dichotomy ; gawsten

twenty seven

i was absolutely not supposed to write this tonight but i couldn't help it

trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of blood (nothing too bad i swear)

He knows this.

He's been here before.

He blinks rapidly. The room slowly starts to come into focus. He can see it now. It's not blurry. He's not shaking. His heart is slow, almost like it's exhausted from all the exercise it's been getting lately.

The room is white. He doesn't turn his head, only tilts it forward for his chin to sit in the gap between both of his collarbones so he can see everything through his peripherals. He winces and lets his head back down, takes a breath in and closes his eyes. The antiseptic smell is everywhere. It's like someone bottled it up and sprayed it like perfume throughout the entire room, intoxicating.

"Geoff?"

He swallows and turns. "J-Jawn?"

He hears rustling and shoes slapping against the floor, and opens his mouth to say something else, but finds himself against Jawn's chest in the biggest hug he's had in a while, voice muffled. "Mmph," he gets out. "Jawn..."

"Shut up." Jawn's voice is thick. He can hear the tears. He squirms, tries to lift his head to see his best friend's face, but Jawn's grip on him is too tight. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'm sorry," he ventures. He moves his free arm up to wrap around Jawn's back, or, well, he tries. It doesn't come with him. He turns the slightest bit in Jawn's hold, sees the IV inserted into his wrist, the crimson coating the tubing, feels that sinking feeling, feels his entire chest collapse as his heart starts another marathon. "W-What, I- what is this...?"

Jawn's arms finally loosen around him, enough for Geoff to lift his head and meet his eyes. He bites his lip. Jawn's eyes are bloodshot and red. His face is swollen and tearstained. The ridge beneath his nose is still shiny with snot and his lip is quivering. It's then that Geoff notices how badly he's shaking; he can feel his body practically vibrating against him. "You needed a blood transfusion, Geoff. You cut that deep."

"I don't- I didn't, I-"

"I found you quicker last time." Jawn's words sound tight, forced, like they're painful to speak. "I was almost too late."

"Jawn..." The lump in his throat is building. The pocket of tears creating an ache behind his eyes has now traveled to his esophagus, setting up home and growing steadily as time passes. It feels like a thousand tiny bugs buzzing around inside, pushing against the walls, so close to ripping through. You will not cry. You will not cry right now. You will not cry. "I- I'm so sorry."

Jawn doesn't have to say it. He feels like he's falling, sinking to the bottom of the ocean, weighed down, heavy. It's pushing down on him, pressing his shoulders to the floor every time he tries to get up, rise above it. It's a wrecking ball racing toward him and his feet are glued to the floor and it hits him, knocks him, tears him to the ground, happens over and over again, doesn't stop. Constant. It's accidentally letting go of someone's hand, watching them fall down the cliff and into the abyss with that same sinking feeling, like everything is collapsing, his body is folding in on itself and all he can do is watch.

"I never thought you'd do it again." Jawn's voice is shaking so badly. He sounds like he's going to burst into sobs. There are already tears rolling down his cheeks. "I mean, I was scared. I was scared all the time. But I guess I just- I didn't think you'd actually do it. I thought the first time freaked you out too bad."

"Jawn-"

"You didn't take pills this time." Geoff wants to hug him. He wants to pull him into the biggest, longest, tightest hug ever, and never let him go. Press his lips against his ear and breathe, I'm sorry I'm like this I'm sorry I'm not getting better I'm sorry you're stuck with this mess for a best friend I'm so fucking sorry. "There was so much blood."