Back to the start line - Minsung

2.2 The second attempt

We've been running this far,
nonstop, all day, yeah.
Never getting tired,
we keep up this runner's high.

Even though it's over,
it's not the end.

Yeah, we're ready at
the start line

~~~

Apologies and excuses fall from his mouth repeatedly as he makes his way through the thick crowd. He's in hurry; He couldn't care less what people might think of him. Yes, he may be rude, bumping into people and not caring. But yes, he's in hurry and it's the worst tine of the day to be out, namely, the rush hour.

The gut feeling and the anxiety tells him he's late. He should have checked the time before leaving. He should think before doing. He is such a scatterbrained person, oh dear Lord.

Nonetheless, his brain tells him to run. His brain tells him he's late.

He is lucky to have this light and petite type of a body as well as have quick feet. However, the clumsiness and the ridiculously slow reflexes he is cursed with don't quite help him right now.

On a calmer day, it usually takes him twenty minutes to walk from home to work. Usually, he uses that walk as a nice, relaxing moment to unwind his mind plagued my whatever. The late autumn sun is warm on his skin as he watches the leaves falling and flying in the air.

Not today.

He didn't expect this though.

He has never been a fan of people, much less crowds of them. In addition, they're strangers.

He doesn't know if it's his brain playing tricks on him again or if all the poeple are actually staring at him. He feels their eyes on him and it feels uncomfortable. It's like they're scolding him, judging him. He wants them away from him.

He can see so many things, hear so many things and his mind is on a full alert mode. It's agonising not to be aware of his surroundings enough or able to focus on one thing at hand. It's scary and he's starting to feel dangerously close to the edge.

The edge of a panic attack.

Nowadays, he's usually able to manage his anxiety well enough. And if he slips, it usually isn't as severe as it used to be.

In the middle of a crowd of strangers, alone, with no room or a way out, he feels trapped. He feels lost.

He needs to get out of here. So, he speeds up his steps.

He doesn't end up far until he's colliding with another body; taller and firmer than him. He manages to keep himself in balance and on his feet so that he doesn't fall to the ground and get stepped on.

It comes out of nowhere so suddenly Jisung gets caught of guard and loses his breath for a moment. Suddenly, it's harder to breathe properly, inhaling cut short and exhaling shaky, barely there.

He closes his eyes, wishing to disappear. He feels the panic pooling inside of him, hopelessness and helplessness invading to him. He wants to go home. He wants out of here.

Please.

He doesn't even realize the person in front of him calling for him and looking at him.

As he relaizes, he flinches back, tears in his eyes.

The face is familiar, sharp features, feline eyes, brown hair-

It's Minho.

Thank God.

Jisung cries out, jumping onto the older. Minho catches him, slightly taken aback.