s,,,shoutout to sushi-bones/tinyjvpiter bc their drawing relating to "Prompt 7: Caring" inspired this,,, two hours of writing,,,
rip ed he can't catch a fuckin break
TW: Blood, s#lf-h#rm, panic attack, eddy is bad to himself :(((
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The frigid October air hit his skin hard. He's covered heavily, with a blue coat on, on top of his black hoodie along with usual school wear.
He's cold where he's cold. He's too hot where it's too hot.
He hates it.
He fumbles with the keys of his car, trying and failing to really focus on the present. He feels like he's swimming in an abyss in his mind. He vaguely knows he can't drive like this. He's under the influence, almost. The endorphins make him feel drunk.
He gulps and feels himself relax, just a little, in his mom van. He still shivers lightly, the car isn't warm, but the chilling wind isn't biting at his face and forearms. He can relax, if only a little bit. He doesn't have to worry about his cronies smelling the heavy iron, or - even worse - sees droplets of blood run down to his hands.
… He really needs to buy some black gloves.
He closes his eyes and leans his chair back. The calmness of his mind is slowly going away, leaving behind sluggishness and daze.
He doesn't know how long he is there, but when he wakes up, it's still light out and Barry is knocking on the front window. Edward blinks his eyes open, before getting up. His arms feel crusty and his school jacket is unpleasantly moist underneath all the clothing.
He turns on the car enough for the battery to wake up, before rolling down the window, just slightly. It's nice and warm in the car.
The look of worry is clear on Barry's face. "You okay, Ed?" He asked. Edward doesn't know what to say in response. A beat of silence ends up being Edward's response.
A sigh comes from Barry. "Unlock the door. There's no one in the parking lot."
Edward blinks awkwardly, his mind shifting the gears as he tries to process what's being said. Wordlessly, he unlocks the doors, rolling up the window as Barry goes to the passenger side. Barry locks the door once he seats himself at the passenger side. He has a small backpack on, Edward noted.
"I noticed you were acting off earlier today," Barry said. "In biology I noticed you weren't even focusing. Did you have another attack?"
Edward swims through layers of fuzz to process the words. His tongue feels like lead. "Yeah."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Barry asked, moving his backpack to his lap, unzipping it. Edward sees him pull out an all-too-familiar, nondescript bag that he knows contains medical supplies.
Edward's mind is blank. "I don't know what started it." He dislikes how hoarse he sounds. "I was just - in the bathroom when I felt weird, one though came up, I started- started to-" Edward could feel the panic come up, in waves.
"Shh, hush, there's no need to justify me doing this." Barry mentions. "I need you to strip.
Edward blinked, feeling his face heat up, taking it the wrong way. "St-strip? I only did it on my ar-"
"Your tops, silly," Barry defined.
Feeling weirdly disappointed, Edward unzips his coat and tosses it in the backseat, then his black hoodie. The smell of iron hit his nose so hard he felt like sneezing. Barry's own nose scrunched, but his eyes were full of concern.
