Possessive (Completed)

PANIC

      Simon brushed a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling in the dark living room of Shea's house. His eyes were as large as saucers, and he reached up to touch his swollen lip. He'd done a bad thing, a very bad thing, and was painfully aware of the new boy who was talking to Shea in the living room.

     How could I do that?

     Why did I do that?

     What is wrong with me?

     Simon's brain buzzed in a million directions flying about as if he opened his mouth his thoughts would come pouring out like a waterfall. Simon was also considerably worried that if he opened his mouth, words wouldn't be the only thing to come out. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and his stomach ached terribly. Throwing up was something he wished to avoid at that moment, and so he resolved to sneak out for some fresh air.

     "Shea?" Simon called to Shea in the kitchen, "I'm going out for some air." Simon dashed out the backdoor so he could avoid the two boys in the kitchen, and out into the snowy garden without a simple goodbye.

     oh my gosh

    Simon sat on a bench that Shea's family had in the garden, and tucked his head between his legs to try and breathe as steadily as possible. 

    what the hell was I thinking

    Simon's brain turned to the moments leading up to his first ever kiss.

     "I'm going to take charge of my life." An empowered Simon called out to Shea in his mind. Simon cringed, and tugged at the front of his hair.

     how could I say that to him?

    "Dear God." Simon clasped his hands together in prayer. "Am I a whore?" 

     He gripped the side of the bench until his knuckles turned white, and tucked his legs to his chest, laying his head on his knees. "I'm a whore. I'm a whore. I'm a whore. I kissed a boy. I'm a whore." Simon began repeating quietly to himself. 

     He couldn't imagine what had given him such confidence to speak out of term in front of Shea. He couldn't comprehend what force had compelled him to kiss the other boy. He couldn't see how he had touched another in that intimate way. "I'm going to hell." Simon cried hopelessly. "I am going to burn in hell." 

     Simon wasn't wearing a coat, nor had he thought to put on his shoes, and he was sat on an ice cold bench with the chill of the air crushing his oblivious body. His breathing was jagged, and his exhales were so cold they stopped even appearing as smoke in the air in front of him. Underneath his sweater Simon's pale skin was red and broken out in hives, as his tears streamed down the front of his face. He wasn't even aware of the bodily stress he was under in the situation, his mind was so jumbled. Simon's heart raced in his body pumping faster than the blood could travel throughout his body, but his head was filled with a dread for the future. Simon feared for his life in his home with his brother, and for his friendship with Kit, and for what his parents would think if they found out. Part of him was even convinced his father had only left due to foresight for that very moment. 

     "Simon?" A voice called. "Simon! Oh my God." A hand grabbed at his. "Simon your hands are ice. You're not wearing a coat, you're going to get sick!"

     "What is it?" A second voice came out into the garden.

     "I think he's having a panic attack. Simon? Can you hear me." 

     "Holy shit." 

     "Simon! Look at me. Simon, are you there?"

     Simon felt as if his entire body was wrapped in a thin white veil. He felt like he was blowing away in the wind, the dread had slowed down, and now he just wanted to blow away. The fear had swallowed him into a deep pit of despair. 

      "Call his brother. I've got to get him home" One of the voices demanded. A moment later Simon felt his body hoisted off the bench. He was lifted into a car, and driven to a smallish model home. Then he half walked, but was half carried to a the door of the house.

     "What happened? What did you do to him?" A third voice accused the first voice. Simon felt his body be handed to a new person, and was escorted to a couch where he was sat down. A blurry face knelt in front of him.

     "Simon. This is Liam, your brother. Can you hear me?" Simon stared blankly for a moment, until the handsome face of his brother came into view. His brother was clearly half asleep in pajamas, with his blonde hair messy and unkempt, and his eyes betrayed deep worry.

     "Yes." Simon struggled to speak. "I'm alright. I'm alright..." Liam pulled him into a tight hug, and laid his head on his shoulder. Simon sat still, too weak to hold back. "I'm sorry I bothered you..."

     "You didn't bother me." Liam assured. "You could never bother me." Liam laid Simon's head back on the couch softly. "Try and get some sleep." Liam turned to Shea. "What happened?" He whispered harshly after they left the room.

     "I don't know. One minute he was fine, then he went out for some air, and didn't come back, so I went to check on him, and I found him in that awful state.." Shea paused. "I didn't know Simon suffered form panic attacks."

     "Yeah? There's a lot of stuff yo don't know, so next time just stay out of it." Liam stated firmly, then gestured to the door, and Shea left with his tail between his legs. Shea had know Simon's brother was scary, but he wasn't aware of the extent. He also was aware Simon had bad anxiety, and was convinced he'd been the reason for the outburst.