Red Notice (2021 Thurber) Oneshots

Fake or Not, We're Here

Nolan Booth never had a family, not a true one.

When he has a panic attack and flashback of his father, he finds one that he never expected.

•

It started as a normal day, or at least as normal as it can get for art thief, Nolan Booth. He had been working with Sarah Black, The Bishop, and John Hartley for a month now, planning out their heist at the Louvre.

Nolan had to admit: he had begun to enjoy working with them.

They had good ideas, and bickering with them was always fun and a plus, especially with Hartley.

It seemed to be going well, honestly.

But lately, Nolan's life had become more quiet. Hartley and Sarah were going on more dates in the evenings, leaving Booth alone.

It was sickening for him. The ticking clock, his pounding heart. He'd never admit it, but slowly, his anxiety took over, dragging out the watch problem. The silent pressure pounding in his ears, chipping away at him, trying to break him. He was fine when Sarah and Hartley were home.

Then it happened. Something he hadn't experienced since he was fifteen. He had a flashback. It was basically an panic attack, but his flashbacks kicked in too.

He'd never had a diagnosis, but he assumed it was PTSD.

It was early morning when it started. Hartley and Sarah were still asleep.

Booth was an insomniac. He couldn't sleep a lot, but when he did, it was never for long. His mind plagued by his father.

He was on the balcony of their apartment, staring at the rising sun. Somehow, he was dozing off.

Dreams filled his head quickly of the pressure that continued to build in his chest.

"Booth," Hartley said gruffly, shaking him awake.

Nolan's eyes shot open, hardening. "John." He could see he was covered in sweat, his breathing rapid. He stood from his spot. "I'm going to go change."

"Sarah's making breakfast, Booth, so don't be long."

Nolan nodded, walking down to his room. He pulled out a fresh set of clothes and changed. He could steel feel the weight in his chest, as well as the flash of feelings from those years ago.

He sighed, making his way back to breakfast.

-

He didn't feel his anxiety ramp up any further until Hartley and Sarah came home that night.

He was sitting at the counter in the kitchen, holding a cup of vodka. He felt the need for it. He typically disliked it, but given the fact that it let the weight lessen on his chest, he'd take it.

Silence filled the room again as Hartley and Sarah made their way over to him.

He was so quiet that he guessed they didn't notice him. They ignored him completely, talking about some stupid flower shit.

Hartley even pointed past him about a star.

That's what triggered it, Nolan figured.

Practically being invisible, people acting like you weren't seen.

He got up too quickly, his hand wrapped around his glass. He must have been a little tipsy from his flush of panic and alcohol because he immediately tripped, falling to the ground. 

The glass shattered on impact, cutting into his arm, but he didn't feel it.

Blackness seemed to cloud his vision.