𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 #𝟏𝟖 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

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YOOOOO WHAT'S GOING ON GUYS, IT'S YOUR FLYING FALCON WITH THE SALT GUN, BACK WITH A WHOLE NEW ONESHOT JUST FOR YOU!!!

This one was suggested by the beautiful Kiwi__birb__ :) I love you, you're awesome and deserve the world <3 Sorry that this took so long to come out, by the way!!

WARNING
Self harm, suicidal thoughts and panic attack. If that triggers you, please skip this oneshot.

ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





You remembered the first time it happened.

It had at first been a change so subtle that you had almost not noticed it. Like a small fist wrapped around your heart, one that gradually grew for each second, until the fist was white from clenching too hard, and your heart, broken into a thousand pieces, ones that soon ripped holes into your lungs, causing your throat to close up and you to gasp for air.

You remembered you felt as if you were dying. You remembered imagining your face turning gradually more and more blue the less oxygen you gasped through your closed-up throat, that felt as if it was suddenly just a blocked airway - you couldn't breathe. You remembered how you had stumbled into the bathroom, hauling the door open and not caring about anything that you might've pulled with you down, or the towel you almost tripped over; you needed air. Now. 

You had remembered the stinging sensation it left on the outer skin of your throat as you desperately clawed at it with your fingers, wincing when you felt your nails scrap against your delicate skin. You remembered how it felt as you slammed into the marble-tiled walls of your bathroom and how your tailbone had protested as it was harshly seated onto the cold floors. 

You couldn't breathe. 

You remembered the outlines of your vision slightly blackened, and you remembered thinking that was it - this was your grand exit in life, suffocating against the walls of your own bathroom, scratching at your throat in attempts of getting air into your lungs. There was air, but you couldn't get it through your clogged up throat. 

There was air, but you couldn't breathe. 

You also remembered the annoying tingles that suddenly appeared in your sensitive hands and feet, feeling as if they were getting stabbed by needles or a small knife. It had hurt, but your aching lungs had hurt more. 

You faintly remembered flailing your legs around in an attempt of trying to do something, anything, and had kicked down the small trashcan next to your toilet, the content inside spilling all over the floor. An old makeup wipe, a crumpled napkin and some swabs. 

And you remembered the sound of George bursting through the front door. You remembered hearing his light footsteps tap through the house with an urgency so fast, it for a moment reminded you of how much he cared for you. 

And you remembered his worried tear-stained face coming into view, clearing out the faint color of black and the dots that had started clouding out your vision, consuming you and luring you to pass out. But the second he got there, they weren't needed. And the gasps of you hyperventilating had finally ceased, as well as your flailing limbs while you desperately panted,  suddenly feeling very grateful for the air around you, something so simple that humans often took for granted. 

George was there, and suddenly, you could breathe again. 

George was there the second time it happened as well. And the third. And the fourth. 

But he hadn't been there for the fifth. And that had been when you had needed to find another solution, one that would help you return back to your senses. 

𝐌𝐂 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒Where stories live. Discover now