Husbands But Not

31: Panic

Kent

Panic.

Maybe it was me who was panicked, and maybe it was Noah.

For all I knew, it could've been both.

The things you can hear in one minute as you walk across a few tables, occupied by a few people who talked a little too much, could ruin your life.

I was aware of how overdramatic it was. But that's what panic did, right? The smallest things seem huge, and the slightest breeze becomes a hurricane.

I didn't feel like I was panicking, I felt like I was panic itself.

P-A-N-I-C.

The rush of blood through my ears and the heavy steps through my feet drove me places in my mind, and to places I became familiar with.

Poetic fright.

Dad had influence in his job. He had power and he had the contacts and he knew how to get away with things, from things, and he knew very well how to get where he wanted.

I didn't know if I ran or walked. The means didn't matter because the end was always ended the same.

The house came to view first.

It was like the first time I found myself beaten up and lying on the grass around the corner of the Grayson's residence.

I wasn't beaten up physically this time.

My mental state, though; a whole different story.

The sad part was: it hurt just the same.

Accompanied by the panic of all the murmurs I heard, every turn I made without finding Noah felt like a punch to my body and a bruise that would take forever to fade away.

Physical bruises heal over time, but mental ones scar forever.

I didn't stop to lie down against the grass. I made my way to Noah's bedroom window. He always kept it slightly ajar. I hoped dearly that he wouldn't mind me sneaking into his room, yet I hoped more that I'd find him in it.

I opened it and rolled across the window seat, falling face flat on the floor.

He wasn't home yet.

I remained as I was, lying down on the hardwood floor behind the bed.

The shaking was coming and going in waves, Washing in and out of my body like the blood in my veins. My heart and mind were being slaves, his heart and mind were the chains. The humming in my ears was a louder octave, my feelings swirling in hurricanes.

Then everything becomes silent as one sound broke through.
The bedroom door opened all the way through.
He told me over and over that it'll pass through.
His cold hand on my neck
ignited a spark.
And then it all
went dark.

When I woke up, I was stiffly lying on the floor, still.

"You fell asleep." Noah said. "I'm sorry." I rubbed my face and felt it sting a bit. "I slapped your face harder than I wanted to."

He looked so funny I was trying hard not to laugh. "Why did you even slap me?".

"I panicked and thought you fainted."

"We're good." I closed my eyes again. "Five more minutes."

"No, get up, you bitch. I've been crying for at least six minutes." That was when I noticed his tear-stained face.

I stood straighter and asked why.

"I don't know. I've been panicking all night."

"Hate to say 'same'."

"What even is us, anymore?" He asked rhetorically.

"Home Economics husbands." I said. We haven't touched the final project yet.

He laughed. "We haven't even touched the project yet."

"You can touch my hand for now." I took his hand in mine. "Touch the project later."

"If I remember correctly, you owe me a dance." It wasn't a reminder as much as it was a demand.

He stood up and lifted my hand with him. My whole body followed as we left the room and passed down the hall, then rounded the stairs and out to the backyard. The pool was dimly lit, with the waters looking lighter than Noah's footsteps across the cold tiles that framed the poolside.

"May I have this dance, Mr. Sinclair?"

"You're cheesy as hell, Mr. Grayson." He raised his eyebrows in plea. "But you can have your dance."

He beamed and it felt like the moon was reflected in his smile.

Earth's moon and my moon were very different, for my moon reflected the moon instead of the Sun.

We danced around thinking we were professional ballroom dancers, though we probably looked like two little dorks with dysfunctional coordination.

The dancing turned to silly movements of us going around each other. Our laughter echoed through the night and and bounced off the stars until a sudden moment of dread washed over us.

I rested my head on his shoulder and we slowly spun in an embrace. I wasn't crying even though it felt like I was.

"I'm sorry I panicked and left." It was getting hard to breathe; recalling the recent events. "I'm sorry I snuck into your room, that too without your permission."

"It's okay." his hand was going up and down my back. "You snuck into my heart without permission too, so you have a habit of sneaking into places you're more than welcome to be in."

"Still though, I caused you to panic when I didn't mean to."

"We can make panic a little more beautiful." He said, albeit I didn't know what he meant.

"Beautifulest." Because anything Noah did, he did it ten times more better than it should be.

"It's such an ugly thing, but we don't have to look at it that way. At least not when you're involved."

We were still going around slowly when something in the background caught my eyes. Behind the curtains of his dads' bedroom, their silhouette appeared soft on the closed curtains. They were dancing too.

"Placid." Noah said out of nowhere. "You're not easily affected by emotion. You're placid, Sinclair."

"What does it have to do with now?"

"Amiable." He added, ignoring my question. "Because you're pleasant to be with."

I didn't interrupt him, so he continued.

"Nitid." the third word was nitid, and I thought I knew what he was getting at. "Because you're shining brighter than the moon tonight."

"Immaculate." the fourth. "The most Immaculate person I've known. But dammit, I can't think of a C word."

"Cerulean." I said quickly. "You're Cerulean, the prettiest shade of blue to exist."

That's how we made panic beautiful that night.

A/N: I'm not dead, just very tired 24/7.

Hope you enjoyed the last beautiful chapter for the rest is just gonna be pain and misery. You're welcome.

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Thanks so much for 70k on this story, I'm S H O O K.

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