See Me and Accept Me (a prinxiety fanfiction)

Chapter 8 - The Beginnings of Control

For days I haven't left my room, partly in order so that the hospital people could get their job done and so Thomas could have an optimal recovery. Partly because I can't face him or anyone else - I could barely face myself.

I'm nearly always asleep for a change, I just don't have the energy to stay awake. Even if I did, no one would visit me – they must know how repulsive I am now. Even as I think, my mind begins to drift back to slumber – there's only so long that I can stand my own company for.

The tendrils of sleep are just beginning to drag me back down into their depths, when my door flings off its hinges. Squinting, I can see a blurred figure in the doorway. "That fiberglass was expensive!"

The silhouette stomps over and rips the bedsheets off me. "Hey I could have been naked!" I reach for the blankets, I long to pull them back over me, to fall asleep.

"It is time for you to come out!" My vision focuses and I can see a sash-clad moron towering over me, raised eyebrows above a fierce glare. I think about getting up, about facing what I've done, but I know I cannot. Something of this emotion must detail on my expression, because all it takes is Princey's "Are you . . .ok?" to tear up my eyes. "Oh my gosh Anxiety, whatever is wrong? Let me kill it for you!"

Shaking my head at his royal idiocy, I manage a small smile at his attempt to annoy me. But it lasts only a second before I am dragged back under the tsunami of guilt. "I nearly killed him, it was me . . . all the stress I put him under" Streaking down my face, my tears reveal only a fraction of what I feel inside. I no longer care at how exposed I am making myself in front of Princey – I'm sure it won't be long before I'm ostracized anyway – may as well make the most of having someone vaguely care.

"What? Did you force-feed him pizza? And ice-cream? And Pot Noodle?"  If this is his idea of a joke, it's about at funny as a dead skunk.

"No – I only need exist to stress him out" And god only knows that I do.

"No, you cause his anxiety . . . you don't put the stress on his heart. His eating habits do that" What? His diet? That's what has stressed his heart? Not me? No, that can't be right, everything is nearly always my fault – Morality said it himself.

"So . . . it's not my fault?" In an oddly tender gesture, Princey reaches up and thumbs away my tears, until my face is dry.

"Not at all. If anything, this event has had positive outcomes – Thomas is actually learning how to cook! You should see how pleased Dad is" Princey went on to talk about what the others were up to - it sounded as though they didn't blame me whatsoever. Although it did upset me how only Princey had chosen to check up on me. Whatever, baby steps. "However, don't think that you're getting out of feeling this way and NOT TELLING ME" I cringe, I know that I should have – could have – spoken to him about this, I'm just so used to being on my own.

"Sorry, I'm just not used to having a, err, friend. And thanks . . . Roman . . . for looking after me when I . . . well you know" Princey released a gentle smile, a balm to my frazzled nerves. I've never really had a reason to thank anyone before, it's a bit of a new experience for me (how tragic). "You were brilliant" I tell him, because he truly was.

"Aren't I always?" I snigger at his vanity, something I can't fault him for, because he does seem to be practically perfect in every way. "Although, researching anxiety coping methods may have helped out with that"

Once again I am shocked, he actually took the time to research my condition, to help me? Mind-blowing. I'm beginning to believe more and more that he must genuinely care about me.

"You did? Thank you Roman, you really helped" With so much more than the panic attack – with my loneliness, with my acceptance, with everything. I'm tempted to cross a line and bring him down for a cuddle, to eradicate the space between us, to press my soft body up against his hard muscled one. At some point I have no doubt that he will ask me about my comment, about my confusion during the movie, but for now he entertains me with small talk about a conspiracy theory novel I lent him. For now.