drawn - h.s.

xi.

[harry’s pov]

Something was very very wrong with me. I had never had a panic attack before, but I was pretty sure this was how they must feel.

It was in the middle of the night; I was sitting downstairs in the livingroom on the floor with my back up against the couch. The dark squared windows were creeping in on me it felt. Like they wanted to scare me off. I was only in black boxers and with my head in my hands, while the waves rolled through me. My legs were slightly bend in front of me. Body trembling as I hitched for air.

The glass of water I had made for myself before it got even worse lay on the floor between the kitchen and livingroom. The water had splashed out in every direction, as it had slipped from my grip and hit the floor. Now a huge dark area was soaked with the water. But I didn’t even notice it; I couldn’t breathe. My eyes stung. My heart stung. My fingers and legs were prickling with extreme edginess like I should be running for my life right now.

I leaned back against the black leather couch with a gasp of exhaustion and fear, as my hair stuck to my sweaty forehead. My heart couldn’t keep up; it was beating like I was about to drown and it worked with everything it had to provide me with the oxygen I needed. What was wrong with me? There were no dangers here? No crowds to crush me, no lethal heights to fall from or anybody who threathend me. Still it felt like I would die if I didn't get out of here as quickly as possible.

I pulled my legs up closer to my body, trying desperately to keep myself together as I once again rested my head on my knees trying to calm down. it's not real. It's not real. I tried to focus on the feeling of the black leather of the couch pressed against my shivering back; how it met my spine, musculature, and bare clammy skin. How that was real - this craving pain wasn’t real, this fear of missing something. It couldn’t be. It was irrational; a product of my mind which I should be able to control.

The next morning I felt the sunbeams fall over my cheek. They travelled through the air hitting the dust particles, which seemed to be glittering small stars floating in their very own little universe; dancing in between each other more elegantly than any ballerina. I could feel that someone had put a blanket over me; the one which usually lay on the arm of the couch. I moved a little; I was laying on the floor with my back against the couch still. I couldn’t remember dozing off, but a shiver ran through me at the memory of why I was here in the first place. My eyes travelled to the spot, where the glass had fallen last night. Now only a tea towel was placed on the soaked area and the glass was gone. My eyes travelled on to the kitchen, as I pushed myself up into a seating position. My head felt sore and I had a lump in my throat; my body felt so endlessly heavy. The place - my family home - looked beautiful bathed in the first morning sunbeams like this. The pictures of me and Gemma were illuminated and the light reflected in the elegant gold frames on the bookshelf. It hadn't been real. Only a feeling. An irrational feeling. 

It was a sound which had woken me; something from the kitchen. I leaned against the couch with my legs stretch out lazily in front of me, while the blanket was only covering my lower body halfly. I closed my eyes for a moment, just listening to the sounds. It was the kettle making noises, that had woken me. The fridge did the same old vibrating sound as it used to occasionally; the birds outside were twittering - the sound was so clear I knew the door leading from the kitchen and out into the backyard was open; I could hear the wind in the trees from outside but only very faintly. The sun fell on my closed eyelids and I finally felt absolutely calm; free from that nagging - almost painful feeling of having left something behind - or maybe forgotten something. It hadn't been real. There was nothing I had forgotten or anything I had to do.