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Summary
It didn’t even hurt. There was no pain, no blood, but Matt’s mind refused to let go of the past, and he closed his eyes tight, hands on his chest as images flew in. Not images—memories.
Matt opened his eyes to Chris on his knees in front of him, a firm grip on his wrist. Keeping him grounded.
Or, Matt hasn't had a panic attack in months. One elbow to the chest breaks that streak.
