Philophobia (prucan because I'm a sucker)

Home

*T/W cutting and panic attacks, I've never had a panic attack so it might be a bit off but I did some research and I'm trying to get it as accurate as possible*

I dash behind the nearest corner, dragging Al along with me. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to say that?!

I shouldn't have come out tonight I knew this would happen, I knew he'd say something like that!

Holy shit this is not good this isn't good! Not in public it can't be happening in public!

I feel someone try to hug me "Mattie? Wha's wrong?"

"N- STOP!" I try to say through my tears, I shove the person away and slide to the floor.

Why am I like this? Why do I have to be like this? I could have just never even talked to him- I could have just never even dated that stupid, worthless piece of crap and I could have been normal! I could've been normal!

I never should have trusted anyone. I should have stayed home. I feel sick and I just want to go home. I never should have left my house, I never should have left the goddamn womb! I should have stayed there and become a fucking miscarriage! I was adopted anyway, only because of Al, nobody would have missed me.

I'm gonna pass out. I swear I'm gonna pass out. I can't fucking breath, why couldn't I have just stayed at home?

__________________

I wake up in my bed. My warm, comfortable, safe bed that I definitely didn't fall asleep in.

I sit up and look around. Alfred is passed out on the floor, looking like hell. How did we get here?

I grab my pillow and throw it at Alfred, efficiently waking him up. God he's such a light sleeper.

"Matt?" He croaks, his voice groggy with sleep.

"What happened last night? I don't remember dragging you home,"

Alfred looks around and rubs his eyes, frowning a bit, "I think you had a panic attack and passed out,"

The memory of the night started coming back. That guy! I gave him my number, shit!

I hastily throw the covers back, smacking Al in the face in the process. I scramble to my feet, tripping over a few hundred things before finally getting my bearings and yanking my bedside drawer open.

"Matt, dude, what are you doing?" Alfred asks from under the covers, not even trying to remove them from his face.

"Where's my phone?" I reply in panic.

"On the counter. Why?"

I completely ignore his question and run out of my bedroom, hitting my shoulder on the door.
I grab my phone off the kitchen counter and turn it on.

"Shit," there is a message from that guy at the bar.
*bold is Prussia*

Hey, it's the awesome guy from the bar

Remember me?

Name's Gilbert but you're awesome so you can call me Gil

What's ur name?

Was wondering if you're free  Sunday, we could go get coffee or something.

'"ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT!"

"Matt? What is it?!"
Alfred runs into the kitchen. And trips over a chair while he's at it.
"Remember that guy who was talking to me last night?"
Alfred sits up but stays on the floor. He gives me a confused look, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration. "Ummm... no?"
"of course you don't, you were drunk." He gave me a look like I had just punched our grandmother. "Anyway, you gave me a panic attack, he asked for my number, and I was too far away from common sense to give him a fake. NOW HE'S TEXTING ME AND THIS IS YOUR FAULT SO YOU DEAL WITH IT!"
I threw my phone at his face.
He scrambles to catch the phone for a second but eventually grabs it and starts typing something "Okay, okay here."

I look over his shoulder and almost screech.

*Italics is Canada*

Hi Gilbert. I'm Matthew, but you can call me mattie! I'd love to get coffee. We can meet in front of the bar. cool?

Sent at 1:38

"ALFRED WHAT THE HELL?!"

He shrugs and hands me my phone, " you said deal with it. I dealt with it,"

"I MEANT GET RID OF HIM SOME HOW! NOT ASK HIM OUT!" Oh my god I am so dead.

"Technically he asked you out. I just got you the date, you're welcome. I'll come over on Sunday to make sure you actually go. I'll be going home now, goodday, goodbye, and goodluck." Alfred grabs his coat and shuts the door before I can say anything.

Great! I'll pick you up at 12:30.

I need to cut.

I run to the bathroom and grab the razor blade from the cabinet. I quickly drag it across my skin and sigh in relief. I immediately feel calmer. I sink to the floor and pull the razor across my wrist again and again and again, until I have a total of eight cuts.

I finally stand to rinse off the blade and wrap my wrist.

God why does Alfred have to be such an ass?

*YO! Back at ya with a new chapter! I know this took a while and it's kinda shit but I've been mostly focusing on my art for the past month or so. Speaking of which the chapter cover is actually my art this time! It's not the best but I'm super proud of it because a lot of work went in. My insta is also on there so pls follow.  Until next time children!*