Wednesday (One Shots and Imagines)

Attack [Wednesday x Male Reader]

Chest pains were a funny little thing. How are you supposed to tell the difference between heart palpitations and a trapped nerve in your chest or between your ribs? How are you supposed to differentiate between a full blown heart attack and a silly little panic attack? Wednesday wasn't sure- but she was certain that she didn't like the burning sensation that took over her chest, or the heavy anchor that seemed to have locked her ribs down.

It felt like a thousand needles were scraping the walls of her heart- she could feel the intercoastal muscles between her ribs contract and spasm- she could feel hot tar being poured over her panicked lungs, scorching her airways. She couldn't breathe. Wednesday knew she was breathing- she could see her chest raise and fall and raise-  but it felt like her lungs were flat and her throat collapsed.

Pathetic. That's what she was. A pathetic little freak who had no place in this world of people as tall as trees. She gripped tight into her knees as they contacted up to her chest, sitting on the cold bathroom floor. Feebly digging her nails into her bare shins in an attempt to grasp onto what little she could feel past the aching in her chest- but it was no use. Even after drawing blood under her nails with trembling hands.

She pondered if this was a sign. A sign that she wasn't strong enough to survive in such a harsh world. A sign that she was destined to live a life wrought with pain and loneliness where she would never fit in. Where she would never find anyone who would see her for her and her few likeable traits.

She wouldn't blame her body for shutting down if that were the case. After all, the phrase 'survival of the fittest' existed for a reason. While her peers seemed to strive in life, becoming a new wave of young pioneers, there she was- crying on the bathroom floor. Spending her time playing make-believe with her typewriter and pen. Finding solace in the morbid things that were already discarded by life. Maybe she would be next.

Wednesday didn't like this very much.

She gripped a hand to her chest- as if trying to breech the skin and bone to tear out her burning lungs but it was no use. She couldn't even remember the reason why she was in the bathroom to begin with. She couldn't recall what brought on this bout of concentrated panic and anxiety.

The sound of her fast thumping heart filled her mind and ears, pounding against her ear drums- along side the wheezing sound of her panicked, feeble attempts at breathing. Wednesday was unable to hear the door creak open.

With her head buried in her knees, she was unable to see the tall figure who had crouched down to her- nor did she feel his gentle touch as he rested a hand on the small of her bare back. She couldn't hear his voice as he called out to her.

It was only when he lifted her head to meet his that she saw him through clouded eyes- Y/N, crouched low and looking warmly at her.

"It's okay..." Y/N spoke but to Wednesday, it was little more than a muffled blur.

Between seized muscles and tired lungs, she struggled to latch onto him. She didn't understand how her skin could be so cold, yet her insides feel like they had been charred to a black dust. But his touch- it took over her.

This was one of the reasons why she loved him. Just touching him, he could soothe her every pain, her every anger, her every worry. Being in his arms lifted a world of weight off her struggling body. Feeling his hand rub up and down the ridges of her spine put out the embers in her heart- blew away the red hot ash that had clung to her lungs. And his voice put her racing mind at rest.

Maybe there was something Y/N was keeping from her- maybe he was like her and the others at Nevermore. Maybe he had some sort of ability that could help take people's pain away. Whether in actuality such a thought was true, Wednesday didn't care, because she believed as such.

Wednesday stopped crying, she stopped gasping for breath. She stopped convulsing and for the first time in what felt like hours, with his hand running lengths along her back, she sucked in all the cool air she could to soothe her tired lungs.

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Almost a year, huh?