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The next morning, Harry was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's, waiting to be called back. Josh sat to the side of him, and he looked pretty worse for wear, considering the fact that he'd had to hold a bowl under Harry's head each time the younger woke up gagging the night before.

"I'm not a kid, I can go back in there alone." Harry mumbled, exhaustedly. He was leaning his head on Josh's shoulder so that he wouldn't collapse entirely.

"If you go back in there alone, you're going to skip over everything and make it sound less severe than it actually is. I'm not stupid, Harry." Josh said. "I'm the one whose been noticing everything that's been going on, day and night, so it only makes sense that I go back there to help you explain things."

Before Harry could argue, a nurse stepped into the waiting room and called him back in. Harry stood up, sighing, as Josh walked through the hallway with him. It was bad enough that Josh was going to be given the fine details of Harry's predicament, but he was also going to figure out that the younger had blatantly lied to him about how he'd been doing.

"Your blood pressure is a little high," Said the nurse, looking down at her clipboard. "But that's probably just due to nerves. And your heart rate is also pretty high. I'd say you just have a little case of white coat syndrome, which is okay. The doctor will be in when he's ready."

Harry was thankful to be seeing a different doctor than he had for his physical. She had been adamant about him getting rest and would probably push for him to put his health first. When the doctor finally stepped into the room, Josh looked concerningly prepared.

"So..." The doctor began as he flipped through the pages of his folder. "You're here for anxiety?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry said, shrugging. "It's gotten pretty bad over the past few weeks."

"In what ways? Have you been experiencing panic attacks, or is it just constant anxiety?"

"Panic attacks. Well, and constant anxiety, I guess."

Josh immediately butted in. "He had something bad happen in his family, and ever since, he hasn't been the same. He can't eat anymore and he throws up a lot. He'll wake up in the middle of the night having panic attacks. He's been losing weight, too, and he acts differently. He gets angry more easily. Oh, and I think he dissociated one time."

"I see... so, Harry, you're taking ten milligrams of Buspirone as and when needed? Is that all?" Harry nodded. "Okay, I think it's time to switch to a more long term medication that will help you between panic attacks. It'll probably take a while to start working, but it's more practical and effective."

"I generally prescribe Zoloft to patients who haven't tried a wide array of medications. It may not work for you, and if it doesn't, just come back in and we can switch it out for something else."

"Will he still be taking the other meds?" Josh chimed in, after turning over the information in his head.

"Yes. Take the Zoloft once a day, I recommend in the morning, and take the Buspirone one to three times per day as needed. Also, if you notice patterns in your anxiety, it's good to schedule your days around them. So, for example, if you have anxiety in the mornings, maybe start waking up at the same time every day and going for a walk."

"He keeps throwing up. Do you know why that is?" Josh spoke again, as Harry sat in silence.

"Adrenaline slows digestion, and oftentimes people experience nausea and vomiting during anxiety attacks, as well as a loss of appetite throughout the day. It's normal, and it doesn't mean there's anything physically wrong with you. I suggest taking it easy, starting a healthy routine, and just waiting for the medication to make a difference. It's also good to talk to people when you feel bad, because holding it all in is only going to make it worse. I suggest maybe seeing a therapist or talking to people you can trust."

***

Harry left the building feeling just as discouraged as when he had entered it. Josh was already calling the boys and explaining the situation to them, and all Harry wanted was to escape. Why did everything have to be so complicated? When would his mind drop this act and sort everything out?

Everything fell downhill from there (at least from Harry's perspective). He had sat in the living room with everyone, and they practically forced him into stepping back from Youtube 'whether he liked it or not' because his 'health was at risk'. He thought it was complete bullshit, but this was an argument he knew he wasn't going to end up winning.

His roommates stopped allowing him to stay out past 11pm, and they held the responsibility of making sure he was in bed by midnight. His meals were monitored, as well as the time and frequency he took his medications.

And he didn't feel any better.

"You're not helping me. You're wasting your time." Harry had grumbled at the table one morning, picking at his eggs.

"We're keeping you from collapsing. Maybe if you would take care of yourself, this wouldn't be necessary." Simon had shot back.

It was depressing, sitting inside, watching the other boys go through their days and knowing that he wouldn't be able to join them. He even envied them when they trudged into the house at night, exhausted from hours of filming. The world started to seem so much smaller and bleaker, and life started to feel much less worth living.

There had been one day where he couldn't stop his nerves. He walked so much that he spent hours outside and almost passed out when he returned. The other boys had tried to get him to eat, but he only refused, locking himself in his bedroom and crying. There was really no way out.

He knew he should have been grateful to the guys for caring about him, but everything was just too much for him to handle. He felt so alone. The days morphed together into giant clumps of anxiety, alternating between panic attacks and the stressful time in between, worrying about when the next one would come.

"Are you feeling any better?" Vikk had asked after around two weeks.

"Yeah, sure." Harry had responded, staring at the wall. "I feel great."

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