Anxiety

Marc Anciel did not enjoy social interactions. 

It wasn't just the typical, "What if they don't like me?" It wasn't just the judging stares, analyzing everything about him, exposing his weaknesses. It wasn't the insecurity he felt in his bones, the truth behind his eyes showing who he was to the world, the terrible truth of reality. Everything about him screamed "freak." No one even had to say anything for him to know that it was true. For him to know he just didn't belong. 

He sat away from everybody else, hidden in his corner, scribbling in his notebook. The loud bustle of people around him made him grip his pencil harder. A couple of glances told him all he needed to know. 

Freak.

Stupid.

Worthless.

Loser. 

Piece of garbage. 

Untalented. 

The colors and shapes of people moving around seemed to blur together. The sounds faded as the voice in his head grew louder. He tried to breath. You're safe. No one can hurt a freak like you here. You're safe. Stop it, you're being stupid. You're safe, you're--

The sound in his ears roared louder, his heartbeat escalating over all other sounds. He couldn't breath. This is it. He was going to die here, all alone, like a freak. What was happening to him? What was wrong with him? The tightening in his chest made it harder to breath. Unwanted tears slid down his cheeks. Great. Now he was crying, like a coward, as he was probably dying. A pair of blue eyes became visual in front of him. 

"Marc? Marc, can you hear me?"

He tried to tell him yes, he could hear him, but he was shaking to hard for nodding his head to look like he was trying to say anything. 

"Can I touch you?" Nathaniel said, gentle as can be. He shook harder. Touch him? Probably to snap  him out of it. To try and make normal a freak like him.

His pencil snapped in his hand. "I just want to move you out of the view of people," he tried to reassure him. "I'm not going to hurt you." Was he embarassing him? Guilt coursed through him. Marc let him lay a hand on his arm. He led him to a more private place, though he couldn't notice much through the screaming in his ears. Nate took his hands and breathed deeply, in and out. Marc tried to copy him, but  couldn't. No, worthless freaks don't deserve to breath. He rubbed his shoulder. "Marc. . .Marc, you're safe. You're okay. You'll be okay. I need you to breath. For me, okay? I need you to try and breath for me. You're safe, I promise. I care about you." 

He tried to relax, taking deep shuddering breaths.  Tears ran down his face as Marc's breathing became slower. Nathaniel used his thumb to brush some away, then pulled him into a hug. He relaxed into his embrace, trying to shake as little as possible. "It's okay to cry," he said softly. "It's okay."

He clutched the back of Nathaniel's jacket, his shaking turning into sobs. Nathaniel just held him tighter. "I'm sorry," Marc tried, his voice cracking as he apologized. Nathaniel pulled back, and his heart skipped a beat. 

"It's okay. I promise." They slid to the floor and Nathaniel held him in his embrace.