「look at the stars」 | Johnnyboy

T h r e e .

His eyes flickered open, half expecting to see someone hovering over him, but all he was greeted with was a bright light and a pounding head. He grimaced as he tried to sit up, the dizziness faint but still there. "Where am I?" His words felt slow; almost slurred, in a way. Had they given him something? It felt like his mouth wasn't working properly.

"You're in the clini-- no, no, stay down. It's not good for you to be standing up right now." He felt a delicate hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle push backwards until he was lying flat on the bed. He closed his eyes, this time willingly, praying the pain would go away soon. He tried to reach up to touch his head, but his arm felt weak.

"I'm fine." His chest ached and was tight. It felt as if he'd been heaving for hours, though he didn't remember doing so. The headache was no doubt from how hard he'd hit the floor, but that didn't explain the rest of it.

"Based on your heart rate, it seems like you could've experienced some kind of anxiety attack." He cracked one eye open. Anxiety attack? Lady, I'm having a damn heartattack.

He kept his mouth shut, despite his mind panicking. He didn't feel like having to try so hard to form words -- it was too much work for such a simple action. "Are you in any pain? Have you experienced any high stress levels lately?" He wanted to answer, to specify just what symptoms he had so that she could get him to a hospital, but instead he just nodded. "Can you specify?" She had a clipboard in front of her, hand clinging to a pencil and hovering over the paper. It reminded him of a therapist, though he'd never actually seen one himself.

"My chest--" His words came out easier this time, much to his relief. "I can't breathe." He panted, his throat more dry than he ever remembered it being before. She nodded, checking something off on the paper.

"Common signs of anxiety." How could this woman be so calm? I'm dying! His mind screeched, but again, he said nothing.

"Do you have some wa-" His voice faded out before he could finish the sentence. He inhaled shortly and tried again. "Wa...ter?" There it was; the slurred speech. He internally groaned. He hadn't even noticed any feelings of anxiousness, how could it have just hit him like this? Something was wrong, this couldn't just be anxiety. Could it? Hell, he didn't know. Maybe he could ask Johnny... If he were here, he would.

"Mhm." She hummed slowly, turning and making her way to the dark teal colored counter. She pulled a small styrofoam cup out, filling it with fresh water before bringing it back to him. He grabbed it with the arm that didn't feel limp, downing it within a matter of mere seconds. His throat felt a little better, but the rest of the symptoms remained.

"I need a hospital." He finally stated, after he'd found his voice again.

"Now, let's not be rash. I can call a parent or a guardian, but I really don't believe a hospital is needed." He stared at her a long moment, mind moving. Darry would take him, wouldn't he? Ponyboy murmured something, but she didn't hear him. "What was that?"

"I w...as just asking if you could call my oldest br...other." He repeated, tone soft and whisper-like even through the slurs. She nodded, taking a seat at her desk and flipping through the file cabinet. She skimmed her hand over the top of them, stopping at one and sliding it out.

"There's a number here for a Darrel Curtis?" She spoke after a moment. He simply nodded, gaze focused on the plain tile floor below them. The room appeared to be moving disturbingly fast, but maybe focusing on one thing would cause it to stop. To no avail, but one thing was for sure; he wasn't about to try and stand. He'd made that mistake in class and he'd be damned if he did it again.

He moved his gaze to the ceiling, eyes fluttering closed once more and a deep breath filling his body. In-1 2 3 4 5, out-1 2 3 4 5, in-1 2 3 4 5, out-1 2 3 4 5. Johnny once told him that it helped his nerves to do this a few times. He figured if he slowed his heart beat, something had to get better. Unless he actually was dying, which at this point didn't sound too far fetched. He heard a click, but didn't bother opening his eyes to see what it was. His eyelids felt heavy, as if someone were forcibly holding them down.

"Your brother said he'd be here in about thirty minutes." All he did in response was hum, though it was almost inaudible to her ears. Maybe resting a little more couldn't hurt...

☪ ☪ ☪

"Ponyboy, Ponyboy." He woke up to rough hands on his shoulders, and his first thought was that he really wished whoever it was would stop shaking him. His eyes opened to see Darry above him, face filled with concern.

"I'm up." He let out a gasp of pain as he sat up. His head felt more tense, for some reason, but he tried to push it back.

"What's going on?"

"I need to go to the hospital. I can't breathe, my head's pounding, I'm dizzy..." He trailed off, seeing his brother's facial expression. He thought he was being dramatic. Of course he did -- they never took Ponyboy seriously, at least in his own eyes, and he was tired of it. He wasn't just some adolescent who didn't know what he was talking about.

Darry sighed slowly, expression tired and worn. "Are you sure it's not just stress? You kids have a lot going on in school nowadays-"

"It's not just stress, Darry, something's wrong." His eyes may have been exhausted, but the love was clear in them as he gazed at his youngest brother. Ponyboy had never really had anything like the issue at hand happen, so it was a bit unusual. Finally, Darry nodded and turned to face the nurse.

"I guess I'll be checking him out of school for the rest of the day. Where do I sign?" She directed him to the front office, Ponyboy staggering behind. He wasn't too bad off now. Things were starting to get a little easier, though his balance felt awful and so did the rest of him. After signing the check-out form, Darrel wrapped a steady arm around him whilst his free hand latched onto the black and blue backpack he'd seen so many times before. He really was worried, if you wanted to know the truth. Though deep down, he was almost positive that the whole thing was due to stress. But, he supposed they'd just have to get a professional's opinion.