A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 16

Nobody said anything for a moment.

As a matter of fact it felt like time had stopped.

It also felt like somebody had grabbed my guts and were tearing and squeezing.

And somehow, at the worst moment possible, I realised that this pain wasn't because Panic! was dissolving. Nor was it because it seemed I'd lost my friendship with Brendon for the second time. It was for the simple fact that he wouldn't be around anymore, for the fact that I hadn't gotten the time I'd needed to face my feelings for him.

I realised in that moment that if Brendon wasn't around it would be like missing a part of myself. Not to sound cheesy, but that part would probably be my heart. And somehow I'd never noticed giving it to him, but I must have because otherwise how the fuck could he be walking away with it?

I also think that I forgot how to breathe in that moment. I started hyperventilating instead, the blood rushing from my head as my still weak body was rendered incapable of keeping up with the shocked realisations of my mind.

I let my head fell onto the table; I simply didn't have the energy to hold it up anymore.

Somehow, while the confused, painful thoughts and feelings and realisations ran through my mind, I still managed to see flashes of what was going on around me.

Brendon had walked out the door of the bus.

Pete was on his phone, sounding angry.

Brent looked shocked but also angry. The anger was directed at me.

Spencer, Spencer looked torn, but then strode to my side. He lifted my head off the table, slapping me roughly just like he had after the pill-incident. "Fucking breathe, Ryan," he ordered harshly.

I tried, I really did, but my body wasn't obeying me any more.

Who the hell knew that something psychological could turn into this?

He let me go a while later, apparently figuring that perhaps it was easier for me to breathe on the table or something.

I don't know how long I was lying on that table, just struggling to get a proper mouthful of air, but it was until somebody tore me off it, placed me on my own two feet and helped me keep standing.

"Alright, Ry," Matt muttered. "Breathe with me. Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale..."

He kept saying the pattern for a while and I struggled to follow it, didn't manage and started heaving again.

"Shit, Ryan!" he said harshly. "You want to fix this, right? You can't fix it from the hospital and you're going right back there in a minute if you don't get a fucking grip!" He paused slightly, then picked his pattern back up. "Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale..."

This time I managed to pick it up even as dizziness tore through me and I for a moment thought I was about to hurl.

Finally I got complete control of my breathing and Matt stopped dictating it. Instead he eased me back down on the chair and sent me a serious look. "I'll go talk to Brendon," he replied.

I shook my head. "I should do that."

"Ryan, Brendon's about ready to kill you," Spencer informed me drily. "You won't be able to talk to him right now."

"He's right," Matt concurred.

"He's bound to be pissed at you too," I objected.

"Not nearly as much." He sent me an unhappy, sarcastic grin. "I'm bigger than him, though. You're not. And I know the whole story. The others..." He gesticulated to the other three people present in the lounge. "...Don't." He sent me a concerned look. "Spencer'll look after you for a while alright? I'll be back in a few."