Less Than One | BxB

6.

Tw: Dealing with a panic attack

Tw: Homophobic language

All attention is on me now.

Thank God the teacher stopped looking at us. I could sense Dylan being uncomfortable.

Of course.

I should've asked for his consent first. Maybe he's not okay with all of this.

I raise my hand. "Dallas?" the teacher sighs. I know he expects a joke or a side comment, but all I want to do is check on Dylan.

He didn't seem okay. He was stuttering and not in the cute way he normally does when he's nervous. He was staggering when he stood up and gripping his desk very tightly, as if searching something to hold on.

"Can I go to the restroom?" I ask. He frowns, as if doubt. Come on, old man. I don't have time for this.

"When Dylan returns, you can go," he nods. I sigh and roll my eyes. A few students make boo sounds. 

"Give him that booty call, sir!"

I frown and look at the guy who shouted that with disgust. Where the fuck do people get that disrespect from?

"All right, everyone silent!" the teacher calls when more rumors spread. I clench my fists. What the actual fuck?

"Make exercise 29! In silence!" he yells after it. I frown at my book. I need to check on Dylan...

"Dallas, could you come here for a second?" His voice is softer now. I look up, confused, but nod and walk to his desk.

"Why do you need to go to the restroom? And what on God's earth is a booty call?" He seems frustrated, but I have no need to tell them.

I'm glad he gives me a chance, though. He must have noticed something was off with Dylan too. "I don't think Dylan's okay. I have no intention of doing something bad, sit. I just want to check on him," I assure him.

He nods and leans back in his chair, waving at the door. "You can go. Please report if something's wrong." I nod, straightening my back. "I will, sir."

I stalk to the door and am successful in not slamming the door back shut to let everyone know how mad I am.

Dylan is more important now.

I walk down the hallway, going straight to the restroom. Jason and a few of his friends are kicking the door to the janitor's closet, but I don't pay attention to it. They're probably bullying some poor kid.

I see the door to the restroom, but stop dead in my tracks. 

Hold on.

I look over my shoulder to see them almost destroying that door. I jog to them. "Who are we locking up?" I smirk.

They grin back. "Just some loser. Make sure he can't escape, yeah? We need to go meet another one at the back of school."

And they're gone. 

I slowly unlock the door, begging I didn't catch their expressions wrongly. If it's really some nerdy kid, I'll let him go too. 

On one side, I hope Dylan is in the restroom, just peacefully peeing. but on the other, I hope he's here and that I've finally found him.

And there he is.

Fuck, he's not okay. I close the door behind me and switch on some light, wanting to see him clearly.

He's lying down on the floor, shaking hard and breathing very faint. I kneel next to him. His eyes are dull and aren't connecting, completely blurred by tears.

"P-please," he whimpers and shields himself from me. I sit down and understand what is going on. He's having a panic attack.

"Love, it's me. It's Dallas. Would you please look at me?" I whisper. I take one of his hands in mine and pull him up to my chest. He's shaking too much to keep himself up, but I've got him.

"D-D-Dallas?" he whispers. "Yeah, love. I'm here. We're doing this together, alright? Come here, I've got you," I whisper to him, steadying his back as I put him to straddle me.

He slumps into my chest, flinching violently as he cries. "I-I'm n-not o-okay." Yeah, no shit. I hug him tighter.

"That's fine, Dylan. Squeeze my hand if you are passing out, yeah? I really hope you don't, though. What about we talk a little?"

He shuts his eyes and gasps. I look down at his face, but quickly realize he's gasping for air. I rub his chest, trying to help him.

"Do you have a dog?" I ask him, desperate to give him some distraction. He shakes his head. "That's a pity, you're clearly missing out," I tell him while taking notes of everything he does.

"A-am I?" Oh Lord, he's trying so hard. I shift him a little. "Yes, you are. You don't get daily hugs. No daily, very healthy walks. No licks in your face to wake you up." 

His chest trembles and I realize, it's a laugh. He tries to push himself off on my chest, but his arm is still shaking horribly so I tuck him closer.

"Sh, you're okay, love. Breathe in, breath out. Breathe in, breathe out. Just like that. You're doing so good, love," I whisper in his ear. I keep supporting him.

He slowly calms down, but he's nowhere near okay. When his breathing is finally okay again, he looks up at me. His eyes are connecting again, but they're still filled with tears. New tears.

"Tell me why you're crying," I demand, fiercely wiping them away. He sniffles and looks away. "I-I'm not good with people like you are, Dallas. I get uncomfortable if I get too much attention. And I felt it coming when we were in the hallway, but I didn't want to ruin things."

I go to wipe the following tears, but he's already wiped them. I nod, motioning I'm listening to him.

"They called me the f-word, Dallas. This was what I was fearing."

I tense and stare in his eyes. "Who said what?" He sobs. "Your friends..." Oh my fucking God.

I sit up and glare at the door, where I know they were fucking adding up to this. "I promise I didn't know, Dylan. I fucking promise. Fuck, I should've talked to them before showing up at your side. I'm sorry."

He sobs. "I'm—I can't do this." I stiffen. He can't do what? This? This as in us?

"Can't do what?" I ask hom softly. He sobs and wraps his small arms around me, still crying softly. "I want this. I really want. But I can't go out there and act like nothing's wrong. I'm a mess, Dallas. I'm not okay—you just saw it. I just can't."

I tighten my grip around him, trying me best to comfort him. "Of course, love. We'll take this slow. Really slow."

He nods in my shoulder. "Please. I can't give you all of me at once." I kiss his hair. "I don't expect you to, Dylan. That's not how this works."

He sobs. "It's not? I've never done this, I'm sorry if I'm not making sense." His hands are gripping my shirt tightly, but I absolutely don't mind.

"Look, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna take this very slow. I'm gonna beat up my friends and you are gonna calm down."

He sheepishly nods. "Can we go on a date, maybe? I'm not used to this," he mumbles and toys with my shirt. I sigh. I don't get how they can screw him up this bad.

"A deal. You get the dates and I get the hugs, yeah?" He gives me a small smile and hugs me tighter. "Thank you for calming me down."

"Of course, love. No need to thank me."