Bad Habit

twenty three

After the much needed hug the boys endured, they broke away, both a bit tearful and more than shaken up. Everything was so. . . Weird, that it almost felt normal. Finny made the first move to sit back down on his bed, but Moss stayed still. "Didn't you say you needed to sit down?" Finny asked, sniffling and crossing his legs. "Come on. Let's talk." Moss took a deep breath and nodded, walking towards his friend. He sat down next to Phineas but kept a rather good distance just for safe measure. Finny sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall.

"I didn't. . . I didn't mean to bombard you with all of that out of no where," Finny began, biting his bottom lip. "If I would've known it was going to induce a panic attack, I. . ."

"Panic attack?" Moss asked. "That's called a panic attack?" Finny stared blankly at him.

"Yeah," he said, simply, "Aro gets them a lot, hence how I knew what to do."

"Well, what even is it?" Moss asked, biting at his thumb nervously. A panic attack? That didn't sound good.

"I mean. . . Essentially it just happens when overwhelming circumstances are presented," Finny shrugged. "Like, in your case, you've been stressed out lately, one thing after another happening to you, and hearing that stuff about your coach kind of set you off. I don't know, your body kind of begins to shut down and go into survival mode. It's just due to stress, really."

"Why did my hands. . . Like, they went numb. Why?"

"It's just what happens," Finny shrugged, "blood moves away from the surface of your skin and into your muscles and deeper tissue which causes a tingling sensation, that's all. Panic attacks are scary but they aren't dangerous at all. You didn't die, did you?"

"I thought I was going to," Moss cried, throwing his head back. "That was terrifying." Finny offered a sympathetic smile and reached over to place his hand on Moss' knee comfortingly. Moss flinched but ultimately grinned at Finny and loosened up.

"Can I ask you something?" Finny asked suddenly as he retracted his hand. Moss swallowed hard and shrugged. Finny was going to ask anyways. "What. . . What is your coach to you? Like— how is your relationship with him?" Moss definitely didn't want to hear that as a question.

"Finny," Moss began with a testing voice, "I don't really want to discuss him. Or that."

"Moss," Finny pleaded, moving onto his knees, "listen. I want to know all there is to know about you, and this is a big part of your life. I want you to be able to trust me, okay? Just trust me. I don't judge you at all, I could never. Please, just let me in for a second." Moss shook his head, completely unsure.

Part of him so desperately wanted to let Finny in and never let him leave. He wanted to tell Finny everything and get all of his thoughts and opinions, but he was scared. Moss had some dark things hidden and he worried Finny would think differently of him after hearing about them. Especially after hearing about the whole coach fiasco. But he resolved himself to the fact that their friendship would never grow if they never opened up, and Moss wanted them to become closer, so he knew that this was what he had to do sooner or later. And sooner was probably better than later. "I don't like him," Moss began, looking down at a discarded tissue on Finny's floor. "I don't like him at all. Last year. . . We were close. But not this year."

"Why not?"

"Because," Moss groaned, hiding his embarrassed face, "because a lot happened. A lot and a lot of it is stuff you'd think less of me for."

"No, I wouldn't, I—"

"But you would," Moss retorted, "you say you wouldn't but you would. And I don't blame you for that. What I've done is not something to be proud of. It's embarrassing and it's gross and it's pathetic. I'm pathetic—"