hammer of his heart in his chest. He's left alone with his thoughts for some time — hours, he thinks, before he hears the faint sound of the door opening.
"I don't want to talk about it," Jungkook whispered, never listing his head to check who exactly was at the door.
Whoever it was says nothing as they pace over to the desk, carefully pulling out a chair to sit next to Jungkook. He turns his head the other way. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to," said his guest, who's voice he could recognize as being Jimin's. Somehow, that was both better than what he was expecting, and worse. Better because it meant he wouldn't have to talk to management about his mistake just yet, and worse because he wasn't used to Jimin sounding so serious. This was so unlike both of them.
Well, not terribly unlike Jungkook. He's been like this for as long as he could remember, but he didn't usually become so disarmed by a panic attack. He usually handled himself so —
"Do you want me to leave?" Jungkook looked over at him, keeping his head down on his desk, silently considering his options. He'd very much like to be alone, but...
"I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to be alone," he replied in a whispered tone, turning his eyes away from Jimin. The other nods his understanding, though he doesn't understand why it wouldn't be a good idea for Jungkook to be alone. He doesn't pry. "How were the fans?"
Jimin seems to pause to consider how to put it delicately, but apparently finds no better way to answer than to be blunt. "They seemed pretty disappointed—" that earned a sigh from the younger of the two, "but we told them you were feeling sick and moved on with the show." He'd figured as much. It must have been hard, breaking the news to them. He owed so many people his apologies, he couldn't even begin to list them all right now. The thought weighed heavy on his shoulders, as if the guilt of messing up so terribly wasn't enough. At least they didn't have to lie to their fans — Jungkook was definitely feeling sick right now.
There's a long pause between them, nothing but the sound of breathing between them before Jungkook finally speaks up. "I'm usually so good at suppressing those feelings." Jimin breaks his silence with a hum, but nothing else. "I've never... broken down like that. Never been that weak..." Tears start to well in his eyes again, and Jimin takes that as his cue to run his fingers through Jungkook's hair comfortingly. "I can usually hold it in, you know? At least until I'm alone, when I can—"
"Suffer silently?" Jimin offers, which only earns a scoff from the young maknae. Not that it was untrue, but how could Jimin understand? How could anybody possibly understand? It wasn't like there was anything to talk about. His panic attack had been completely random, unrelated to anything going on in his life, which is what made things worse. He had everything he could possible want — an amazing career, adoring fans, amazing friends... he was so grateful for it all, too. He shouldn't be feeling this way.
Rather than object or get mad, he broke down crying again, finally letting fall the hot, frustrated tears he'd been holding in since Jimin arrived. The tears he'd told himself e'd never let anyone see. He felt broken, damaged beyond all repair, and now Jimin knew. Jimin, the one he always joked around with. Jimin, the one who knew him to be playful and funny. He's ruined his facade. He wasn't always bright and sunny, he wasn't always perfect...
Suddenly, there's a hand wiping away his tears, tsking him. "You look ridiculous when you cry." Jungkook shot him an annoyed look, but he continued anyway, "Everyone was so worried about you... you looked like you were about to have a heart attack."
"I felt like I was about to have a heart attack..." he muttered, turning his eyes away at the memory. His heart had felt like it was going to give out, had burnt in his chest as it raced and skipped beats. He was suffocating, too. It he wasn't so focused on how embarrassing the situation was, he probably would have feared for his life.
"You can talk to me, you know. No one should have to handle these things on their own," Jimin said, voice softening, "while I might not understand why you feel this way, I hate to see you looking so hurt. You mean a lot to me, to all of us." Jungkook merely nodded, spending the rest of the night letting Jimin take some of the emotional weight off of his shoulders. For what it was worth, he was a good listener, only interrupting to clarify or to offer advice.
Later on, when he sensed that familiar feeling of anxiety creeping onto him, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that you can't cure an anxiety disorder, but with the right support system, it can be managed.