Astraphobia {Dreamnotfound AU}

5. Soldier On

TW ~ minor panic ~ TW

George's POV

"I don't want you to leave," I mumble, hugging my extra pillow close to my chest as I watch Clay from my laid down position in bed, slipping on a t-shirt. He turns around and looks at me, head tilted slightly sideways and a guilty look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I have to, have you met Jared?" he says, trying to make a joke out of it.

"Of course I've met Jared," I mutter back, pressing my face into the pillow again, trying not to cry at the thought of him leaving me alone.

"He'll kick my ass if I don't show up this session, he might be ancient but I bet he could beat me in a fist fight." He attempts to lighten the situation, but I don't reciprocate his chuckle. I just turn my body to face away from him, an action he responds to with a sigh, before sitting down next to me and placing his hand on my waist. "Hey, look at me," he says, pulling on my shoulder slightly. I reluctantly turn my head to face him, and he plants a gentle kiss against my lips. "I'll be back before you know it," he whispers, brushing the back of his hand against my cheek. I nod, disapproval clearly visible on my face as he gets up and leaves my room. I press the pillow further into my face.

Two nights ago was, for lack of a better term, a total disaster. After Clay told me what the letters and notes were about, I tried to play it cool, I pretended to be over it to assure him. He didn't quite believe me, but I convinced him I was fine, even though I felt nauseous and a headache started taunting me. I watched the hours tick away as he put on some random show which he would occasionally giggle at. Eventually, he just fell asleep, so I turned the tv off and sprinted towards the bathroom.

He didn't notice I spent an hour and a half in there, he was fast asleep while I vomited myself through another panic attack. I didn't want him to worry. I know he would have stressed until his eyes popped out of their sockets if he knew how badly his words had affected me. I didn't want him to keep apologizing, and I didn't want to make him feel worse, so I soldiered on. As far as you can call banging your head against the tile wall 'soldiering on'.

Of course, today happens to be one of the few days he has therapy. The exact day I just want to lie down with him in silence, not think about things and relax, he has to leave. Yesterday I at least had his small-talk to break my thought patterns, keeping me from thinking the things he would never agree with, but now? I'm alone, left to my own devices, forced to let the thoughts seep through and confront me with what I've desperately been trying to avoid.

I know what I'm supposed to do in moments like this. I'm supposed to ask my mom for help, or distract myself, or even text Eric when I feel like I'm in crisis and can't deal with it on my own. But I don't. I let it consume me.

I sit up, hugging my legs to my chest as I feel my breathing speeding up. I know I need to calm down before I fall too far, but I can't stop myself from it. The anxiety washes over me like a wave. No, maybe more like a tsunami.

This was coming, all along, even before we crossed the wall back to safety. It's been etched deep into my soul, and it was bound to come out at some point.

I'm trying to trace back where I changed, where my personality made the flip. Was it when I stabbed Technoblade? Or was it even before that? Where did I find the idea I need to be braver than I used to be? In reality, it doesn't matter. I changed, that's all that's important.

I find myself subconsciously pacing back and forth in my room, my eyes darting between my bag and my window. All I have to do is leave.

I need protect him, and there's only one way.