Let Love In

2

'Take a deep breath.'

He hears Bob say, bringing him back to reality. A voice so familiar to him now, just like his own. 'Everything's okay, Frankie.'

And he really wants to believe that.

But his brain tries to convince him that the world is crumbling down to his feet, and that his lungs can't take it any longer, and he's suffocating to death.

'It's okay,' he hears his friend's voice again, replying to someone. 'Please, step back,' he yells. When Frank finally opens his eyes back again, he's confused, not knowing what happened. It always takes him some time to come to.

He feels confused, exhausted and upset. His body is tense, and he has trouble breathing. 'You're okay,' Bob repeats, wiping his face with a wet towel. 'You're here with me. It's all okay.' But Frank can hear worry in his tone, as if he's repeating it to himself to keep himself from crying. Frank wants to yell at him that he's not feeling well, that everyone saw what happened, and that he wants to go home, but words won't come out. Instead, he takes his hand, and leans his head on Bob's shoulder, breathing in and out to calm himself down. 'Just breathe with me.' Frank does, his breath pattern getting back to normal. 'I'm sorry for making you come with me.'

'No – it's okay,' Frank insists. 'I needed it.' He's not about to admit that he's not ready yet.

He looks around, and it seems most people didn't even notice, or probably just ignored him, going back to his life, and Frank's not sure if that makes him feel better. He just wants to get out of there.

But he's not fully recovered yet, so he just stays there a little longer, Bob sitting next to him, and Lois not leaving his side. 'You need me to take you to the hospital?' his friend asks.

Frank shakes his head. 'No – it was just a panic attack.'

'You haven't had one of those in a while.'

'Actually, I had one this morning.'

'Should I be worried? How are you feeling –' Bob doesn't finish his question, but points at his chest.

'Good. Everything under control, I think.'

Bob keeps asking how he's feeling, and telling him he needs to take a few days off. And Frank can't help laughing. He finds it adorable how his mom and Bob had formed a team to take care of him. 'Bob –you don't have to take care of me anymore. I'm sorry to tell you, but we're not together anymore. I love you, you're my best friend, but you can't tell me what to do.'

'Maybe not me, but Linda can.'

After helping him back up, Bob gets him a bottle of water, and they go outside to get some air. 'We're just worried about you, and we want you to be okay. You need to see a doctor.'

'Okay. I'll make an appointment.' Without even thinking, Frank gets his cigarette pack, and offers one to Bob.

'I'd remind you those are bad for you, but I think you've already given up on a lot of things.'

Frank just laughs. He knows Bob's right. But he can't stop laughing, not when his anxiety levels are worse than usual. He'd always had anxiety, but after everything that happened, it got worse, and had constant panic attacks, to the point of not getting out of the house for months. Doctors told him that many people went through the same situation, and recommended therapy. Frank hates the idea, but he hates the nightmares even more, as well as being afraid all the freaking time.

'Thank you for helping me,' the short man says, taking a hit from his cigarette, trying to ignore his anxiety. But it was impossible. Frank is tired of depending on his mom and Bob. He misses his independence. Not having to wake up with panic attacks. Though he also knows he's doing better now.