opia; matty healy.

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A/N: I know I said I wouldn't update but turns out I've gotten EXTREMELY sick in the last few days and for some reason every single time I get sick my motivation for being creative (especially writing) spikes during this time. Sooooooooo I do have quite a few chapters that I've written over the last couple of days and I'm going to be posting them over the next month, then hopefully mid-November there'll be a bunch more chapters. Please enjoy and don't forget to comment and whatever else it is y'all do to show love.

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To: Alex

Real funny. I'm not sure what you're trying to get at, but whatever if it: it's not working. Leave Matty and his friends alone.

At this point I shove my phone into my back pocket, slipping on my shoes quickly and picking up the jacket with the note now shoved into the pocket once again. I can feel myself crying at my many thoughts, the tears streaming down my cheeks as the harsh wind hits my face. I'm close to Matty's, but I fear I'll break down before I get to his front door.

Somehow I've managed to attract an ordeal of drama into my life in a week and a half. Yes, I decided to text Alex just now, but he's targeting me: me. I've known him a week, I'm no one to anyone and yet I seem to be everything. Always in the centre, never where I want to be: on the outside, looking in, avoiding what hurts. Pain is attracted to my heart, it seems.

I knock on the front door quickly and George greets me casually – until he realises I've got a tear stained jumper and cheeks. I rush past him and lock the bathroom door behind me.

"Isabel? What's wrong?" I could hear George's footsteps behind me; it'd be a lie to say I'm surprised he's followed me.

"I-I'll be okay," I manage to choke out between my heavy breathing.

My chest begins to tighten and I can feel the air rushing out of me quickly. I'm losing my breath no matter how many times I attempt to count to ten. My crying is louder as everything begins to weigh down on my shoulders. I stand, keeping my balance on the sink as I unlock the door and pull it open, crashing into George's body and letting go of everything.

The weight gets heavier as I bear the burden of allowing George to carry my own. I pull away from his comfort as much as it pains me, but he leads me over to the tub and sits me on the ground, closing and locking the door behind us. I can hear more footsteps approaching and a few voices speaking – maybe even shouting. They're drowned out by the pounding in my chest and head. I'm internally screaming for help, but I can barely breathe outside.

"Just breathe," George manages to get my attention, my wide eyes turn to him quickly. He tells me like I haven't been trying for the last few minutes.

"I can't-" my voice is hoarse so I stop.

"You can," He smiles softly, "you're having a panic attack – it's alright, just count to ten and breathe."

He begins counting and I try to stop my legs and hands from shaking, only growing in fear of embarrassment. I attempt to follow George's voice, breathing in on one and out on two. We sit for up to ten minutes as I try to catch my breath again, the tears still flowing freely in between. He doesn't seem to mind that I'm gripping his hand tight and occasionally crying onto his shirt.

"You okay now?" He inquires quietly.

I nod, "Yeah- Yeah, I think so. I just-"

"I understand," I look up to see him smiling, "It happens to the best of us. I assume you don't want to talk about it."

I shake my head, "Family stuff, I think I overreacted."

Although a small lie, this is one of the things that had come to mind while I was walking to Matty's house. All of my problems had become one massive problem, not just an array of small ones. It became too much. It is too much.