captain, my captain (constristing)

breathing difficulties.

The bell rang out softly, as the door clattered open. The footsteps that entered were sporadic and panicked, unsure and uneasy. The woman behind the counter turned towards the door and watched as a soldier stumbled into the shop, his army boots clattering against the laminate flooring of the shop. He was dressed in full uniform, a swagger stick clutched so tight in his left hand that his knuckles had gone a yellowish white colour. The officer had a thick moustache and a modest, practical haircut. There was blood on his face, on his hands, and even from across the shop, she could see patches of thick crimson sticking his uniform to his torso and legs. There were tears pouring down his face in hot streams, the lakes of tears tumbling off his cheeks, off his chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. She’d never thought military personnel had it in them to cry. She had assumed that they had it trained out of them, that they had been trained to be cool, calm, and collected at all times. Oh boy had she been wrong, and she was only just learning that as a soldier right from the Second World War stumbled into her shop, covered in dark, sticky crimson patches, tears pouring down his face in a frenzied rush and his face a muddle of confusion and pure, gut-wrenching fear. She leapt from behind the counter, rushing over.
* 
Jamie walked through the empty halls of Thorne House. Thorne House was a relatively safe house, deep within greenery and fields of Southern England. It was shielded by an army of trees, hidden from prying eyes. And yet, Jamie knew that Tony was always paranoid about the house getting infiltrated, constantly worried and concerned that the Germans, the enemy, would find the house, ruin the peace. Jamie had tried to comfort Tony, tried to make it so that he wasn’t constantly paranoid about the house being unsafe, wasn’t constantly on guard. But it never worked. At least not fully, not completely. Jamie took another deep breath, trying to clear his mind, clear the pit of uneasy anxiety that sat deep in his chest. He could just tell that something was wrong, that something wasn’t right with Tony. The longer that Jamie went without being able to find Tony, the more settled and prominent the heavy pit of deep, unsteady anxiety was in his chest. The more convinced that he would find Tony in a situation that he shouldn’t be in. Jamie took a deep breath. He knew Tony better than anybody else. 
* 
She stood, resting her hands on the soldier’s shoulders. 
“Hey! Hey! Are you ok? Wait, sorry, that’s a dumb question, sorry. Of course you’re not ok. What happened?” spilled desperately from her mouth attempting to comfort the soldier and garner what had happened. How a Second World War soldier had popped up in the 21st Century was beyond her, but now was not the time to ask questions. So, with her hands clutching desperately at the thick moustached World War Two soldier's shoulders, she soothed him, comforted him, tried to get him to speak to no avail. He only wept. Sobbing hot streams of tears.
* 
Tony leant against the wall, tears trickling down his cheeks, fear pent up and overwhelming his chest. He was struggling to breath, his lungs constricted by fear and anxiety. Tony thumped his fists against the wall behind him. The tears tickled and poured down his cheeks in hot streaks, dripping from his chin, leaving wet patches on his shirt collar. Embarrassed by his emotions and tears, Tony had shut himself away in his office, locking the door. He couldn’t have all the soldiers in his command see their Commanding Officer in such a vulnerable position. Tony had spiralled, convincing himself he just wasn’t good enough. That, coupled with his fear that the enemy was going to infiltrate Thorne House resulted in….well, Tony locked in his office alone, crying on the floor. He knew exactly what he was doing, he had worked so hard to get to where he was, and yet, here he was. Sat against the wall, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and his chest contristing, his lung struggling. In attempts to relieve the frustration at himself for not know what to do, Tony was thumping his fists against the wall behind him and the floor beside him, blood starting to spill delicatlely from his hands. Why couldn’t he just do this? Why was it all so difficult for him all of the time? Why couldn’t he put up with loud noises, with constant noise? Why did he struggle being around people for prolonged periods of time? Why were there days he couldn’t speak? What was wrong with him?
And the self-deprecating thoughts kept spiralling and spiralling, leading Tony down a seemingly never ending spiral of self-loathing and self-deprecation that he didn’t know he was capable, that he had within him. The hot tears only flooded through, burning hot streaks. His breathing struggling to get oxygen throught, struggled to get the oxygen flowing through and around.
* 
Jamie inhaled deeply, attempting to refuel his lungs, fill them with much needed oxygen. It burnt. Tears glistened his eyes, squeezing out and trickling down his cheeks ever so gently. His mind was running a million miles an hour, worrying about Tony. He knew Tony was kind of his superior, his commanding officer, but he knew what Tony was like. He would get in his head out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason. Things that were so trivial to others really affected Tony. Fear would build up inside him, forming a thick ball, a heavy pit, and explode from within in a mess of hot tears and breathing difficulties. And Jamie was always so worried about him. He knew Tony was different, anxious about everything, overwhelmed easily by noise and people. Jamie knew he didn’t need to, shouldn’t worry so much about Tony, and yet.... 
Regardless, Jamie always had Tony in the back of his mind, was always thinking about him. So, as he breathed ever so deeply, filling his lungs back up, he tried to think of what could have possibly triggered him disappearing off like this. He had no idea what had happened. But he knew he had to fix it. He knew that he had to help his commanding officer. Jamie set his jaw and set further int0 Thorne House, desperate to find and help Tony.
“Tony? Tony?” Jamie called, close to shouting. He tried to keep his tone even and calm, knowing Tony was probably crying somewhere, fear pent up in his chest. That’s when he’d heard it. The banging, the sharp, shallow breathing, the angry, scared sobs. He knew where his captain was. 
So, he ran.
* 
Tony took a sharp intake of breath as he heard the thundering footsteps, his panicked fear only strengthened, the pit in his chest ever present, constricted and tight. He knew his door was locked, he had checked and double checked it. Another thing to go on upon the list of things he hated about himself, the things he despised, hated, deperecated. Tony’s chest burned as he refused to breathe, knowing it would be loud and shallow, shattered. It took any remaining effort to not slam his fists again. He held every inch of his body still, holding it in place, fearing that even the slightest move would blow his location. Then the banging on his door began. He jerked away from his, sprouting a fresh flood of hot, burning tears stumbling, fighting down his cheeks.
“Captain Williams? I know you’re in there sir,” the voice said softly.
Tony knew that voice. He knew it intimately. It was Lieutenant Haversfield. Tony knew he was safe. But he still didn’t want to open the door, he couldn’t open it. He couldn’t face Haversfield with tears streaming down his cheeks, his chest constricted by a mass of fear and anxiety, his legs unable to hold his weight, his lungs struggling to breathe. Regardless, he let out a gasp, his lungs burning for the air they couldn’t get. Tony hit his head gently against the wall, his fists following. There was no point lying to Haversfield. Haversfield knew him too well. 
“I’m coming in sir. I’m alone sir. I promise,” Haversfield’s voice drifted through the crack of the door, through the lock. The lock clicked; the door gently pushed open. Haversfield’s head popped through the crack, a soft, gentle smile on his lower face. Tony turned to face the door, tears glistening his eyes, still pouring down in streams down his ever-burning cheeks. He thumped his fists against the floor a few times as his head bounced on the wall, Jamie hurrying to him. 
“I had a key ma- hey, hey, hey, hey sir. Can’t have you doing that now can we?” Haversfield chuckled, reaching out, grabbing hold of Tony, pulling him in tight. “You’re ok sir. You’re ok with me. I’ve got you sir,” Haversfield whispered ever so softly into Williams’ ear. Whilst clutching at his commanding officer, Jamie could feel him shaking. He rested his head upon Tony’s, whispering softly to him.
“Breathe sir. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. In 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. There we go sir. That’s more like it. There we go sir. Can you count to 10 for me please sir? Yes sir? Jolly good sir.” Jamie whispered to him gently. Jamie lifted a hand from Tony’s shoulder to stroke Tony’s hair. His fingers fiddled mindlessly with the strands. “You’re ok. I’ve got you now sir. I’ll always have you sir,” Jamie added absently, not fully realising what he was saying until Tony had sat up, forcing his way through Jamie’s arms, the words having drifted softly from Jamie, laying themselves upon Tony like a warm blanket. 
“Lieutenant Haversfield....”
Jamie could feel himself started to burn up, embarrassed by his omission. 
“Nothing sir, I apologise. I should not have said anything.” 
Tony leant up, placing a kiss so delicately upon Jamie’s lips that it might not have even happened. Tony jerked back, unclenching a fist, and placing the unfurled hand upon his own mouth. 
“I....I’m so....sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” stumbled from his mouth so fast, it sounded like a breath, a pathetic expulsion of air. Testing his legs, Tony stood. There was a brief wobble before he was able to hold his own weight. “Please....please don’t t-te-” he drifted off as he turned away. “I shall place my transfer effect of immediately,” he stated before nervously walking off. It was far from his normal confident stride. It was shaky, cautious. Uneasy. Jamie paused for a brief moment, trying to wrap his head around the incinuation, stood, and ran after him, calling his name in such a hurried rush that he stumbled over it, his tongue suddenly too big to form words efficiently. 
“Sir, please!” Jamie called with significant difficulty, forcing himself to slow down his speech. Breathing softly, deeply, forcing himself to pause. Then he bolted at Tony, tackling him to floor. He firmly planted his face upon Tony’s.
Jamie pulled away, tugging his commanding officer up off the floor.
“Apologises sir. Drastic measures….and….all….” he trailed off. He stood bolt upright, his hands placed behind his lower back. The stance they’d been taught to use. Haversfield was caught by surprise as Captain Williams pulled him into a nearby room.
“Come Haversfield. We can’t be in the open like this. It’s too dangerous. Who knows what would happen if we were caught like this.” Tony mumbled gently, the door clicking closed behind them.
* 
The soldier wept violently, his body shaking. 
“He’s gone.” was all he managed to get out through the violent gut-wrenching sobs. “I’ll never get to see him again. I tried to save him. I love him, and now he’s gone. Forever.”