just-keep-breathing

//

the bathroom tiles are cold, and reflect the dullness of the rest of the space.

if someone was asked to describe it comfortable would not be their first choice, but it's home for him.

not that he doesn't have a house, he just doesn't call that rickety old shamble, with the musty smell and the dark hallways a home.

so he decided that if home could be anywhere, it was gonna be on these cold school bathroom floors.

not many people came to this one throughout the day, he knew that people didn't like to walk down this hallway, since it was on the old, under-construction part of the school.

the bathroom however, was recently finished, and even though no one came in here, it was probably the nicest one on campus.

he didn't go to class often, he preferred to drop by at the end and get his classwork and homework, then do it in the bathroom. it worked, and the teachers didn't care because he was still the top student.

so as he sits here, listening to that dumb ariana grande song again, it hits him.

this can't be all it is right?

he sits up, and checks to make sure the bathroom really is empty, scared that someone will hear his thoughts somehow. when no one is located, he returns.

good grades, perfect place to hang out, something's gotta be missing or go wrong soon, right?

what if, the school sets on fire, or he gets into drugs?

as his mind races and scans through the thousands of things that could go wrong in his life, he's unaware that the problem is really, thinking about the problem.

he doesn't notice his breathing getting harder, or the light sweat that breaks out on his forehead.

instead, he keeps worrying.

the bathroom tiles seem to start to move, and swirl around him, the room appears to be in motion.

he puts his head in his hands, and tries to shut his brain off because it's just too much and now his brain won't shut off and he realizes what a mistake he's made.

his entire body starts to shake again, and he can barely keep himself silent.

he feels scared, and he feels weak, but more importantly, he feels stupid.

if he hadn't gone and thought about all the bad things that were surely headed his way -mind you, he didn't know what was coming his way, but he knew it was bad- then he wouldn't have given himself another attack.

he just hopes no one decides to enter his bathroom.

everything is in motion around him, so he grabs his head in his hands, rolls into his side, and tries his best to just, stop.

meanwhile, over it all, that ariana grande song is still on repeat, and he concludes that it's really not helping him at all.

gradually, the room seems to run out of steam, or his brain runs out of bad solutions, because it stops spinning.

he exhales, at-least this one was fast, and no one had found him.

he concludes that he would rather have a panic attack by himself in a pretty luxurious bathroom, then have a cute guy -say, that one with the pink hair- walk in on him alone in the bathroom.

he opts to go back to what he was doing before, the tear lines on his face are still highly noticeable, says his cell phone camera, so he decides to just miss second period too.

he's about to begin writing another verse, when he hears a cough.

instantly, he drops all his supplies and shoots up to peer through the door.

he can't see much from his angle, but he can identify the pink hair on the boy's head.

there's a gentle knock on his stall, as the boy with the pink hair opens his mouth to speak.

"a-are you okay? i walked in here about 10 minutes ago to get away, but i didn't want to bother you"

in an effort to not embarrass himself, he moves backwards to unlock the stall door, but promptly slips on his notebook and falls straight onto the floor.

it's then when it hits him like a brick.

today, whatever god or force that was out there, decided he needed two things today

first, he needed something to go wrong in his day,

and second, he then needed someone to him from that bad thing.

"are you okay?"

"i think, i will be"