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Another day, another tantrum. Only, this day felt.. abnormal. Johnny hadn’t left his trailer at all. Of course, this was a cause for commotion! Naturally, you went to check. When he didn’t open his door immediately after you knocked 4 times, (a code you both agreed on to initiate it was you and not some other hooligan) you began to worry. You went back onto the set, grabbing a spare set of keys and opening the door to Johnnys trailer. He sat on the couch, a little alarmed at the sudden barge in. He quickly moved his sunglasses down, scoffing at you.
“I was BUSY, thank you very much.” He spat, crossing his arms. You exhaled heavily when you saw him. He looked.. different. Not different physically, like he got a haircut.. no. His face was all red, and looked.. wet. Glistening. Tears? You raised an eyebrow, slowly moving forward and setting down the spare key set.
“Sorry.. when you didn’t answer— I got worried. You know.. fatherly instincts I guess.. I have a few pets.” You stood a short distance away, looking at him. His chest was going up and down, fast. You had a feeling you knew what was happening.
“I don’t know what’s happening.” He croaked out, hands on his face. “It feels like someone’s sitting on my chest- is this a heart attack? Fuck, am I dying? I can’t die now, I haven’t fucked the sexiest pornstar yet-“ his mumbling just seems to spiral him more. You put your hands on his moving shoulders, and look at him.
“Here, I can help you, just take a breat-“
“I am breathing, it’s not working, it’s getting worse-“
You remind yourself to be calm. He probably hasn’t gone through this type of thing before. You think of ways you could calm him down, an idea coking to mind. The 333 method, you were fond of it.
“I know a way to help you calm down, okay? But you have to help me out, here..” you say, in a calm tone. He nods chest still heaving. His hands are shaking, he’s sweaty, his brows are knit together. He’s struggling. you understand.
“I.. I think you’re having a panic attack,” you state. “I can help you. I know what it’s like to have them. Can you name three objects around you?”
He looks at you as if you’ve said the dumbest thing ever, his chest still heaving. He looks around, shaking his head.
“Um.. a fuckin- door? I don’t understand!!” He seems to get worse, putting a hand on his chest. You put your hand on his hand, looking at him.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it out loud. Count 3 objects in your head, and state what they are to yourself.” By the way he’s looking around the room, you can tell he’s doing it, despite it sounding dumb. “Alright.. good. Now, can you hear 3 sounds?”
His chest seems to slowly stop moving, his rapid breaths slowing to a normal pace.
“And lastly.. 3 moving body parts..” you hold his sweaty, shaky hand. His body is finally back to normal, and he lets out a shaky, scared breath.
“What the hell was that..” he asks, a little dazed. You smile at him sympathetically. “A panic attack, you can get them from stress, tough physical activities.. coffee drinking, stuff like that.” You rub a hand on his back. He leans his arms on his knees, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“That.. was that normal? Does everyone get those?”
“Lots of people get those. I’m not surprised you did, either. You must be under a lot of stress, doing all these stunts, fighting people-“
He shakes his head. He doesn’t want that to happen again, he wants to be perfect. This isn’t a sign of being perfect. In his mind, this is a sign of failure. “Fuck..”
You wrap your arms around him in a tight, loving embrace. For once, he doesn’t act disgusted that you touched him. He hugs you back, putting his head on your shoulder. He’d yell at you later for it. Now, he needed it.