When Hands Touch

18. open

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

OPEN

—

In the three hours that Xen was knocked out, Milo got a lot done.

For starters, he had to talk to Xen's first job's manager, and let him know that Xen wasn't going to show up to work. Then, he had to do the same with his second job's manager, then, his own job's manager.

After that, he had to call Jude and ask him if he could pick Lia up from school and tell him to let Lia know that he'd be home late.

All in all, Milo had made a lot of phone calls in the past three hours. And his social battery was just about drained, inspite of the fact that he didn't even socialise, not really.

He'd also read up everything he could on panic attacks— how to help, how it felt for the person who was having a panic attack, breathing techniques to stop them, he'd googled everything.

Currently, he was listening to a podcast on what a panic attack felt like, because his eyes were starting to ache from reading so much. It genuinely sent terror down Milo's spine when he just read about it, he couldn't even begin to imagine how scary it was to have one.

Suddenly, Xen let out a soft groan, blinking his eyes open as he squinted, looking around the room as if he'd never seen it before. Then, his eyes fell on Milo, and he closed them again, muttering something under his breath. Well, then.

"Xen?" Milo asked softly, reaching over to hand him the glass of water he'd filled. Xen accepted it, nearly dropping it in the process because of how unsteady his hands were. Jesus fucking Christ. "Can I get you anything?"

Shaking his head, Xen took a single sip of the water, because setting it down on the ground as he massaged the back of his neck with a low hiss.

Milo bit his lip, all knowledge which he'd recently attained leaving his head. How do I help after a panic attack? I didn't google this. "O-Okay, that's—"

"God, Milo," Xen groaned out, hunching over, hand still on his neck. "Fuck, I'm going to throw up."

Oh shit. "Can I—"

Before Milo could say anymore, Xen was on his feet, bedsheet strewn to the ground as he rushed to the bathroom. He shoved the door open, and the sound of violent coughing was heard. Milo immediately followed him, placing a cautious hand on Xen's back, moving it up and down when he didn't tell him to take it off.

"Xen? Come on, you're okay," he murmured, watching as Xen dry heaved into the sink, nothing coming out of his mouth except a few heavy gasps. "It's okay, you're okay."

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Xen nodded, letting out a soft breath. "It hurts," he mumbled, splashing some water on his face. He just stood there for a minute, before shaking his head as he clambered back into bed, removing his jacket. He kept Milo's hoodie on though.

For a moment, Milo was thankful that he wore hoodies that were three sizes too big for him. That way, it fit everyone who wore it, Xen included.

"What hurts?"

But Xen didn't reply to that. Nothing was said by either of them for a minute, as Xen slowly sipped on his water, occassionally shooting glances at Milo, who was trying his best to mind his own business and stop asking more questions. Xen would talk when he felt up to it, he decided.

"My fingers are cramped up," he informed Milo, opening his hand into a fist before closing it again. "You'd think, after having them for three years now, I'd get used to the fucking panic attacks. But they're so fucking physical, and so painful, and every time I have one, there's a new ache that comes along with it."