Argument (oneshot)

Argument

He felt himself shaking, and he knew it was pathetic. He knew something was wrong with him, very wrong. The past two weeks were driving him all the way to insanity.

Nightmares upon nightmares he would have every night. This wasn't new, in fact his childhood was filled with them. They were mainly about missions that almost killed him and his family or school. Yet, they had never been this vivid and frequent, until two weeks ago that is.

And the panic attacks just made things worse for the captain. The nightmares could really only torment him at night, but the panic attacks were an all the time thing. They always started in the most compromising times too. The air in his lungs would stop and his mind would turn to a barrage of panic.

He looked into the living room, then at his mom. She sat peacefully and quietly as she read her book with her legs crossed. The thought of the "talk" they were about to have made him shake more. He wanted to ask—no, needed to ask this, he needed help.

Stepping forward he then spoke "Mom?"
She looked up and smiled, that smile somehow made his nerves worse "Yes starshine? You need something?"

"I- um can we talk please...?" she perked up a bit at the tone in his voice. "Of course Miles! Here," she put down her book and patted the couch seat. "Sit here!" He sat down, he was scared to say it, to ask it.

"So what's up?" Her eyes meet his, taking a deep breath he started. "So..um ya know how I got nightmares as a kid?"

"Yeah?" Her head tilted slightly.

"They've kinda come back... really bad.."

"Go on."

"And I've also been getting these panic attacks a lot..."

   "Okay..."

    He studied his mother's confused expression, maybe he should let the idea go? No. It wasn't a bad thing to get help, she said it herself.

    "It's just been kinda draining me, emotionally and physically..." Why was he beating around the moon rock? It was a simple phrase, why couldn't he just say it?

"Ok?"

"Like... really bad"

"Mhm..."

     "I've been th-"

      "Just get to the point," she started, "don't beat around the moon rock!"

Perhaps he was over thinking it, she would understand right? Miles took a deep breath, here goes nothing, "I-I want to go to therapy."

They sat there in silence for a good few seconds before Miles broke it again. "I don't think I'm mentally...well?" It felt kinda weird to say but it was true. He wasn't... well, maybe he never was.

Phoebe was quiet for a moment, "How...are you not well?" She looked at him confused almost annoyed?

"It's just I've have been having all these panic att-"

    "That's not a reason to go." She said cutting him off, "Hon, I don't think anything is wrong with you." Putting a hand on his shoulder she gives him a sympathetic smile. "You're fine! Maybe a little bit stressed, but you're not mentally ill."

     Miles just sat there, how could he not be mentally ill? If he was fine he wouldn't be having panic attacks on the clock. "But... something is wrong." His leg began to bounce a little as he fidgeted with his hands. 

     His mother just sighed, "Miles. Look at me."
Miles's eyes glanced up, "There. Is. Nothing. Wrong with you!"

"B-"