Larry sick fics

Fetus Niall panic attack

Warning for description/talk of panic attacks. Warning for swears.

                              

It's his - their second night  in the x factor house and Niall's lying stiffly in bed, petrified. As  carefree as he is - and he really is - Niall's got a few neuroses.  Claustrophobia is one, fear of the dark is another. He's never been one  to do things by halves (well, apart from school work) either, so they're  both fairly debilitating.

He's been lucky up until now, and he knows it - boot camp and judges'  houses happened without incident, thanks partially to the constant  activity and filming, mostly to the medication his mum had insisted he  take with him. Last night was fine, and for that he's grateful. His - their  - first day had been a blur of celebration, and they'd fallen asleep  fully clothed in the living room, lights on and music still pounding.

But it's day two, and reality has set in. There are songs to  practice, routines to perfect and cameras to perform to and he and his  band members (and it still feels strange to think that. He's in a band) have been instructed to get a decent night's sleep, a direction they've obeyed only too readily after their exhausting day. 

He hadn't expected to be put in a group, never really even  entertained the idea of getting through to the live shows. It hadn't  occurred to him when he sent off his application that he might end up  rooming with other finalists, or about what he would do if that  happened.

Now he's sharing with four other boys (roughly) his age and call him  an idiot, but he doesn't want them knowing what a loser he is, because  what seventeen year old boy is scared of the dark? None of the others  are, that's for sure. They'd fallen asleep almost as soon as Liam turned  out the light, muttered goodnights giving way to quiet breathing. All except Niall.

It was sort of ok at first, light peeking in from under the door  because some of the other contestants were still up. He'd tricked  himself into thinking it might be alright, hadn't wanted to turn on a  light in case it woke one of the others and he had to explain. Now he  realises what an idiot he's been.

The house is dark and quiet - he can hardly see his hand if he sticks  it in front of his face, and all he hears are gusty breaths and  silence, silence. He knows there's nothing there, he knows.

But he's not sure.

He's got his eyes closed because he can't stand staring into that fucking abyss and he doesn't know what's moving in the blackness but something is, something definitely is and he can't help it, his eyes snap open.

His sheets are fisted close to his chest, feeble protection but it's  all he's got and he wants to curl up under the covers but it's worse to  not be able to see what's moving around the room, worse to have his back  exposed.

He can't move, anyway.

He doesn't want the shock of whatever's there suddenly appearing  before him. He'd rather not see it coming. He closes his eyes again.  Imagining what's happening is worse. He snaps them open.

There's an area of blackness that's denser somehow and it's growing or it's moving and fuck fuck fuck.

He can't breathe.

His chest seizes and he tries to calm down, tries to inhale. You're fine, there's nothing - you're ok, deep breaths, deep breaths.

He's trying to keep it together, but he never was very good at those  anxiety techniques the doctor taught him and he can feel his fingers and  toes starting to tingle and that sends another wave of panic crashing  down on him because this can't happen now, not here please.