Seeing You Cry

"I'm so sorry," Yoosung kept repeating, hugging you close against him, unsure of what to do. You were shaking uncontrollably, your heart was thundering against your chest, your head was pounding, you felt like you couldn't breathe. The entire room was spinning and it just felt like anything that could possibly be going wrong was.

"I don't know what to do I don't know what to do I don't know what to do I don't know what to do," you kept saying, the words flying out of your mouth. The feeling was fleeting, unnatural, unstable, unreal. It was completely and utterly terrifying. It was the most debilitating feeling in the world. You were having a panic attack. Again. You thought you were over this part of your life, that it was something you could pack up and mail away and never deal with ever again. But it always came back to haunt you... it was like a ghost that you could never shake away because it stalked you every single living moment... a shadow of who you are.

"I-I thought I was getting better," you stammer, gripping onto Yoosung's arms, trying not to throw up, trying not to faint, trying not to die.

"You are getting better!" Yoosung encouraged with a twinge of concern laced in his voice, still making sure to hold you close in case you fell. "You have been making so much progress, baby. This was just a tiny step back from all of the work that you have done."
You shook your head, in absolute denial. You lost faith in yourself the moment you started feeling panicky. It crept up on you, completely unexpected. But when it hit, you knew exactly what it was and there was no escaping the situation. This was something you were going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. It wasn't something that you could get surgery for or get a vaccine for. It was just something that plagued you... every single day in every single way in every single place.

"I'm so sorry," you tried to bite your lip and not cry in front of him. Yoosung hated seeing you cry, not because he was annoyed or disappointed with you. He would never feel that way towards you, because he understood how much you worked and how hard you fought against this. He saw you take the medication the doctor prescribed to you, go to school, go to work, try to live life no matter how hard it was. He encouraged you by writing little sticky notes of encouragement next to your breakfast, giving you kisses on the forehead when you were tired, and reminding you that once you had a panic attack, you could call him and would be right at your side in the matter of minutes. You both worked hard at this. But sometimes it just failed. Crumpled. Cracked into a million little pieces and shattered and split even more as it landed all over the floor.

"It's not working it's not working it's not working nothing's working," you breathe, beginning to hyperventilate.

"I think you should sit down," Yoosung urged, his expression now marked with clear apprehension. "I don't want you to pass out."

"O-okay," you obliged, nodding your head vigorously while trying to catch your breath. The blond lead you into your room, making sure you were able to find a place to sit at the edge of the bed.

You sat, your hands trying to find something to do by running themselves up and down, over your knees, up your thighs, and then back down again.

"I can't seem to calm down," you whispered to yourself. "Nothing was working nothing was working nothing was working."

"Just try your best!" Yoosung smiled, taking your hand and putting it in his lap. "I know you can do it."

"No, sometimes I can't," you say, jumping as he touched you and taking your hand back. "It's not that easy."

"How about we try the breathing exercises the counselor told you about that one time?" Yoosung suggested, his face lighting up at the thought. "You inhale for five seconds, hold your breath for one, and then exhale for another five seconds. Why don't we give that a shot?"