FLO: I Am Not My Father's Son [Zarry Stylik AU]©️

8

Harry sat Jaimie down on the edge of the bathtub. The young man continued to cry and gasp, with blood coming out of his nose.

After a quick assessment to understand Jaimie wasn't in any sort of imminent danger, Harry drove him to his house. During the entire ride, Jaimie sat in the back, curled up on the seat crying his heart out. Even Harry became teary-eyed when hearing the boy's sobs. Getting him home was arduous as well, as Jaimie didn't have the strength to walk - not because he was hurt, but because he was having a panic attack and all he wanted to do was lay down.

After a while, Harry held on to him and walked him into the house, straight to the bathroom and sat him down.

"Hang on, I'll be back," Harry advised. Jaimie held on to his wrist, not wanting to be left alone. He didn't say a word, he just kept crying. The photographer calmed him down, with a soothing voice. "Just popping by the kitchen to get you something for your eye. Two seconds. I promise."

Jaimie let go of Harry's wrist, being alone in the bathroom.

It had all happened so fast! One minute he was running for his life, the second he was pushed down to the concrete and ganged on by the group. He was stomped, kicked, and punched. He fought hard as well: managed to kick one boy in the nuts and another right in the face. He clocked one of the twins too, he was sure.

Once he got knocked down, everything was a blur. In the end, there were just too many of them and only one Jaimie. Once they were done, the gang left Jaimie on the wet concrete feeling miserable, dirty and hurt. Jaimie picked up his backpack from a puddle and wandered to the closest place he could find to sit and breathe.

No one helped.

No one even looked at him.

He sat down on the bench, noticing he didn't have his phone or wallet.

Everything hurt. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. All Jaimie could register was pain. And now, he was crying. Fully, convulsing and crying. It wasn't like the crying session he had alone in his bedroom or when he let his head on Poppy's shoulder - this was pure exhaustion. This was everything building up to that moment and just bursting through him.

Harry came back and placed something cold in his hand.

"Here," He said. "Hold this."

Jaimie focused on his hand seeing a bag of frozen peas. Before he knew it, he had stopped the convulsive crying. He was confused.

Why was he holding a bag of frozen peas?

Harry opened and closed cabinets, searching for items to clean his wound.

"What's..." Jaimie sniffed. Focusing on the package, feeling the peas against his palm. He read the brand and admired the packaging and how cold it was. "What's this?"

"Frozen peas."

"I-I get it. But...Why?"

Harry grabbed a small seat and sat in front of the young man.

"You're having a panic attack, Jaimie." Harry stated, balancing the emergency kit on his knee "By putting something freezing in your hand, your body will stop panicking and focus on whatever is in your hand. All attention will go to try and fix whatever issue the cold represents. How are you feeling?"

Jaimie noticed he had stopped panicking and was, indeed, calmer. The tears kept rolling down, but not in a frenetic way.

"I'm...I-I'm okay."

"Great," Harry responded. "Also, it serves as a great trick to keep your eye from swelling shut." Harry guided his hand and placed it on his left eye. Jaimie winced for a moment, but then welcomed the cold. "Better?"