Imagines and Preferences: Book 1

Panic Attack | Tyler Joseph

Requested by @l_l_imhuman_l_l

TRIGGER WARNING

Summary: You have a panic attack and Tyler helps you through it.

QOTP: When do you think the new album will come out?"

Word Count: 1052

Go with Tyler on tour, they said. It'll be fun, they said. You'll be fine.

For the most part, you were.

You didn't have to stay at home, alone for months on end. You got to spend more time with Mark and Josh - and Tyler, too.

You went out with Mark to talk to fans who were camping outside of the venue, some of which expressed how much they loved you and took pictures with you. Tyler dedicated Tear in My Heart to you every time he sang it, which never got old.

It was surprisingly fun to be sleepily stumbling back to the bus or the hotel room, feeling lighter than air, yet coming down off an adrenaline high from just watching Josh and Tyler perform.

It was great.

And then it got bad.

To put it simply: Crowds. You hated them more than anything, and there were a few of them you had to get through. They consisted of fans and paparazzi, which have started showing up due to Tyler and Josh's rise in popularity.

The first time, you were freaked out, but Tyler had your right hand, and Josh had your left. It was scary, but you made it out fine. There were three more after that, and you slowly got accustomed to only holding Tyler's hand and your breath until you got to the other side, where you were perfectly fine.

The fifth crowd is where it went wrong.

You stepped off the tour bus after a show, their bodyguard and Tyler in front you, Josh and Mark behind. There was a huge crowd in front of your hotel.

Tyler grabbed your hand and started leading you through it.

Your nerves spiked, your breathing became heavier. There were people screaming in excitement, there were paparazzi shouting out questions about albums and romantic relationships.

And there was the pushing. Jostling. Hundreds of people fighting for room, a picture, an autograph. A glimpse. Understandable.

Some people got close. They pushed against you, trying to get to Tyler. They pushed towards him. They pushed on your hands, holding each other.

And just like that the rope tied to the anchor was severed, and you were stranded in the middle of the sea.

People continued to push. Around your still figure. Between you and Tyler. It was too loud to shout his name, get his attention. Get him to come back. He wouldn't be able to hear you if you did.

You turned, looking for Josh or Mark. All you saw were faceless, shouting people, holding up phones, taking pictures and videos.

It felt like there was an entire building sitting on your chest, holding you down and sucking the breath out of your lungs. It was a fight to push air in and out. You couldn't breathe, but your chest was rising and falling rapidly. There was adrenaline, but it wasn't good this time.

Fight or flight, but you couldn't do either.

The people pressed in, pushing and pulling and shoving. Calling out.

Suddenly, a camera was shoved in your face. Someone asking about Tyler. What's he like? What's it like to be dating a famous musician?

What's it like to not know where he is or if he's ever coming back?

You can't speak, a storm taking place in your head and a anvil getting itself comfortable on your chest.

To an outsider, they'd only see your fear-filled eyes. The shake in your hands. The odd way you're looking around you, trying to figure out where you are, where to go.

"I-I," you stutter, pressure building all around you, its walls going up and up and up until the foundation's crumbling and it's all falling down.

"Tyler." It's weak and quiet.

Your knees almost give out, but you try to take a step in some direction. You have to get out.

You can feel your heart in your ears, and your breathing as if you're running a marathon.

"Tyler!" It's louder and pushed out, having been lodged in your throat. It's not loud enough.

Someone gently touches your shoulder. You don't recognize them. They tell you their name. Tyler's on their shirt.

"Are you okay?" they ask, concerned and trying to help.

You shake your head and turn away, trying to push against everyone around you.

You need out.

You need out.

You need out.

Youneedout.

You can't get out.

"TYLER!" And it's still not loud enough. You can only sink to the ground, the person from earlier lost, not even a thought, as you hug your knees to your chest.

"Y/N!" It's loud. It's worried.

"Y/N!" It's closer.

"MOVE! Y/N!" It's there.

Tyler crouches in front of you. People move away. Tears are streaming down your face, but you don't remember when you started crying.

"Y/N," Tyler repeats, but he doesn't shout this time. You don't reply, so he cautiously reaches out, grabbing your hand. "Just breathe. That's all you need to do. Breathe. Slow and deep. Just breathe." You close your eyes, breathing along with his words. "In... Out... In... Out."

In a few minutes, you've calmed down considerably, but you're still shaking. You allow Tyler to pull you up, wrap his arm around you, and lead you to the hotel, people parting so you can get through.

They take pictures.

You're never going to believe what just happened.

"Y/N! Tyler! What just happened?!" They snap another picture, and receive no reply.

Once inside, you sit down in a chair in the lobby, and Tyler once again crouches in front of you. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better," you near whisper, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. Just a minute. You'll be alright.

"I am so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Ty."

You don't open your eyes but you can hear Josh and Mark talking to the people outside. Mainly the paparazzi. It doesn't sound good.

"I'll go up to the room right now if you carry me, but otherwise we might be here for a good few minutes."

Tyler chuckles, still holding your hand. "I think I'll wait."