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No, don’t—
You don’t need to, find something else—
But I want it—
His thoughts are too much.
For the first time in months, Toya is lying in bed, hands desperately tugging at each other trying to fight himself off.
One hand raises to his hair; half-consciously he wraps a strand around his finger, wincing as he tugs and breathing a sigh of relief as he hears the satisfying sound of the follicles ripping out of his skin. He leans his arm over the bed to drop the strands on the floor before reaching up again.
It’s easy; routine. Find a strand, as much as he can take at once. Hiss because it hurts. Pull and ignore the stab of guilt, enjoy the sound. Pretend it didn’t happen and then do it again.
Even with how harshly he’s pulling, more than he has in weeks, his brain won’t be quiet.
He isn’t sure what he’s worrying about anymore, but it’s loud and incessant and nothing else works, if this is what he has to resort to to get the slightest relief then he’ll do it.
Choking back a cry, he pulls again, wincing as he takes too much at once; he won’t cry over this.
He isn’t even sure what this is. He can’t cry over his brain.
He can’t cry over something he doesn’t know.
He can’t cry over a problem he invented in his mind.
He can’t cry over something he’s doing to himself.
But oh, how he wants to.
He doesn’t want to be here, hyperventilating into his pillow, attacking his scalp and then flinching from the self-inflicted pain.
He doesn’t want to be worried about school, he doesn’t want to be uncomfortable around people he loves, he doesn’t want to be afraid of the place he should consider home.
Home, he thinks; he can’t decipher the word in his panicked state, but he knows it sure as hell isn’t here. Home is safe and comfortable, home isn’t physically constricting his throat because he knows he’ll be berated if someone hears him crying.
Home is…
“Akito…”
Toya doesn’t want to bother his partner, he hates it, but he can’t help it right now because anything is better than this. With shaky hands, he fumbles for his phone; the screen hurts his eyes. He can’t type, it’s all too blurry, so he just hits call and prays for an answer.
The phone rings. The tone plays, blaring painfully in his head, repeating over and over for what feels like an eternity.
No one picks up.
He presses his face into the pillow, heaving out a choked wail as he starts grabbing and clawing at his hair in a much less organised manner than before. He can’t do this alone, he can’t, and all worries about waking his partner leave with the remainder of his oxygen as he calls again. He needs his partner.
After two rings, he hears the voice he so desperately needs.
“Alright, guessing you finished the book, then. Hit me.”
“Akito— no, I-I didn’t, it’s not that— I—“
“Woah, hey, partner, what’s wrong?”
“C-Can’ breathe, help—“
“Okay, okay, I’m here, I’ve got you. Toya, are you having a panic attack?”
Talking is too much, so he allows a single sob past his lips and hopes it explains. But once he starts, he can’t stop, and the painful sounds rip up his throat; he tries to stifle them, tries to be quiet, he prays that no one other than his partner hears him.
“Toya, okay, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening to me? Can you tap your nails against the phone?”
He does as he’s told, his fingertips clattering against the screen with the force with which he’s trembling. “Okay, good. You need to breathe, I know it feels like you can’t but you have to. You know the pattern for it? Four seconds inhale, hold for two, six seconds exhale.”
Toya tries to. He really does, but it just catches in his throat and gets coughed back out. He whines into the phone.
“Toya, I know you’re scared, but you have to breathe. Just try again, okay, just copy me.”
Exaggerated breathing comes through the phone; Toya follows it to the best of his ability, breath seeming to hitch with every molecule of air he drags into his uncooperative lungs. But, for the most part, he manages, at least able to keep the air in until the sobs on the exhale.
“Yeah, good. Feel how nice that is? Let’s do it again, just keep following me.”
He does, achieving another half-success, Akito praising him between breath cycles. And he’s still pulling at his hair, strands falling to the floor along with each exhale, but the breathing is already so much, he can’t do it without the little bit of grounding pain pulling provides. He can feel the growing patch under his fingers but can’t find it in him to care.
It’s all still too much.
He pulls too much again and whimpers out a quiet ow.
“Hm? Is something hurting you, Toya? What’s wrong?”
“Nh— h-hair..,” he hiccups out.
Akito catches on immediately, of course he does, and the logical part of Toya regrets saying it because now he has another thing to think about.
“You need to keep your hands busy, partner. Where’s your necklace?”
He reaches out to the bedside again, but it isn’t there, it isn’t there and he doesn’t know where it is and it’s too dark and stifling to find it. One hand rushes to cover his mouth and absorb the wail he can feel rising in his throat. His other hand keeps grabbing at his hair because he can’t cope without that little bit of pain. The panic that had started to dissipate with the breathing exercises comes back in full force, barrelling into him and leaving him shaking.
“Toya, do you have it?”
“No— c-can’t—“
If he was any less panicked, he’d be able to hear the shake in Akito’s voice. But as much as he wants to, despite how guilty he feels, he doesn’t care if his partner is tired or worried, he’s selfish and he just wants Akito.
“Where is it? Can you get it?”
“No! N-No, just— please, Aki, c-can’t—“
He wants to keep speaking, wants to tell Akito what he needs, but the rest of his words catch in his throat and he forces his face back into his pillow.
“O-Okay, Toya, I’m gonna come over. Give me five, ten minutes okay? Sit tight, I’m coming.”
“P-Please,” he sobs, “Aki, I—”
“Shh, Toya, just focus on breathing. I’m gonna be there soon. Just breathe.”
Toya tries to. He can hear rustling over the phone— probably Akito putting his shoes or a jacket on— and although he knows it’s just proof that his partner is coming, the loss of his voice just makes him feel worse. His breathing repeatedly fades into sobs and he gives up trying to stop them, just dragging air into his lungs to keep himself alive.
“I’m out the door, Toya. I’ll be there soon.”
He’ll be here soon. Toya tries to focus on that fact.
His hands are still moving— he’s given up trying to stop that, too, there’s no way he’s getting through this without it. It’ll be a frustrating mess to clean up, he knows, but any of that is far displaced by the panic clouding his mind.
Time both drags and moves too quickly, a confusing contradiction Toya can’t wrap his head around. Akito’s voice forces him back to earth. “I’m not too far, can you unlock your balcony?”
Shuffling out of the bed, he cries a brief acknowledgement. He stands.
He falls.
“Partner, what was that? You okay?”
“No! I’m— I’m not o-okay, can’t—”
Breathe, walk, think, he can’t do anything.
“Alright, stop trying to talk, it’s only stressing you worse. All I need is for you to unlock that door, that’s all. Can you do that?”
Akito doesn’t want him to talk, Akito is sick of this, sick of him, he can’t do anything—
“You can do this, Toya, it’ll pass.”
He can… open a door. He can do that much.
So, he tries; his legs still won’t cooperate (lungs, legs, his whole body is working against him), so he shuffles across the floor, reaching up to turn the lock on the door. “D-Done.” With that, he slumps back against the glass, still trying to remember how to breathe.
“Okay, well done. I’m proud of you. I’ll be up there in two minutes.”
…Akito is proud of him for unlocking a door. How low has he stooped for that to be considered an achievement? How useless can he be?
It’s— he doesn’t even know the time, he’s that useless— the middle of the night, and his partner is coming to his house, running by the sounds of it, to comfort him, all because he couldn’t cope with thoughts that he should be more than used to by now. What is he even panicking about? He doesn’t know. There’s no sense in panicking over something he literally doesn’t know, and yet here he is.
He’s broken out of the spiral by a sudden brush of cold air. Toya looks up, and Akito looks back. He smiles softly. “Hey, partner.”
Toya sobs uselessly.
Akito quickly lowers himself to sit in front of Toya, opening his arms— an offer, one which Toya refuses guiltily. He shakes his head, but takes one of Akito’s hands, trying to remind himself that his partner is here now.
“You’re okay, Toya. You’re safe. Breathe with me, okay?”
Akito brings their joined hands to his chest and takes a deep, exaggerated breath, the same rhythm as earlier. Hiccuping, Toya copies him; it’s easier, with the physical presence of his partner, but it still takes all his effort to keep the air inside long enough for his body to accept it.
“Yeah, that’s perfect.”
So, they sit there, time passing in a haze as they breathe together. It takes a while, and a few times Akito has to come forward and gently shush him when his crying picks up, but eventually his breathing has steadied enough that it doesn’t ache anymore. Akito smiles, so sweet and loving. Toya questions why he’s even smiling like that.
He doesn’t deserve it, surely.
But, it’s there, and Toya finds himself unable to refuse it as much as his brain is telling him to. He leans forwards, accepting the offer from earlier; Akito readily brings his arms around Toya, holding him with so much care. The warmth and scent of syrup fills his mind. It’s almost enough to blot out the remaining panic.
Almost.
“Why’re you crying?”
He squeezes the fabric of Akito’s hoodie. “I d-don’t know.”
His partner kisses his temple, sickeningly sweet, arms wrapping around him a little more firmly. “That’s alright. C’mon, let's get you back into bed. It’s cold down here.”
Before he can respond, he’s being lifted into the air; instinctively, he latches onto his partner. He feels like a child, but… it’s almost nice. No one has ever cared for him like this before. Strong arms set him down on the mattress, dipping under their combined weight as Akito lays beside him.
“What happened, partner?”
Toya can’t find any reasonable answer, so he shrugs. He can’t look Akito in the eye. Somehow, his partner chuckles. “Yeah, thought as much.” Hesitantly, he brings a hand up to Toya’s face; Toya nods, leaning into the touch. “It’s okay if you can’t tell me right now, but… I am worried. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything like this.”
He’s worried.
“…I’m sorry.”
Akito almost looks like he’s in pain as soon as Toya says it, eyes holding so much sympathy. It’s almost too much to bear. “You don’t have to be sorry about this, partner. I’m glad you called me. I never mind helping you, you should know that by now.”
“B-But I… you… I can’t—“ The words bubble away into more tears.
“Shh, no more talking.” Gently, Akito pulls him down until Toya’s face is resting against his chest, both hands coming to run through his hair, carefully avoiding any sore spots. “You’re not gonna get anywhere tonight. Just sleep, okay? I’m right here if you need me.”
Toya doesn’t deserve this. He knows he doesn’t, not when he’s bringing his partner down with him like this.
But right now, surrounded by warmth, he thinks maybe it’s okay to indulge just a little longer.