Remembering Taylor Mason (Rewritten, 2020)

Chapter Eleven: Liam

***MILD TRIGGER WARNING BREIF DESCRIPTION OF an ANXIETY ATTACK **

I wake to the sensation of water hitting my face in consistent drops.
"What the-" I jolt upright and jerk around, squinting my eyes.
"Hey Liam," says someone from directly above me.
Still groggy from my nap, I think for a second, it might be Taylor, visiting me from the grave. But then I hear a full, deep, sly laugh that can only belong to one person; My brother, Ben.
I see him standing above me with a glass of water overturned. He keeps laughing as I jump up and throw my arms around him. We're only two years apart and were so close growing up. He'd gone off to a college seven hours from here this past year, and it almost broke me. Taylor was there to get me through it, though. He was the perfect stand-in for Ben. We'd always run the track and play ball. The best part was, Taylor's not athletic in the least... wasn't I mean; He was no threat to my abilities at all.
"What're you doing here, bro?" I ask, slapping him on the back.
"Got a week off work and a gap between my summer courses," he answers, leaning back on my dresser. "Thought I'd swing by for a few days. See what all damage my little bro and I can create."
"Well, glad to see ya, Benny Boy," I say, not even cringing at my own cheesiness. Ben makes things lively. That's exactly what I need right now.
"But seriously man, are you alright?" he asks, placing his hand in my shoulder. "I'm real sorry to hear 'bout you're buddy."
"It is what it is," I shrug. What else is there to say?
"Well, we are gonna get up to so much shit these next few days," he says, wrapping my in a headlock. "Just you wait."
I try to break free of his hold, but he just tightens his grip.
"Come on, give it some actual effort, you weakling," he jokes.
—
The next day, Ben takes me to a Pro baseball game.
I'm feeling great. Wind in my hair, sun beating down on me, people cheering, and laughing and talking. Having a real ball. I breathe baseball. Always have, always will; Watching this game— this game I love, with my brother, whom I haven't seen in nearly a whole year, nothing could be better.

But suddenly, I feel the walls closing in on me again, and I struggle to regulate my breathing. My heart pounds in my chest, flopping around like a fish out of water. My body numbs real quick, and before I know it, I'm no longer standing; I'm face down on the concrete of the stands; crying, blood dripping from my nose, my lungs begging for air. People are still cheering, laughing, talking, cheering laughing, talking, cheering, laughing, talking, and the noise is all I can hear, all I can think of. I feel a hand gently cradling my head and flipping me onto my back.
"Liam! Liam, are you alright buddy?" Ben says, his voice echoing like it's 100 miles away.
Taylor always used to say when I had these attacks, that it reminded him that even the cool kids had shit to deal with.
And then he'd help me off the ground and sing something gentle while I got control back.
What I'd do to hear that again.
"Liam! I need you to answer me, man. Come on, I know you can hear me. What can I do? What do you need?" Ben asks, as more people crowd around.
"Someone call 911," a lady says, turning to her husband.
"No, no," Ben says, blocking everyone and everything he can from me. "He has a panic disorder. He'll be ok, he just needs time."
"Liam, buddy, what do you need?" Ben asks again, leaning over me, his green eyes, twinned to my own, pleading.
"I-I need Taylor!" I cry out, as I start to come out of my attack. "I really, really, need him."