Michael Afton x Reader

panic sets in

warning: panic attack. please skip to the next chapter if that makes you uncomfortable as the entire chapter is about that!

-Y/N'S POV-

it was nice to finally talk about what was weighing so heavily on your mind. back in high school, no matter what friend group you ended up in you always turned out being the friend everyone spoke to about their problems but had no one to care about your own. because of that as well as a few other factors, you rarely told people about your issues and instead handled it on your own in your own time. since it was how you had always dealt with problems, you never realized how draining it was.

this venting shit actually is kinda nice, you thought as you told Mikey about your issue. he was really calm the entire time you spoke, making it easier for you to open up to him. well he was, at least until you started describing the crying child.

the more you explained what the ghost looked like, the more tense Michael became underneath you. his grip around your waist became tighter and you could feel his chest rising and falling extremely quickly underneath you.

I wonder if that's what he breathes like when he c-

joking aside, his reaction was scaring you. as gently as possible, you turned your body to face him and tried to read his expression. he looks...
terrified.

"Michael? what's wrong?" you ask timidly.

"oh god." he whispered, almost inaudible.

"Michael please what's going on?" you asked a little louder, extremely concerned for your boyfriend. boyfriend? we never made anything official.. oh shut up, this isn't important right now!

"Michael?" you repeated, but it was as if you were talking to a recording. he didn't react to your words, and instead sat petrified in his chair. a singer tear rolled down his cheek as he stared straight ahead with wide eyes.

"fuck, you're scaring me-" you say, thinking out loud. again, he didn't respond, so you got off of him and crouched in front of him, making sure you were at eye level with him. he finally noticed you and locked eyes with you. to keep his attention on you, you placed your hands on each side of his face.

"Michael please talk to me. what's wrong?" you begged. instead of answering, he squirmed away from your touch and sunk to the floor.
what have I done?

immediately you dropped to your knees and sat on the floor next to his huddled mass. you couldn't read his expression ad his head was buried in his arms which also wrapped around his knees, keeping him in a tight ball.

as you moved closer to him, you realized Michael was shaking? is he having a panic attack?

it seemed like he was, and you knew you had to do something. judging by the way he reacted to you touching him before, you knew trying to hug him was out of the question. fuck, why can't I be good at comforting people?! you think with an internal groan. it didn't matter. for now, you would just have to work with whatever spur-of-the-moment ideas your brain came up with.

"you're safe, okay? nothing is going to hurt you, you're going to be okay." you say quietly. but loud enough for him to hear. I hope this helps, I have literally no idea what I'm doing.

tentatively, you reached out and grabbed his hand that was closer to you with both of yours. you looked up at him, hoping he wouldn't move away from you again, and he didn't. unfortunately, he didn't react to you at all.

still holding his hand, you began to talk again. "Mike, you're going to hyperventilate. focusing on breathing, okay? I need you to take a deep, slow breath in." you said, gently squeezing and rubbing circles into his hand with your thumb as you did so. he tensed for a moment again, and you immediately pulled your hands away from his. to your surprise, he reached a shaky hand back towards you and you took it, resuming what you did before. as his breathing came to a slower, more regular pace you felt yourself relax as well. he was still shaking and silently crying however, so you took a risk.

"would it be okay if I hugged you?" you ask, and he hesitates before nodding his head 'yes.'

so you moved closer to him, sitting on your knees to be as close to him as possible. it would seriously hurt in a while, but what did that matter?

you wrapped both arms around his torso and continued making circular movements with your thumb, but this time against his bicep instead of the back of his hand. he leaned his head against your side and let out a muffled sob. you continued to attempt conforting him for what could've been an hour or just 5 minutes, you couldn't tell.

saying kind phrases and holding him must have helped, because his breathing remained at a normal rate and he stopped shaking. should I try talking to him? I've never seen someone have a panic attack before, much less try to comfort them. should I stay like this? do I get up?

after a few more minutes of silence, you decide that that if you wanted to get up, your legs were completely asleep and would allow you to. on the floor I will stay. I like the floor. yeah. school linoleum tiles, fuck yeah.

on the floor you stay, with Michael curled up next to you. he's slouching a lot for you to be able to hig him comfortably due to your size difference.

"I'm sorry, y/n." he croaked, his voice hoarse. hearing him speak shocked you momentarily, but you just as quickly returned to your former state.

"for what?" you calmly asked.

"all of this," he replied with a sad chuckle. he looked up at you after replying and you could see his bloodshot, regretful eyes and his tired expression. his lips curled into a painfully sad smile as he chuckled, but soon faded and he put his head back down against his knees.

"you have nothing to apologize for, love." you said in a soft but firm tone. "would you be comfortable telling me what's wrong though?"

he looks back up at you and holds eye contact for a while before leaning his head against the desk behind you and looking up at the ceiling.

"well uhm- when I was- you had described-" he tried to begin explaining a few times but each sentence failed. you hugged him a bit tighter, as if to say, "take your time, it's alright." or maybe just to say, "I fucking love you."

"you... described my brother. when you were talking about the ghosts I believed you because there are some that people like Vincent have seen, but not him." he paused for a long time. you couldn't couldn't process what he was saying.
his brother? as in, Evan, the little brother who died? no. no! I always said I believed it ghosts as a joke, I don't want to actually have to live with the knowledge that they do!

Michael looked back over at you, his eyes full of fear and what you could only imagine to be regret.

"y/n... what if he still hates me?"

a/n: love y'all 🤭

word count: 1220