HARRY STYLES IMAGINES & ONE SHOTS

panic attack

Requested by: @littleworldoffandoms

"What about one where Harry gets some kind insecure or a panic attack (or something) and y/n comforts him?/or opposite?"

★☆★☆★☆★☆

This had been my damn fourth one since the start of the tour. I'm afraid if I bring up my panic attacks to, anyone really, they're going to have to halt the rest of the tour. And this sort of thing will make me look bad as this is my first solo project. I also could never let my fans down; they mean too much to me.

As much as I want to greet every single one of them right now, management and security have been going on a stupid tirade about stopping to meet fans. I'm not allowed to do it.

This particular month has been our busiest one yet. I've got back to back concerts, no time to rest, and they've been working me to the fucking bone with radio interviews, press conferences, and rehearsals. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I just treasure even the smallest of seconds I get of the peace and quiet.

We just landed in our next city and right off the bat, my tour manager's already barking orders to everyone around, me included. We aren't even going to the hotel first. We're stopping by a local radio station to broadcast an interview. You would think they'd give me a little bit of time to rest after an eight hour flight. I'm just so exhausted I can barely comprehend what's going on.

We're not even close to the exit of the airport yet and I could already hear all of the screaming fans outside. I appreciate their passion and devotion and will forever be grateful, it's just that it triggered something in me and now my heart is thudding and my vision is starting to disfigure.

I try to keep a calm composure as the guards lead me to the large van parked out front but the yelling and the such little space to move is starting to overwhelm me. I flash a small, forced smile and wave my hand a little before I'm pushed completely into the van with the door being closed shut quite forcefully. A few other familiar tour members, I still haven't got the time to meet, occupy the space and insecurity then starts to build up inside of me. I can't believe I'm going through this right now in front of all these strangers.

Despite the van's large spacious structure, it's starting to feel enclosed to me and it's as if someone is vacuuming all of the air out. I need to get out of here.

"Why isn't the car moving?" I ask quite irritatingly to Jeff who's sitting beside me. He looks up from his phone and then outside where a whole bunch of people are plastering themselves against the windows, pounding and yelling.

"They're blocking it! I can't move!" the driver yells behind his shoulder as he continues to honk relentlessly. That's when the hyperventilation starts, causing my throat to feel incredibly dry.

I fidget positions from resting my head against my hands to laying back against my seat to tapping my leg as an attempt to distract myself.

"Will you quit moving? You're shaking the car," Jeff places his hand on my bicep as if to restrain me from moving any further. But it only makes me feel even more claustrophobic. The fans outside start shaking the car and all I hear are screams and car horns and I feel as if someone is choking me from behind. I even subconsciously reach up to my neck to feel for any pairs of hands that could possibly be squeezing around my throat.

My chest is heaving up and down and everything looks as if I'm looking through a fish-eyed lens. I try to calm my breathing but I can't with all the commotion going on around me. At this point, I don't even care that they're all witnessing my panic attacks right now, I just want to get the fuck out of here.

"Jeff. Jeff, let me out," I try to say as calmly as possible.

"What are you going on about, Harry? We have to get to the radio station." He looks back at his phone. "Hey, driver! Just start moving the car and they'll move too!"