It was me in there( 9-1-1 )

Freakout

Buck's POV

The next few days were a blur. Eddie was always there, his presence a constant reassurance, but Buck couldn't shake the feeling that something was just... off. The weight on his chest had never fully lifted, and despite his attempts to pretend things were getting better, the cracks in his facade were becoming harder to ignore.

It happened late one evening, after dinner. Eddie was on the phone with a friend, his voice muffled as he talked in the other room, but Buck couldn't focus on anything but the sound of his own breathing. His chest felt tight, his heart racing, the familiar feeling creeping up on him like a shadow. He knew it was coming before it hit—he could always tell when it would. The room seemed smaller, suffocating. Every noise, every movement, felt too much.

He tried to focus on the TV, to distract himself, but the light from the screen flickered and danced in his peripheral vision, blurring everything else around him. His breath came in shallow bursts, each one harder than the last. The walls were closing in.

No. Not now.

He grabbed at his shirt, clutching it in an attempt to steady himself, but the panic was already taking hold. His hands shook violently, his palms slick with sweat. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, faster and faster, the familiar thud of terror echoing in his ears. His body felt like it was trembling, as if every nerve in his skin was on high alert, ready to break apart.

Breathe. Just breathe. The voice inside his head told him, but it was drowned out by the rising tide of panic.

His thoughts scattered, and all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. The world tilted, his vision darkening at the edges as he felt a wave of dizziness hit him. His throat tightened, like a vice around his neck, and he fought to pull in a breath, but it felt impossible. He tried to push the fear away, but it clung to him, heavy and suffocating.

It's happening again, he thought, the panic consuming him. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

His hands gripped the arms of the couch, knuckles white, his body tense as he fought against the overwhelming sense of doom. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears now, the thud of it drowning out every other sound.

And then, through the haze of panic, he heard Eddie's voice calling out from the other room. "Buck? You okay?"

Buck's chest tightened even more at the sound of Eddie's voice, and he tried to speak, but no words came out. His mouth was dry, his throat closing up, and the panic was rising higher, crashing through him like a storm.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

The thought looped over and over in his mind, and for a split second, Buck thought he might actually suffocate. The walls around him were closing in, the air becoming thinner, tighter, as if there was no escape from the overwhelming pressure.

"Buck?!" Eddie's voice was closer now, frantic.

Buck didn't realize he was standing until he felt his legs give out beneath him. He collapsed onto the floor, his back hitting the cold tile as the panic attack raged inside him. He curled into himself, trying to make the world stop spinning, trying to force his breath to return to normal.

"Buck, hey! Buck!" Eddie's footsteps were rapid, his hands on Buck's shoulders, shaking him gently, but it all felt like too much. The touch, the sound, everything. Buck's head was spinning, and his eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the overwhelming stimuli.

It's okay. It's okay. You're safe. You're not alone.

Eddie's voice pierced through the fog of panic, a steady anchor that pulled him back from the edge. Buck could feel Eddie's hand on his chest, grounding him, trying to keep him steady. But it was hard—so hard—to focus. The breath that escaped him was shallow, like he was fighting against an invisible force that was trying to crush him.