Grace for Today

three - lavender haze

 TW: panic attack

A/N: The following description of a panic attack is based on my personal experiences. If you experience panic attacks, the odds that your experience will be the same as mine are extremely low. Please don't hit me with all the "yOuRe sO iNaCcUrAtE oH mA gAwSh cAnCeLlEd." Everyone's experience with these sorts of things is extremely different. 

"Wait, you what?" Claire couldn't tell if he hadn't heard or if he was in disbelief.

"I... I can't breathe," she repeated, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"Why can't you?"

"I don't know. It just hit me."

"I'm coming over."

"No," she said, accidentally putting more force behind her voice than necessary.

"I literally live, like, four minutes away from you. I'm coming over."

"You don't have to."

"Already in the car. I'm going to let you go now, I'll be over soon."

The faint dial tone told Claire that he'd already hung up, and there wasn't much she could do to stop him at this point.

She curled her knees up to her chest, wiping away a few tears she hadn't noticed falling.

Breathe.

She could feel her lungs rapidly contracting and expanding, but she couldn't feel the effects of the oxygen she was supposedly breathing. She felt lightheaded and her chest was starting to go from uncomfortable to hurting pretty quickly.

One minute down.

The seconds ticking by on her clock felt like a countdown to impending doom. The walls seemed to shrink as she attempted to curl herself even tighter on her plastic desk chair, her body rattling violently. She couldn't feel her body, yet she was hyperaware of everything she touched.

Two minutes down.

The plastic of her desk chair felt too smooth. Her jeans against her legs felt too rough, and her faded Avengers tee shirt felt too short. Her mascara felt too clumpy and chunky around her eyes, her foundation too wet, her lips too dry, and her messy bun every so slightly to the left- and it was infuriating, but she didn't think she could properly move and control her arms and hands enough to accurately fix it. She felt too hot and too cold simultaneously, a deep flush from the heat rising into her cheeks as her skin was covered in goosebumps.

Three minutes down.

She knew Oliver, and she knew he'd be here any second. She tried to shake it off, to take a deep breath, and then resume her physics studying, but it was to no avail. Everything felt like too much. It was excruciating, being this aware of everything happening.

At around the three-and-a-half minute mark, Claire heard the key turn in the door, a loud slam, and then footsteps pounding up the stairs, around the corner into her room. She didn't have to remove her face from the safety of her knees to know exactly who it was.

"Claire?" Oliver's voice rang out, cutting through the noise.

She couldn't bring herself to face him. She didn't know why she was so embarrassed- she'd known Oliver since she was five, and this was definitely not the worst state he'd ever found her in. Yet, she somehow felt as though looking at him would be admitting defeat, and admitting that whatever was happening to her was scary and unfamiliar and made her want to retract into a little Claire-turtle forever.