Summary: you have a panic attack, Jim comforts you
Warning: reader is having a panic attack, if you are not comfortable with this do not read
Notes: hope you're ok but if you're struggling please talk to someone about it
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The space around you is getting closer. You have to get out, away from here! You try to get up and fall back to your seat. You can't! Tears form in your wide open eyes. Your breath is getting faster and shorter. Where has the air gone all of a sudden?
You hold your chest, try to breathe through your mouth to pump more oxygen into your lungs. It doesn't work. Your breaths remain short and irregular.
The first tear comes loose, running down your cheek. That's it now? Is this how your life ends?
Someone rushes to you. "Y/N what's wrong?" Jim grabs your shoulder, looming in front of you.
You look to him, dazed. Your face streaming with tears. You point to your chest. He understands immediately and drops down beside you.
"Breathe with me." He says worriedly and breathes in and out loudly. You try to follow him, it doesn't work.
You screw up your face and try to say something. Your voice breaks. He takes your hand from your chest, holding it gently. His thumb circles your skin soothingly. "Focus on me."
Again, he breathes in and out. This time it works better. You breathe in, oxygen filling your lungs. You follow his breath. Concentrate on it and stare into his face.
Slowly you feel like you did before the panic attack. You look around the room. It still feels a little tight but not as strong as just now.
Your gaze drifts to your lap, to Jim's hand clasping yours. He gives you time.
Eventually Jim speaks, "Are you okay now?"
You nod. "Thanks. I thought I was dying." He slides closer to you, puts his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you to his chest. He kisses your forehead.
"How long did it go on?" He whispers into your hair. You shake your head. Your eyes glaze over at the thought. "Not long."
Jim nods slightly and lifts his hand to your face, wiping your wet cheek. "I hate to see you suffer."
You sniffle. "There's nothing you can do about it."
"That's exactly what I hate! I can't do anything." His arms pull you closer to his body. You straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his torso.
His hand runs through your hair. "Thanks again. If it wasn't for you, it might have turned out differently."
"Of course. "
You remain seated until you feel ready to get up and face the rest of the day. Jim stays around you more. Afraid you might have another panic attack, but luckily you don't.
