by Mousen » 03/13/2018 9:02 PM
((Just to let you know, this RP post contains pretty detailed descriptions of a panic attack.))
Atlas looked up at him, half falling asleep, and closed his own eyes. He didn't move until he was nudged. He walked with Rexus up the stairs. He felt fine in a forced sort of way, like the physical tiredness was stretching him thin enough to function, but not enough to do anything else. It was the picky sort of feeling that made him want to reflect on what had happened. A thread to unravel.
He brushed his teeth, kissed Rexus goodnight and tried to put it to the back of his mind. He dozed in patches of ten minutes, interspersed by images, vague memories of his mother. He imagined her as he knew her, dark hair hung about her, skirts hitched up as she walked with an inhuman grace across the dry soil. He imagined her curses spat on the ground. He thought about the fact he hadn't dared unpack yet and what that said about him. He thought about Rexus crying into him on the first night. He thought about being scared to die. He thought about wanting to die.
He got out of bed, whispering something about the bathroom to Rexus's half asleep form. His voice didn't shake, he was careful. He walked down the hall, evenly, a hand clamped over his mouth, but the pressure was building in his chest. It hit in waves, each time taking more from him. He shut the bathroom door with a small click. The trick was to do this without causing any permament damage, and without waking Rexus.
He sat on the edge of the bathtub again, and then hit his hand against the tiled wall. The sound, he hoped, would be muffled. He did it again, and again, until the side of his fist had gone numb and he was nursing tingly shocks of pain through his fingers. The sobbing started, and he pressed a hand to his side, tried to steady himself, but it hurt. He tried to force air into his lungs, it didn't want to stay, there wasn't enough of it. He pulled at his hair, wrapping it around his fingers and tugging, hard.
He tried desperately to not make a sound, but he couldn't bear it with his injuries. The shuddering, silent kind of meltdown was the one he preferred, the one he'd been aiming for, but he'd known it would be unlikely.
It was just everything. He'd felt nothing and nothing for months, then the physical and emotional blows had come and gone without any time to process them. He was such a mess, but it was too much. He'd tried and tried to hold it back, and he was so useless. He'd hated the person that had left Rexus so thoroughly it'd been difficult to function and the person that had come back to him wasn't much better. He hated himself for feeling so worthless, for the trouble he brought with him, again, and again, and again. He just wanted to stop.
There was a soft knock at the door.
"A few minutes." He sounded terrible.
The knock was inistent.
Atlas was hit with another wave of crushing, desperate panic. He couldn't get the words out. He needed to be left alone. He couldn't be seen like this, he didn't want to be seen like this. Couldnt let Rexus see him like this. Couldn't let Rexus be upset by this.
He spluttered, coughing, his small frame shook and a keening whine of pain escaped him.
He stepped towards the door, adding his weight to the lock. "I need to get my head together. Please. It's not--" Get the words out, damn you. "It's not you."
His breaths were too shallow to be of any use to him. He couldn't get himself under control. Stupid. "If-If you force the lock you'll--" Damn. Damn. Damn. "o-open the door into me."
"Stay there, please," he begged. He slipped down onto the bathroom floor.
No. No. Not good. "Wait. St-stay." Atlas realised he was liable to send Rexus into pieces. Or else, force him to use his voice, already damaged from the events of the past two weeks. He couldn't bear another incident like the one in the kitchen. He leant his head against the door and gave a small, hiccophing whine of defeat. He shifted, slowly, painfully away from the door, reaching to move the bolt away from the door. He pulled it open a fraction.
We’re all hysterical & going nowhere together.
C’mon rapture. Let’s go bedazzling.
Nothing gets futured without its own spitshine
& I’m already not not not not not not miraculous.