The Foreigner & The Pessimist (malexmale)

20. Zuuro

My heel taps impatiently against the kitchen floor as I sit on one of the barstools, waiting for Lane to return and watching my parents cut vegetables to add to the spaghetti sauce.

He's distressed. I can feel his panic running through me like a live wire attached to my brain, and it's taking every ounce of my self-control to not leap out of this chair right now and go to him.

He'll be alright. He knows what he needs. If he wanted your help, he would have asked you to come with him. I try to convince myself.

I've only ever witnessed one of his panic attacks first hand, though he's had many in the time that I've known him. Some have been mild, others more severe, but each time I've kept myself from going to him even when every fiber of my being is telling me that's what I should do, because I don't know if he wants me to or not. Would I be a help? Would I just make things worse?

I've thought about asking so many times, but I just don't know how, or when. It never seems right before, or after, or any time in between. And I definitely don't want to trigger another attack just by bringing it up, so I just haven't yet.

I tried consulting some books and articles I found on the internet, but it all just says the same things. That the person having the attack will tell you what they need – if anything – when they need it. Otherwise, just leave them be. So, that's what I've been trying to do. Just give him his space. That's why I'm sitting out here, stressing myself out, instead of getting up and going to find him like I really want to. Because if he needed me, he'd ask. Wouldn't he?

My father clears his throat, clearly trying to get my attention.

"Sorry, did you say something?" I ask, dragging myself from my thoughts of panic.

He nods. "Go to him."

I sit up a little more, eyeing him uncertainly. "What?"

I'm not really that obvious, am I?

"If your body is telling you something, you need to listen to it. Trust your instincts, Zuuro. Go to him." He tells me.

I just sit there, staring between my parents and the direction of the bathroom. "What if I make things worse?"

My mother is the one to answer this time, giving me a little encouraging smile. "You won't. He's been terrified since the moment you brought him in here. He needs you, Zuuro. Go to him."

I nod uncertainly, finally getting up from my chair and making my way towards the bathroom. I'm sure my parents are right – they have much more experience in this department than I do – but there is still a part of me that worries. Because...what if they're wrong? I really don't want to mess up, and I really don't want to make Lane's attack even worse than it already is by interfering. But...then again...maybe they're right?

When I reach the door, I pause a moment. I can hear him gasping on the other side, making my heartrate quicken with worry. It's a bad one. Possibly one of the worst he's had in a while, and again it makes me question whether I should turn back. Whether I should just leave him alone. No, he needs you, Zuuro. Knock on that door. Go inside. Help him. I take a breath and raise my arm, nocking lightly. "Lane? Can I come in?"

Without hesitation, I hear him unlock the handle – which is surprising considering I was expecting to have to beg for a while before that would happen -, but when I go to push it open, I find it won't budge. Maybe he doesn't want me coming in after all? I push a little harder, wondering if maybe the door is just stuck, and after a little finagling, I get it open just enough for me to get my head through the gap so I can see the problem. Lane is sitting in front of the door.