More Than Friends

Panic Attacks

*Warning* Mentions of self harm and panic attacks

Stan

Stan barely registered Kyle jolting out of the seat next to him as his heart thundered in his chest and his fingers slipped under his sleeve to dig into his wrist. He vaguely noticed Kenny waving his hand in front of his face as his eyes darted around until he saw what he was looking for. He shot out of his seat and raced for the bathroom, the muffled sounds of Kyle and his mom arguing outside barely reaching his ears.

He slammed into the bathroom and flung himself into the corner stall, sliding to the floor. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. He clamped his hands over his ears, and tried to block out the sound of his heart thumping, as he buried his face in his knees. He struggled to breathe as his throat constricted, his brain racing. Don't call here again. Sheila's voice echoed in his mind, combining with the sight of her angry face outside, until it was on a loop in his head. His vision blurred as tears threatened to fall. Stop,stop,stop. Please just stop. His fingers dug into his scalp as his breathing sped up. Don't call here again. Her tone had said what words hadn't. Trash. Not good enough. He gripped his hair tighter as the words swam in his mind.

Through the haze he was slightly aware of voices above him. "What's going on?" This one was calm, monotone. "I don't know, I think he's having an asthma attack, and he doesn't have his inhaler." This one was panicked. Hearing footsteps stop in front of him, Stan peeked at the floor, seeing a pair of coffee stained shoes. "Kenny, stop freaking out and wait outside."
"What, why?!"
"Just do it, goddamn it."
Stan heard a pair of footsteps leave the bathroom as someone squatted down in front of him. "Stan, look at me."
Stan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bury his head further into his lap, as he started to shake. A rough hand gripped his chin, jerking his head up. Stan's eyes shot open, Craig's calm face staring back at him.
"Hey. Breathe. Deep breaths. In 1 2 3 4 5. Out."
Stan's breathing slowed as he focused on Craig's monotone voice. He pulled his hands away from his head slowly, bringing them down to rest in his lap. 1 2 3 4 5. He slipped his fingers under his sleeve and started tracing the scars on his wrist. Craigs eyes flicked down briefly, then back to his face. Stan felt his hand leave his face to rest on his knee, fingers tapping a rhythm. 1 2 3 4 5.
Unconsciously, Stan's fingers stroked his wrist in time to Craig's tapping. 1 2 3 4 5. He felt his heart rate returning to normal, as his breathing evened out.
1 2 3 4 5.

His head jerked up when he heard the door open and a quiet voice call out. "Craig?"
"In here, honey. I'll be out in a few, okay?" Craig's hand never left his knee, still tapping as Tweek answered. "Okay." The door shut, and Stan continued to time his breathing with Craig's tapping. Feeling calmer, he glanced up to see Craig staring at him intensely.
"How long has this been going on?"
Stan looked back at his lap, face reddening, as he mumbled.
"A while."
He heard Craig shift and sit in front of him, withdrawing his hand from Stan's knee.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of."
Stan's gaze flicked back up to Craig. "How did you know what to do?"
"Tweek." Craig said simply, shrugging. Stan nodded, feeling dumb. Duh.
Craig leaned forward slightly, peering at him. "You good?"
Stan nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah."
Craig stood, his tall frame towering over him, and extended his hand out. Stan grabbed it and hauled himself up off the floor. He brushed himself off and looked at the tall boy in front of him. "Hey, Craig?" Clear blue eyes met his. "Thanks."
Craig shrugged, a tiny smile flitting across his lips. "No problem."

They both jumped when the bathroom door slammed open, a very red faced Kyle tumbling in, chest heaving. His eyes met Stan's, taking in his disheveled appearance. "Dude are you ok?! Kenny said something was wrong." Craig glanced at them both briefly, then slipped out the bathroom door.
Kyle moved forward and put his hand on Stan's shoulder, eyes worried. "Stan?"
Stan stared at the floor, not trusting his voice, as Kyle kept looking at him.
"Stan, talk to me. Please?"
He slid his gaze up to see his best friend still looking at him worriedly. He sighed and shrugged Kyle's hand off his shoulder, catching a flash of hurt flicker in the redhead's eyes. Instantly regretting it, he tried to smile.
"I'm fine Kyle, really."
Kyle looked at him skeptically, narrowing his eyes. Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Dude, I really don't want to talk about it right now."
Kyle nodded slowly, and exhaled loudly. "Okay."
Stan watched his shoulders slump, his face clouding.
"Dude, are you okay?" He watched Kyle squeeze his eyes shut, before taking a deep breath. "Yeah. Um, do you think I could stay over again tonight?" Stan looked at him in surprise as Kyle fidgeted with the edge of his jacket.
"Yeah dude, of course."
Kyle flashed him a small grateful smile. "Thanks."
Stan nodded and stepped around Kyle, reaching for the door handle.
They stepped out of the bathroom, Kenny immediately bombarding them with questions as he followed them back to their table. As they passed the register, Stan saw Tweek shoot him a worried look. He smiled reassuringly at the twitchy blonde before turning his attention back to Kenny's incessant questions. They sat back down at their table, Kenny looking at them expectantly. Stan sighed, and slid down in his seat. "Dude, I'm fine, just drop it okay?"
Kenny glared at him crossing his arms, then turned to look at Kyle. "Hey, I don't know any more than you do." Kyle said defensively. Stan saw Kenny's
jaw tighten in anger. Wanting to diffuse the situation, Stan took a deep breath, and sat up in his seat, staring at his hands as he wrapped them around his cup.
"I get panic attacks."