summer

nine- panic

Sunlight filtered through Dylan's room, the curtains drawn open. They would normally be shut, but someone had opened them yesterday. Dylan rubbed his eyes and checked the wall clock above his door. 2. A little bit early- but he wasn't too tired, so it was time to get up. He heaved himself up in bed, and looked up to see Sawyer sitting at his desk.

       "Good morning," he said, resulting in Dylan jumping out of his skin in shock.

       "What the fuck, Sawyer? What are you doing in my room while I'm sleeping? You are such a weirdo!"

       "I was waiting for you to wake up. You always yell at me when I wake you up, so-"

      "Okay, but there was no need to sit in my room and watch me sleep!"

"Yeah, but I just walked in. I literally just sat down to think about whether I was going to wake you or not."

"Liar."

"Really?" Sawyer said, and it was then Dylan realized how annoyed he was. He stood up, his mouth a taught line, and rolled his eyes.

"Why are you annoyed at me?" Dylan snapped. "You're not the one who woke up to someone literal watching them sleep!"

"You really wanna know?" Sawyer spat, eyes blazing. Dylan hadn't known him long, but he'd never seen him like this.

"Yeah, Sawyer, I do."

"You can't tell why I'd be annoyed? Jesus fucking Christ, Dylan, all I've been doing is trying with you. I've been trying to be your friend, trying to comfort you, trying to be there for you when you're upset, and all you do is yell at me! I get it, you're scared, you think I'm playing with you, but fuck! I'm not, Dylan! And you're so fucking mean to me, for no reason! Can you name one thing about me? One?"

"Sawyer, I-" Dylan started, horrified as his breath caught in his chest.

"No, Dylan, you can't. That's because it's been all about you since I got here, and yeah, you're hurt, I know. I'm not going to blame you for being upset about your memory loss. I'm so sorry that happened to you, Dy, but you don't know anything about me! You just assumed everything about me the second you saw me, and that fucking sucks! I'm not the person you think I am. All I've been doing is trying. Trying so fucking hard. And all you do is yell, and snap, and scowl at me. I just- I don't know what to do at this point. I feel like I can't even be mad at you because it's not your fault you're hurting. But, Jesus, I'm hurting too! It's not all about you!" He finished, waving his hands in the air. Dylan's chest tightened up even more, his breath coming in hiccupy waves as he stared at Sawyer's hurt expression.

He's right. He's right and I know it. Fuck. I'm so horrible. I'm sorry, I'm sorry Sawyer. I don't mean to be like this, I don't, I swear. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he thought, before he was suddenly speaking out loud.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sawyer. I'm sorry," he squeaked, his voice pitchy and odd. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-"

"It's whatever. I don't care," Sawyer said, his expression still cold as he avoided looking at Dylan.

"No, you do care. I'm so mean to you. I'm so sorry, Sawyer. I'm so mean. I don't- I don't know why I'm like this. I don't know. Im sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" he choked, pulling his knees to his chest. His breaths were coming in huge shaky gasps, and it was then that Sawyer looked up at him.

"Oh, geez, Dylan, it's not that big of a deal," he said, discomfort displayed across his furrowed brow and slight frown.

"I'm sorry," Dylan gasped, and then burst into tears. He buried his face in his hands and pushed himself farther away from Sawyer, huge and heavy sobs shaking his tiny frame.

"Oh, no. Dylan, fuck. Oh, shit. Im sorry. I'm sorry, Dylan, I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"No! It's my fault. It's my own, stupid fault. I'm sorry, I'm so selfish and so fucked up. I don't- I don't know why I do that, but I just do. I'm sorry. I really am, Sawyer," he cried, looking up at him for just a moment. He realized that Sawyer had sat on the bed beside him, worry painting his face, which only upset Dylan more. "No!" He cried, reaching out to hold Sawyer's face in his hands. Sawyer recoiled, shock clear in his eyes. "No! You're not supposed to be worried! No, no, no! This is exactly what I do! I'm making this about me again! Oh, fuck. Sawyer, no. I'm not- I'm not trying to! Sawyer, I swear, I'm sorry, I don't-" Sawyer's eye were wide with a fearful sort of discomfort. "No, please, Sawyer, don't be afraid of me!" Dylan cried, pulling his hands away from his face. "No, no, no," he sobbed, pushing himself away from Sawyer and farther down the bed. "No!" He gripped the sides of his head in his hands, his nails digging deep into his face.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, Sawyer. Sawyer. I'm sorry, his mind raced as he felt himself suffocating. In some part of his mind he knew that all he had to do was breathe, but his chest just couldn't seem to get the air. He pulled his hands back to slap the sides of his stupid head, hatred pouring through him as tears stained his cheeks and gasps poured from his mouth.

"Dylan! Dylan, hey, breathe! It's okay, Dylan. Breathe with me. Oh, Jesus. Dylan. Look at me," came Sawyer's voice, piercing through his cloud of sorrow. "It's okay. Breathe. You're having a panic attack, okay? It's okay. Breathe. Dylan's eyes locked on his, Sawyer's hands bracing his knees. "Breathe, Dy. It's okay. I'm not mad anymore. Just breathe."

"I'm sorry," Dylan croaked, meeting Sawyer's eyes this time.

"Oh, Dylan," Sawyer sighed, but not out of annoyance, out of pity. "It's okay," he whispered, and then pulled him into his arms.