BNHA Oneshots

After

TW: Panic Attack, implied death

My chest aches as my heart struggles against my rib-cage and my lungs burn with the effort of drawing in another breath. Just one more, the only thing I need to focus on is the next breath. And the next. And the one after, but that's a problem for future me. Panic washes over me as my mind wanders again, crashing against my tired body and sending my mind spinning. Your voice cuts through it all, a lighthouse calling me home in the storm of emotion.

Deku? Baby what's wrong?

My breath hitches, mind whirling as I struggle to focus on you. You know what's wrong, you always do, yet I force myself to answer. You nod, flashing your half faced smile at me before sitting down.

Five things you can see?

The clouds. Blurred light from the street. My hands, shaking still. Precarious stacks of notebooks. The empty space across the table, a void that cannot be filled with just your memory.

Four you can hear?

Your voice, forcing back the silence that floods the room. My breaths, short and fast. Cars from down below. My racing heart, refusing to be stilled.

Three you can smell?

Caramel, your scent, imprinted on the blanket I wrapped myself in. The chilled air from outside. My tea, nearly cold as it sits mockingly on the table in front of me.

Two you can feel?

My itchy wool sweater, the tag refusing to be ignored as it rubs against my skin in the most irritating manner. The splinters that bite into my skin from scratching at the table.

And one thing you can taste?

Salt, streaming down my face like the rain against the windows. Usually, you'd wipe them away, pulling my head against your chest to hear your heartbeat and ground me with gentle words of praise for working through this. No such thing happens tonight, my skin painfully cold in the absence of your touch.

Breathe with me, you've got this. In...

I draw in a rattling breath, holding it as you count up to three.

Out...

The exhale comes automatically, painfully slow as I wait for the next intake of breath.

In. One, two, three, four, five...

An odd sense of calm washes over me, eyelids heavy as I curl myself into a ball on the floor. I know I'll wake up alone again, your voice nothing but a fading memory, dissipating like mist as the sunrise peeks over the horizon, but for now, it is enough. Tomorrow night will be much of the same, a cycle repeating itself for as long as it needs to before I am strong enough to hold myself together again. Until I can breathe on my own, lungs only feeling a dull ache for your breath. Skin no longer burning in longing for your touch. When my first thought in the morning will no longer be you, but myself.