Chapter Text
If there was one thing everyone knew about Ozzy, it was that he hated change.
Most of them made fun of him for it. But that was because they were stupid. Change was more deadly than any laser.
He had a system, a routine, perfectly crafted to avoid any danger. If everything stayed the same, then he knew everything was safe. Every step, every action calculated to ensure he wouldn’t have to face the horrors of the unknown.
Unfortunately, as previously stated, everyone else was stupid. So there were always these little irregularities in his perfect system. Felix and Ted join a science class one day, when they’re supposed to be in gym class. Or one of Carla’s schemes leaves her causing a ruckus in the dumb class instead of the smart one.
Usually, it was stressful, but he could manage. It was manageable. A few things out of place that disrupted but didn’t prevent his routine from continuing to completion.
Things were no longer manageable.
It had all started the day prior. That was when everything began to go wrong. His friends were gone. A huge part of his routine smashed into smithereens. His favourite toy, his safe toy, was out of batteries. And worst of all, there was a gaggle of new kids around, ruining everything. He didn’t know them. He didn’t know their schedules. He didn’t know which ones were dangerous, which meant they all were dangerous.
He hated them. Even as he tried to put them into categories. Cindy was stuck up like Felix and dangerous like Penny. Monty was smart like Dr. Danner and a rulebreaker like Carla. Jerome was a crybaby like Ted. Buggs and Nugget were… also there. Maybe Nugget was kinda like Margaret. It didn’t help. They disrupted everything. It was horrible.
Then they did something. Madison was back. Ron too. And for a moment he thought things might go back to normal. Until it was announced that whatever they did, got the whole school shut down.
Their new school was ruinous. A fancy place. An Academy. With only some of the usual faces and too many new ones. A whole new set of teachers. A classroom full of unfamiliar faces. The building was grey. The whispers set his teeth on edge. The warnings that he usually found himself a part of, now too quiet for him to understand. Nothing here was safe. Not a single thing. Not the floors, not the teachers, not the students.
Everything was cleaner here. He should be happy about that. Happy about the fancy soaps in the dispensers. Happy there wasn’t that tiny layer of grime that came from a bunch of icky kindergartners running about. It was just another thing that was wrong. The texture of the too clean desks grated against his eardrums.
They didn’t have toys. The toilets were in a different place. The academy had a nurse’s office. Something useful that inherently implied danger. Ron and Madison stuck close to him, but he couldn’t find much comfort in them when the teachers stared him down with those terrifying eyes and Ozzy didn’t know what to do to make it right.
He lasted until lunch. Lunch that was in a different hall. Lunch with a different lady. Lunch with posh metal seats that were too cold and made the worst possible sound when they moved. Lunch with different, harsher, lighting than he was used to. Lunch with all new smells from the too fancy food that Not-Felix was eating nearby.
It was too much. It was too much. Ozzy couldn’t breathe.
He took his inhaler and waited. Couldn’t breathe was an odd way to describe what he was going through. Though his chest ached with every deep breath, he could still breathe. It was just that every aching breath wasn’t enough. There was no way to breathe harder or more to satisfy the desperate need for oxygen that clawed at his chest.
He tried to tell Madison and Ron something. It took him too many tries. That was bad. He knew that was bad. He knew that was an attack.
No one here was going to take him to the hospital.
He needed to steady his breathing. Ten in. Pause for five. Ten out. Every ten breathes one puff of his inhaler. He knew this. He’d done it a thousand times in the ER waiting room. He knew what the doctors would do. He thought he did, anyway. He vaguely recalled that he was told not to do this at home. But this wasn’t home. This was the opposite of home, and he was going to die. So he tried to count.
One. Two. Three. Three. Four. Five. Uh. Four. Five. He couldn’t. He couldn't.
Ozzy wasn’t stupid, despite the class he was in. He knew how to count. He wasn’t stupid, but he couldn’t breathe and- Madison. “Can you- Can you count- for me? I can’t- I can’t think.”
There was something coating his fingers. Static. Pins and needles without the needles.
“Of course. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.” She steadied him. In and out. Ten. Five. Ten. He used his fingers to keep count of each breath, so he knew when to take his inhaler. He could feel her beside him. Just knowing he wasn’t alone made things a little better.
The static coated his arm and made the side of his face feel heavy. He rubbed at it half-heartedly, but it didn’t help much.
Hyperventilating.
He was somehow still hyperventilating. Despite the counting.
It had been ten. He took another puff of his inhaler.
He was so scared.
But Madison was still counting, so Ozzy was still breathing. Ron had gone off to… do whatever Ron was doing. Ozzy couldn’t even count, let alone make a good thought. Madison was still counting, Ozzy was still breathing.
Ron inevitably returned, apparently he’d gotten a teacher to call his mom. That was good. His mom always protected him from the worst of the dangerous, through her position of power in the PTA. She kept his routine perfectly intact.
When she came to pick him up, Madison came with. She held his hand and counted all the way to the hospital, until he started breathing normally again.
Once he was able to think clearly again, he realised that maybe things could still be manageable. With some help.