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Teacake was starting to think he should’ve cancelled.
It was just that they’d planned this meeting two weeks ago, to make sure he, Ashani, and Naomi would all be able to get the time off work, and Trini could ensure she was in town. They were meeting up once a month, going out and getting dinner together and just experiencing having an unproblematic social life; even if they were all so wildly different they never would’ve been kinda-sorta friends had they not been trauma bonded.
And he really didn’t want to cancel. He’d been the one who’d insisted. He’d wore them all down to get together again even when they complained and denied. He’d promised it’d be fun.
He didn’t even know what was wrong with him. He hadn’t had a nightmare, hadn’t even dreamt. He’d eaten breakfast, taken his meds, had even showered the night before when he got home from work. He and Naomi had cleaned the apartment that week so things were neat and tidy instead of their usual mess.
Sarah wasn’t in one of her moods, and she’d been picked up by Mike’s mom– a surprisingly sweet, if almost aggressively religious woman– to spend the weekend with that side of the family. Which meant there wasn’t a little monster terrorizing him in the apartment.
Nothing was wrong. In fact, he should’ve been having a surprisingly good week. Except when he woke up that afternoon the only reason he could get out of bed was because he was in Naomi’s way and she was shoving at him to get up and get ready.
He’d forced breakfast down, but he’d eaten. It felt like everything was a momentous task of energy that he just didn’t have. Like he was suddenly crashing for no apparent reason. And going out in public was just something he should not have done.
His skin was crawling.
Every time someone walked a little too close to Teacake, or anybody touched him, he couldn’t breathe. He was in a constant state of anxiety from the moment they stepped out their front door.
He’d always been good at putting on a face. At lying. He smiled, and he laughed, and he ordered himself a cheeseburger that he couldn’t bring himself to eat with his stomach so tied in knots. He told stories and filled the silence that the four antisocial people sat around a table with him didn’t bother with.
And then his chair got bumped, and a hand landed on his shoulder. A woman– a stranger, someone he didn’t know– touching him– apologized, voice light and kind, after which she happily pulled away and disappeared back into the crowd.
Left behind was a burning feeling on his skin. He felt his throat close up; irrational, terrified thoughts running through his head. He didn’t get a chance to look at her– what if she was infected? What if she was carrying the fungus, what if it got out?
Teacake managed to stick it out at the table, pretending to hear the story Ashani was telling, before he’d worked himself up into such a panic he couldn’t stand being inside anymore. He jerked himself to his feet, forced a smile over his lips, and left with a simple, “Bathroom. Be right back.”
He didn’t go to the bathroom– it was practically a festering ground for everything ever and he couldn’t handle that right now. It didn’t matter how much he told himself they’d literally nuked Atchison, that nothing could’ve spread. It didn’t matter how much he told himself that if she were infected those at the table with him would’ve seen, they would’ve freaked out just as much as him.
He was gulping in frantic breaths of air, forcing his way through the Saturday night crowd until he was outside in the fresh air, hot and humid like it had been that day his life had shifted to something forever horribly tainted and changed.
He stumbled around to the side of the building where there wasn’t anybody, clutching his chest and trying to force air into his lungs. He slipped down to the ground, strained his neck to try and get a view of his shoulder where he’d been grabbed.
There was nothing there. There was nothing there and he was freaking out. Freaking out over a perfectly normal, kind stranger touching him. He sobbed, still unable to calm his racing thoughts despite the obvious evidence, head hitting the brick behind him.
He hated this. He hated it so much. He was so pathetic; he should’ve been over it by now. Poor little Teacake, so fragile, so sensitive. So easily upset.
His chest hurt, it screamed for air that he couldn’t give it. Quick breaths came in and out, as if he’d calm himself down by making it worse. There was some illogical thought that convinced him that if he just kept breathing this fast it’d work itself out, he’d end up okay. If he tried to slow his breathing he’d die.
There wasn’t enough oxygen. It was too humid, sticking to his skin and his throat. He was a fish on land, a fox in the water. Fuck, he felt like he was dying.
“Kid?”
No.
“Kid, you out here?”
No. He didn’t want to burden them. They didn’t need to see this. A sob broke from his throat, against his will and painful, scraping his flesh raw on its way out. He thunked his head back on the brick again.
“Travis?”
Robert came around the corner. Teacake could see him out of the corner of his eye, from where he was staring out at the dimly lit parking lot with tears blurring his vision, singeing his retinas.
“Shit, kid.” Robert sighed, bootsteps heavy on the concrete sidewalk. He came to sit down beside Teacake, who keened, shifting away from him. He couldn’t– he couldn’t be touched, he couldn’t, “No touching. Got it,” Robert reassured, scooting a little further away, “Bad day?”
He couldn’t respond, not around how quickly he was breathing. It didn’t matter if he could, he didn’t think he would’ve. He didn’t want anybody to know, he didn’t want to ruin this meetup for everyone. Over something so stupid.
“I get it. We all have ‘em.”
Teacake twitched his head to the side, looking at the man. Robert wasn’t looking back at him, but rather out into the night. It made things feel less suffocating, somehow. Not being stared at, that is.
“I ever tell you about when I got back from Kiwikurra?” He asked, rhetorically. Teacake couldn’t keep the furrow from between his brows; what was he doing? “Trini and I were forced into a week long quarantine, but she got sick. Really messed us both up. It was just a cold, but I had a little boy at home, and my wife of only three years at the time.”
Teacake watched his face, pinched into that permanent frown of his. Why was he telling this story?
“By the time they let us go she was better, but I was convinced we were both infected. Wouldn’t go home to my family, and Trini didn’t have anybody to go home to back then. So, we holed up in a hotel for another week.” Robert finally turned to look at him, expression still no different, “We get it, kid. Let us help. Running away isn’t the answer.”
Teacake averted his eyes, more tears burning at them. His chest felt a little lighter, like the elephant standing on him had taken one foot off. He swallowed thickly, nodding, “Dunno why m’ freaking out,” he wheezed, running his hand through his hair. It was knotted, damp with sweat and humidity. His hands caught on the rough bleach fried strands, tugging painfully at his scalp.
The older man didn’t fill the silence. Teacake took the time to force himself to breathe, enough that he could explain. Robert deserved that much, skipping out on what was supposed to be a fun night to deal with the grown man who was sobbing like a little kid over being touched.
“Yest–Yesterday was fine, Sarah’s been great, Naomi’s been great.” he breathed, in through his nose and out through his mouth, “House is clean, I’ve eaten, showered– everything should be fine,” another sob, ragged and rough and ruining all his progress at finally starting to calm down, “I dunno why I’m freakin’ out, man.”
Robert shrugged, “Sometimes shit just happens,” he said, “A backslide for no reason. God knows how many times it’s happened to me. Maybe it’s because everything’s working out, your body feels safe enough to freak out.”
“It’s been three months!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms out, exasperated. “Three months, I shouldn’t be–” he voice cracked, throat constricting painfully. He keened, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face behind them, fingers clumsily grasping at his hair, “I should be fine.”
“Is Naomi?”
“What?”
“Is Naomi doing fine like you say you should be? She called me, y’know. Few days ago, you were at work without her for once. Told me someone was in the apartment with her, and she was terrified, kid. Had me drive all the way over to look around for her.”
Why didn’t she tell him? He would’ve come home for that. He would’ve reassured her over the phone if their boss wouldn’t let him. There’s no way she would’ve kept that to herself, did she not trust him?
“There wasn’t anybody there, of course. She’d heard the tree outside, scraping on the wall.”
What had he done to make her not trust him? Did she think he would’ve made fun of her? Wouldn’t have helped?
“She didn’t want to bother you either, kid. God, you two are fucking peas in a pod, I swear,” he grumbled, like it was more to himself than to Teacake, “Neither of you are just gonna be perfectly peachy after what happened. And that’s fine.”
Teacake and Robert sat in silence, after that. The younger mulling over what he’d been told.
Shit, he was an idiot.
He couldn’t tell you how long they sat there, Teacake forcing air into his lungs at an increasingly slowed pace until he didn’t feel like reality was collapsing in on him, compressing him into a ball of panic and fear.
He wanted to slump to the side, feel the warmth of a human being, but the idea of actually doing so made him start to spiral all over again. He hated having conflicting wants and needs– desperately wanting to be touched and held and so, so scared of it actually happening.
“I’m good now,” he croaked, long after he’d calmed down and only once he thought he could make it back inside.
Robert hummed, sounding like he was being roused from sleep, “Yeah?” he said, eyeing him, “You ready to go home?”
He frowned, “What?” he cleared his throat, forcing the phlegm and spit down, “No, the night's not over yet. I don’t wanna ruin it for everybody or nothin’, I can go back in.”
He got a disapproving look in response, one he was unfortunately growing increasingly familiar with, “Tough shit, it’s time to head home. If you really want to we can all go back to yours and play that board game you like so much. What’s it called again?”
He scowled, glaring down at the ground. He didn’t want to end the night over his shitty oversensitive emotions. It was fine. The rest of them seemed like they were having a good time. Who actually wanted to go back to his and Naomi’s cramped little apartment and play Clue? All because he couldn’t handle one night out?
“Travis, this isn’t our scene,” Robert sighed, pushing himself to stand with a grunt. He gestured toward the corner that lead around the front of the building, “A restaurant on a Saturday night? We’re here to get together, not for the food or the countless touchy strangers. Hell, I guarantee we’d all rather go back to someone's house. I know I would.”
Teacake stared up at him, then looked to the ground. Right. So he’d gotten them all together to do something they didn’t want to do. He cleared his throat again, and got to his feet, “Fine. If everyone wants to go back, I guess,” he shuffled, running his hand through his hair again. There were less knots now, from how much he’d been tugging at it.
Robert led the way back to the cars, and then made him wait outside while he went in and gathered the group. Thirty minutes later they were back at Naomi and his apartment, playing Clue at the dining table.
He could admit that, even if he still felt rough around the edges, pulled taught with exhaustion and anxiety, it was a much better night than he’d been having before. Everyone seemed genuine when they laughed, fighting over pieces and cards and differences in evidence.
When he was looking for it, he could see the difference. The forced enthusiasm they’d all had in the restaurant, having to repeat themselves at increasing volumes thanks to the noise in the cramped dining area. They had been having about as bad a time as he had, and were far more content, crowded into their dining room with a board game.
When everyone packed up to head to their respective homes half past twelve, he and Naomi curled up on the couch. She didn’t say anything about the night, and he didn’t either. Instead, they put on Firefly and watched TV until the sun began to rise, when they crawled into bed piled on top of one another.
Her wrapped up in his arms, hand in hand, skin touching skin, he felt like maybe he would be alright. Maybe they’d both be alright, even when things felt like they were falling apart.