Denki Kaminari

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Microscopic shivers raced down your spine - a sure sign of an oncoming panic attack. These happened regularly, although never in the midst of a class. The thought alone spurred the uncomfortable feeling on. You sat, trying to appear calm, at least externally. If nothing else, you didn't wish to frighten some of your more empathic classmates. The guilt would forever weigh heavy on your chest, crushing your rib-cage and puncturing your heart. As the descent into mad anxiety continued, worsening every second, you couldn't manage to steady your breathing; they were coming out in ragged pants, deep and desperate. 

A few stray tears gave moisture to your cheeks. Your heart-rate increased to a dangerous level, to the point where a heart-attack seemed inevitable. Mr Aizawa was droning on about something or another, yet you just couldn't concentrate. With blurry vision and a scratchy throat, all you wanted to do was curl up into a tiny, tiny ball, and cry yourself into a slumber. This was proving to be the worst onset of an attack, in the worst possible scenario. At least in a battle situation, you could probably snap your poor mind back into the grip of reality - you would have to.

However, locked in a chair, trapped by a desk, and surrounded by nineteen other students, there wasn't exactly anywhere to run. You couldn't hide, you most definitely couldn't escape, and screaming wasn't a viable option. Except, that was all you wanted - to scream, to cry, to be in total isolation. This environment, rather than providing you with a sense of security, was giving you extreme claustrophobia. Subconsciously, you removed one of your hands from on the desk, using it to grip your shirt, right over your heart. It trembled, becoming wetter with every cascading tear. Soon, you were struggling to restrain your feeble voice. You sounded so very pathetic, breaking down over something you couldn't control. Still, it was an all-consuming thought, a prolonged feeling. You needed a time-out, you needed space and possibly a gentle embrace from a loved one.

Just as the chords in your throat burst apart, a hand pierced the air, forcing the particles to swim in different directions. Thankfully, since the windows were (mercifully) open, a delightful, cold breeze wafted in your direction. It did little to calm your nerves, but it served a short purpose. The electric blonde sat before you, straight-backed and as moronic as always, had apparently been turning around every so often, just to check on your progress. He had noticed a particularly distressed expression settle on your features, but he hadn't wanted to make a fuss so early on. Instead he waited, biding his time.

"Mr Aizawa, can I take (Y/n) to the infirmary?" He asked, both startling and embarrassing you.

Your teacher, who had silently acknowledged your plight, agreed, and before you even knew what was happening, you were being dragged away from your classroom. Hand-in-hand, the two of you walked towards your destination. You were unsure, but you trusted this boy, so much more than perhaps you should have. Following, you thanked the heavens for this saving grace - your guardian angel. You were still about to yell, and your legs began buckling, but now you weren't in that suffocating atmosphere. A squeaky "Thank you" attempted to pass through your lips, although it was far too quiet for him to hear. His grip on your hand tightened. Your cheeks gradually began to redden. Finally, he halted.

Turning to you with a worried expression, he asked, "Another panic attack?"

You gasped, absolutely perplexed. "...Y-You knew...?" Getting that out was a massive struggle, as your breaths were still fragmented. Your mind just couldn't fathom how he knew this. He didn't often pay close attention to you, did he? Obviously he did, but before now, that was a complete mystery to you.

"Yeah..." He trailed off, scratching at his chin nervously. "You tend to watch the people you like really intently, right?"

Of course that was true. "...M-Me?!"

[Word Count: 669]

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