Heart Attack (a HeartStopper story)

Nick. Learning to breath.

Song recommendation for the chapter: Tears ricochet - Folklore. - Taylor Swift.
———————-

Being compressed among so many people didn't allow him to take a deep breath.

The subway, at that hour, on that line, was impossible to even call suitable. Suitable for breathing. So many people getting on and off, squeezing those who were already inside, pushing those who were still outside. There were some brave or inconsiderate individuals who claimed every available centimeter for themselves. To do that, one had to possess the skill of expanding oneself, taking up space. Something he couldn't boast about. Others suffered in silence, contorting their arms and legs, trying not to touch or inconvenience anyone. In a way, these two extremes defined most of the people. You inconvenienced others for your own benefit, or you inconvenienced yourself, hoping the whole experience would come to an end soon.

He was somewhere in the middle, he liked to think. He preferred to do his best to find a place to lean on and thus be crushed, but comfortably, against fewer people.

He was nervous, very nervous, and it was impossible to pretend otherwise. He had barely left his last university class a couple of hours ago, and the work ahead of him to graduate overwhelmed him, perhaps too much. He wasn't entirely regretful of choosing a higher degree in pedagogy and a lower one in sports and health sciences; he felt they would bring him closer to becoming a good captain and coach someday. However, he would be lying if he said he wasn't depressed about not playing rugby for so long to complete his thesis. He loved teaching, at least that's what he had learned during his internships this past semester, but he loved playing even more, and the thought of months without playing scared him.

Even with that in mind, he knew that wasn't what made him so nervous, not as much as the proposal contract he had received in his email a couple of weeks ago. The sounds of the subway distracted him from his overwhelmed thoughts. An intimidating man with gray beard and a stench of cigarettes and greasy food finally moved away from the window, and Nick could see his reflection for the first time in the narrow windowpane. He hadn't changed as much as everyone said in the last 5 years. Sure, he had let his beard grow a bit, maybe cut his hair more often than before, but he saw the same foolish, immense teenager with his boring light brown hair and more freckles than truly interesting opinions. But he knew that teenager was gone. He wore a pale yellow shirt with a gray trench coat and loose black jeans. He looked tired, strange. The 25 years didn't suit him so well.

The idea of graduating and writing for a whole year wasn't what truly scared him; what scared him was where he was going to do it. A couple of weeks ago, while talking on the phone with Sara, his mother, she mentioned something that Nick couldn't ignore.

"Do you remember Coach Singh, dear?"

"Why would I forget her? She was my favorite teacher."

"Well, she's leaving Thruman; her wife got a job offer in London that they can't turn down. Both of them are leaving by the end of this semester... just around the time you'll be helping me with the move."

"That sounds like good news! Sad, I suppose, but good. I hope I can see her one more time before she leaves." Nick thought about visiting her once he moved to London. He knew the city well from his time at university, and having someone from home nearby would be comforting.

"I think you could do more than that, Nicky. I ran into her a few days ago and couldn't help but mention that you would be coming for a vacation to help me with the house and to celebrate the end of your classes... you have no idea how relieved she seemed, I wonder if she might want to talk to you soon."

And so she did. Coach Singh made me an offer I couldn't refuse. My return home would turn into a year of writing, graduating, and completing my internships at Thruman as a sports and body science coach. The proposal hit me like a ton of bricks, and I loved the idea. I could spend time with my mother, expand my resume, finish my studies, and...

Return home. Reconnect with so many friends, and maybe, see...

The subway suddenly stopped at the station where he had to get off, and the intense rush out of the car distracted him from the knot of anxiety that was beginning to form inside him. He had to focus on how exciting and happy it could be to see everyone again. He knew Say and Cristian would be visiting around Christmas, which was only a couple of months away, and Tara and Darcy had opened a small cultural space together that he was dying to explored, and they wouldn't stop pestering him for not having visited yet. Elle seemed to teach painting classes there from time to time when the university allowed it... he missed her so much. As for Tao and Isaac, he didn't know much about them since... everything happened, but thanks to social media, he knew they would be around soon.

Everything was falling into place, everything except two things.

One of them was what scared him the most, the enormous question of how he was going to handle the news of Imogen and him at home. They hadn't been dating for long, six months to be exact, but their friendship had grown a lot throughout college, and since both had chosen the same campus, everything... seemed to align. She was there for him when... everything happened. He was there for her in many more ways, and when they least expected it, they seemed to fall in love with each other. It was cute. Safe. Comfortable. New but strangely known and old. They had been friends since they were babies, so their families didn't seem so surprised... everyone except his mother, who, even though she loved Imogen, Nick knew she didn't entirely approve.

"Nick, I adore your girlfriend, she's a wonderful girl," he remembered one of the many calls he had had about Imogen with his mother, in which Nick tried to get her true opinion on their relationship.

"So?"

"So nothing, dear, that's it. If you're happy, I'm happy."

But Nick knew she wasn't telling him the truth; he saw how she looked at them when they spent time together, the three of them, or at family dinners when it seemed like no one else was paying attention. Sara seemed to notice something that no one else did.

"How did Imogen take the news?"

"She's excited for me, she knows it's a great opportunity. Although I know something's bothering her. If she could and it weren't for her classes, I know she would come with me immediately."

"I understand... well, I don't blame her, dear, I would have my doubts too if I were her. Besides, don't worry; Christmas is just around the corner, and we'll celebrate here at home one last time all together."

"That sounds good... What do you mean when you say you would have your doubts?"

"Oh, dear, I love you, but sometimes you're very naive."

"Mom!"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. Coming back here, seeing everyone. Seeing him. I understand why Imogen is restless. God, even I am restless."

Seeing him. Seeing him again.

Finally leaving the subway to the wet and cold streets of London, Nick finally thought about the root of his fears and nerves. He didn't think about the surfaces, or all these ancillary things that made him feel inadequate but only constituted the tip of the iceberg. He didn't think about his new job, his thesis, his girlfriend, his friends. He didn't think about anything, and once again learning to breathe, he stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall. He felt his heart beating as if it were going to have a heart attack, and he finally accepted why he was so afraid of embarking on this new adventure.

After all that had happened, seeing him again was the only thing he truly didn't know how to handle or how he would feel.

Because, after all, what scared him the most was meeting Charlie again.