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Grian couldn’t feel his fingers.
He couldn’t feel most anything, actually. He was curled up in the corner of his half-finished house, arms wrapped around his legs as he pulled them tightly to his chest.
Grian couldn’t breathe.
His breaths were shallow and rapid, barely taking in enough oxygen to keep himself conscious. A sob tore through his chest, interrupting his breathing further.
His face was a numb mess of tears, snot, and sweat, buried into the fabric of his pants. His body trembled as the panic gripped his chest, squeezing his heart tight.
He jumped at the sound of rockets firing outside, of someone landing roughly on the ground outside his door. He pulled his legs tighter to his chest, as if they would shield him from whoever was on the other side.
He hoped they would leave, that they would go looking for him elsewhere when he didn’t respond to the firm knocks on the wood. Give him time to recover before he faced his friends.
He should have known he was never that lucky.
The door swung open gently, the sound of boots on the wood floors following quickly. Grian held his breath and tried to stop his quiet sobs as the footsteps trailed to the living room, the bedroom, his storage room…
The kitchen.
He heard a small hum come from the figure standing before him, and he shrunk down as much as he could, though he didn’t have much room to move at this point.
“Hey, Grian,” Impulse greeted, keeping his tone low and soothing as he squatted down in front of Grian. “Found you.” Grian let out a whimper, digging his fingernails into his skin through his pants at the pathetic noise instinct pulled from his throat.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I just came to check on you since you didn’t come to see Mumbo earlier.”
Right. Mumbo. He was supposed to go see Mumbo, and he forgot.
He let Mumbo down.
He felt like he was letting everyone down.
His breathing picked up and tears fell once more as he gripped his legs tighter, digging his face so hard into his knees he was sure he would have two red marks on his forehead. Dread swirled in his gut, and his body began quivering more than before.
“I can hear you worrying,” Impulse chided, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. “He’s not upset, nobody is. I promise.”
A beat of silence passed. Two.
“Can you look at me?”
“I-I’m fine,” Grian lied weakly between breaths, knowing what Impulse was getting at. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, like his body and mind were separate entities. Impulse let out a small laugh, not an unkind one, and settled himself more comfortably on the floor.
“Indulge me, at least?”
Grian finally pulled his face up, barely registering the ache in his neck from sitting in such an awkward position for so long. He rested his chin on his knees, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold his own head up on its own. He didn’t even bother to bring his sleeve to his face to hide the state he was in. Impulse, the kind man that he was, managed to almost hide the concern on his face as Grian continued to hyperventilate, tears dripping down his chin.
“Can I touch you?”
Grian shook his head, the action worsening his rapidly developing headache.
“That’s alright, will you try to breathe with me?”
Grian watched as Impulse began to take big, exaggerated breaths. He tried to match him, but every other attempt was interrupted by a choked out sob.
“That’s it, deep breaths, you’re alright,” Impulse soothed, as patient as ever.
Eventually, with a lot of gentle coaxing, the sobs stopped coming and his breathing settled down, only interrupted by quiet hiccups. The tears still dripped down his chin and onto the darkening fabric of his pants, but it was an improvement. He matched Impulse more easily now, the adrenaline seeping out of his body as he forced himself to relax.
Impulse finally seemed satisfied with his steadier breaths, slowly ceasing the exaggerated movements. He moved closer to Grian, though he was careful to avoid touching him still.
“Can I sit next to you?” he asked, quietly. Like Grian might shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too loudly. The smaller man nodded, drawing his wings closer to his back as Impulse settled in beside him.
A few moments of silence later, Grian was finally beginning to feel better. Sure, he felt like he had been trampled by a horse, and his head was still foggy, his cheeks tingled uncomfortably from where the tears were beginning to dry, and his back was beginning to hurt from how he had been sitting, but… it was a start, at least.
Slowly, he dropped a hand down between him and Impulse, letting it rest hovering just above the floor. An invitation.
He let out a shaky breath as Impulse accepted it, gently placing Grian’s hand between both of his own. He pressed his thumbs against Grian’s palm firmly but gently, moving the pressure outwards before repeating the motion at a slightly different angle. Once he was satisfied with that, he turned his attention to Grian’s fingers, the soothing pressure moving from the base to the tip of each finger in turn.
At some point, Grian let his head fall against Impulse’s shoulder, his eyes falling shut out of contentment rather than panic. Even if he couldn’t see it, he knew Impulse was smiling as he settled in.
After Impulse was finished massaging his hand with the utmost care, he moved an arm to rest across Grian’s shoulders, nudging him a bit closer. Grian moved easily, pressing himself into Impulse’s side.
The anxiety had left his system fully, leaving him exhausted. He let his head rest against Impulse’s shoulder, sighing contentedly at the contact.
“Are you up to talking?” Impulse asked, nudging Grian’s head with his own.
“Sure,” Grian said quietly, his throat burning. He didn’t want to get up to get water, though, and he didn’t want Impulse to leave either.
“Is there anything else you need right now?”
“No, I’m okay for now,” Grian muttered. “Thank you… for everything. Checking on me and helping me calm down, that is.”
“Of course, what are friends for?” Grian finally smiled at that, squeezing Impulse’s hand softly, the demon beside him responding in kind.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Grian beginning to feel utterly exhausted as the last dregs of anxiety filtered out of his system.
“Do you know what triggered it?” Impulse asked, interrupting the silence as he traced his fingers against Grian’s knuckles.
“No idea,” he admitted. “One moment I was thinking about what to eat for lunch before I met up with Mumbo, and then…” he gestured vaguely with his free hand. Impulse hummed in acknowledgement, letting the silence hang for a few more moments.
“How about we sit here for a few more minutes, then I make you lunch and we can go see Mumbo? If you’re up for seeing him, that is.”
“That sounds nice,” Grian replied, leaning closer into Impulse’s hold and letting his eyes fall shut. “But I can cook.”
“As if. I’ve got this one.”
“You think you can come into my house, remind me how to breathe, and then cook for me? If you keep it up, I’ll end up owing you a favor,” he joked. Impulse laughed, squeezing Grian closer to his shoulder as the smaller man joined in.
“Cook together?” Impulse suggested as their giggles tapered off.
“Cook together,” Grian confirmed, nodding sagely.
They settled back in against each other for the moment, too relaxed in each other’s company to get up just yet. Impulse let his fingers dance against the back of Grian’s hand, drawing patterns only he knew the meaning of. It was… comfortable. Safe.
Grian had hoped to ride out the panic attack alone.
He was glad he didn’t have to.