That's What Makes Us The Foo Fighters (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 6- I'm Sorry You Had To See That

One down, one to go. We'd just finished our second last Foo Fighters show of this tour, and we were fucking tired. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade the experiences I've had as a musician for the world, but sometimes you get a little burnt out. Not to mention the insane excitement I was feeling toward beginning the moving process with Taylor.

Walking backstage again, a heavy sheen on our skin, both from excitement and sweating it out up there. We grab out stuff, ready to head back to the hotel.

*Taylor's point of view*

As Dave and I enter our hotel room, a sudden wave of emotion washes over me and knocks me to the ground, sobbing.

"T? Oh my god, what happened man?"

I couldn't answer, all I could do was cry as Dave lowered himself to the ground and sat beside me. I realised he was giving me space, letting me collect myself before asking anything more, but still showing he was there. I appreciated that.
It hit me that Dave didn't know if I was having a panic attack or not, and if I'm being honest, I didn't know either. I tried to control my breathing, but it came in quick gasps, and I could feel my chest constricting.

I vaguely feel Dave take my hand and place it on his chest.

"Feel my breaths, man. Try to breathe like that." I felt his chest rise and fall and attempted to do the same with mine, but to no avail. I kept gasping and choking.

"Take it easy, I'm right here. Keep breathing, you got this. I love you." Dave kept muttering word of encouragement and began gently rubbing my back.

I felt shoulders drop, and all the tension leave my body. I took deep, gulping breaths of air and felt the fuzziness in my brain fade. My body went limp with complete exhaustion, landing in Dave's lap and feeling silent tears roll down my face. He stroked my hair softly, still whispering sweet nothings.

After a little while, Dave spoke up.

"Can you tell me what just happened? No judgment, I swear. I just want to help you."

"Jesus. Fuck." I whisper hoarsely. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"No, don't apologise." He takes my hand and lies down next to me.

"I haven't had a panic attack that bad in a long fuckin' time."

"I didn't know you had panic attacks." Dave says gently.

"They started a couple years ago. When I... you know." I couldn't even say it.

"That's understandable. Is there anything I should have done differently to help you through that?"

"Fuck. I don't deserve you. You were perfect, man. That's exactly what you should have done." I sigh.

"My sister used to get pretty bad panic attacks, and sometimes mum was working and I had to step in. So I guess I have experience? I don't want to sound like that guy, but I can help you."

"Thank you. I feel a lot better."

"Anytime, baby." Dave giggles suddenly. "You know what I just realised?"

"Huh?"

"We're full on dating and shit, I mean we fucked and everything, and we still call each other 'dude' and 'man'." He laughs.

"You're right." I join in the soft laughter. "I guess I just don't feel the need to call you 'honey' or whatever. We're not really those kind of people."

"Agreed. I might call you 'baby' sometimes though."

"Alright, baby." I mock him.

"Fuck off, Hawkins." Dave laughs and jumps up from the floor. "Come on, it's late. Let's go to bed."