oneshots ; gawsten

"don't cry."

mild trigger warnings for anxiety/panic attacks.

i'm so excited about this one. in honor of it being the last day of pride month...enjoy.

33. "don't cry."

He shouldn't be here.

He doesn't know why he is, really. It doesn't feel right. There are stingers burning through his skin with every new step, a sea of razor sharp talons that dig themselves into his flesh and cut, rip, tear, why are you even here why did you think this was a good idea it wasn't worth all the shit it wasn't worth this you shouldn't be here you don't belong here you shouldn't be here you don't belong here-

His heart is pounding. He can still feel the bite in his cheek, the pinpricks of pain that blossom throughout in short bursts. Everything hurts. He doesn't know where it starts or ends. It just hurts. It all hurts. Everything hurts.

This was a bad idea you made a mistake it was bad badbadbad he hates you he fucking hates you you have to go back there and he hates you what the hell are you gonna do what's gonna happen from here why do you have to be so stupid why couldn't you have just kept your damn mouth shut why are you like this what the fuck is wrong with you-

He's seen the event posts for parades on Facebook. They're going on all across the country, in all of the big cities and a bunch of smaller ones. Los Angeles, Seattle, Philadelphia, New York City, San Diego, Houston...

Houston. He remembers scrolling through the LA event listing and then navigating to Google right after, typing in 'Houston Pride', feeling his heart race, crossing his fingers as the page loaded.

He remembers feeling like his chest had opened up, like the floodgates had finally released and everything was able to pour out. He remembers the tears, feeling them on his cheeks before he even knew he was crying, it's here, it's happening, you can go. You can go there and be with them and feel safe and loved and accepted for who you are. You can go. You can be who you are. You can go.

He remembers how badly his hands shook as he dialed a number, pressing the phone against his ear and tightening his grip, please, tell me what to do I don't know what to do tell me what to do I'm so scared please please please-

Aws, hey, it'll be okay. You're gonna go out there and have so much fun, okay? Let them paint rainbows all over you and shine so fuckin' bright in the middla that street. It'll be okay. You'll be okay.

It'll be okay.

You'll be okay.

It'll be okay.

You'll be okay.

His cheeks are still wet. He blinks, feels the liquid transfer onto his eyelashes, and swallows. The lump in his throat is massive. The tears are burning. Sun is beating into his back, dampening the back of his shirt and encompassing him.

There are rainbows everywhere.

The street is covered. Flags are hanging from telephone poles and street signs. There are vendors with carts wearing the colored pieces of fabric as bandannas or bracelets or even capes. People are selling them. All kinds of flags, all different colors of the rainbow.

He sees a traditional rainbow one. There's another with only pink, purple and blue. Purple, white, grey. Blue, yellow, pink. White, pink, blue. Various pinks and reds. There are so many different flags so many different colors there's so much he doesn't know everyone's laughing and talking and hugging it's so loud there's so much noise and people laughingtalkinghugging why did you think this was a good idea you don't belong here you can't fit into all of this and most importantly who the fuck even said you belong here-