Another World | ✔️

Chapter Five

Trigger Warnings
Anxiety
Panic Attack
Depression
Suicide

🌳 🌳 🌳

I quietly follow Connor upstairs. My breath is shaky now, and a pain continues to grow in my chest. I must have been clenching it, because when we get to his room, Connor turns to look at me with a confused, worried expression. "Are you having a heart attack or something, dude? You look like a ghost."

I shake my head. "An-anxiety."

My legs are trembling and cold sweat drips down my face. Already, the world looks blurry and sounds fuzzy, but I can feel a hand on my shoulder. "Sit down. You look like you're about to pass out."

That's because I am.

I feel like my heart might beat out of my chest. I don't even care anymore where I am. Tears start rolling down my cheeks and I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, Connor is in front of me, looking into them. "Just breathe," he says. "Slow and steady. You're okay."

I listen, trying my best to steady my ragged breathing. I feel like I'm drowning and I can't catch my breath. My chest still feels tight and my throat is hot and dry. What seems like hours pass, but the sensation finally starts to fade away. Through a pounding headache, my vision starts to clear. Connor is still there, and I realize he is holding onto my hands with his.

"There you go. . ."

"S-sorry. . ."

"No, I get it," he says. "Never has one myself but it looked like the feeling is similar so thought it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Wh-what?"

As Connor let's go and backs away, I see a new glint in his eyes. Already, I'm wondering why he cared to try to help. It doesn't make sense for someone like him to care about someone like me. We're barely friends.

"I just sometimes have these thoughts come and. . . I feel like I lose control. It's hard to pull out, but that usually helps."

I close my eyes for a minute, remembering Connor's reaction yesterday when I saw the pills fall from his pocket. I'm still shaking, and I'm not sure it's healthy for me to say what I am about to say, but I feel like I must. What if he helped me because he wants me to help him?

"You were going to kill yourself," I whisper. "Weren't you?"

At first, Connor doesn't reply. He looks shocked that I dared ask him such an intrusive question, but the look soon fades. I see his lips quiver, and a single tear streams down his face. "I. . . I. . ."

My legs still trembling, I stand up. It's a horrible sight. He closes his eyes eyes as his face grows wet. I see him draw his hands up and he looks at them for a moment before burying his face in them. Reluctantly, I move forward and pull him closer in a hug. Despite my own trembling, I can feel him shaking.

"I have no reason to be here. . ." he cries. It seems he is accepting of the gesture, he doesn't pull away, but he doesn't move his hands away from his face.

I don't know what to do. What to say.

"Please. . . Don't think like that. . ."

"No one would care. . ." he counters quietly. "No one would notice. . ."

"Th-that's not true. Your parents would. Zoe would. I-I would."

"They don't care. None of them do," he mutters, finally lowering his hands and looking at me again. "And you don't even know me. You probably don't want to know me. Not now if you ever did. I'm a broken mess. It's why I have no one. It's why no one wants me as a friend."

"Connor. . . That's not true. . ."

Again, he falls silent. I start to let go, thinking maybe he needs space, but he holds on tightly now, burying his face in my shoulder. He stays like that for several minutes before letting go and pulling away. He's stopped crying now, but his eyes are red and puffy. I can see hurt shimmering in them. How long had he felt this way without telling anyone?

"Sorry," he sniffles. "I'm normally not like this I just. . . I have no one. . ."

"Well, you do now," I say, giving him a weak smile. "Just please don't try it. It's not worth it."

"I can't make any promises," he answers quietly. "But I'll try, I guess."

"Thank you," I breathe. I'm not confident in his reply, but it's something. Maybe this would help. Maybe all he needed was to talk to someone.

"Don't thank me," he mutters. "I. . . I guess I should thank you. You shouldn't worry about me. You shouldn't waste your breath on me. . ."

"It's not a waste if it helps, Connor," I say quietly. "Besides, if we're— if we're going to be friends. . ." There's a hint of a question in my voice, and I look to Connor for a reply, still uncertain how he feels. What if he doesn't really want me as a friend and he's just trying to be nice?

Connor nods slightly. "I don't know why anyone would want me as a friend but I guess. . ."

"Well, I think I do want that. I think I do want you as a friend. If. . . If we could try that?"

"I don't see why not."

"Okay then. Let's try that. . ."