RAD Panic

RAD Panic

Part of my Under the Surface series of oneshots that feature an MC with mental health struggles.

*Trigger warning: describes a panic attack and unhealthy coping mechanisms and behaviors. Please seek help if you are struggling with anxiety.*

I knew what was coming this morning when that jittery feeling began sinking into my chest, making my heart beat a little too quickly and my breathing try to speed up. I felt fidgety and restless.

That was this morning. It had let up for a few hours, but now, five minutes into this class, it’s back with a vengeance. Ugh, it’s going to be one of the really bad ones. The feeling of painful anxiety just keeps building, the pressure on my heart and lungs increasing. I struggle to focus enough to take notes, feeling myself space out for a second or two before snapping back into focus. I swear I’m zoned out more than in at this point.

I regulate my breathing, forcing myself to take long, easy breaths. It doesn’t help much, and I fidget again, looking at the clock. I can make it another half hour, right? It’s just thirty minutes.

Twenty-nine.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-eight and…I'm not going to make it.

No, wrong attitude. I just need to be okay for another…twenty-seven minutes. I fidget in my seat again, digging my nails painfully into my palms in a foolish attempt to distract myself from the growing pain in my chest.

I breathe deeply and try to focus on taking notes and on what the professor says, but an increasingly large amount of my brain is hyper aware of my building anxiety, the need to get away, to escape, and the imminent collapse I know is coming.

Satan gives me a questioning look from where he sits beside me. I give him a smile, trying to reassure him. Is it convincing? I have no idea. I hope so.

Ugh, why can’t I just make it go away? I hate these stupid anxiety episodes.

As the last few minutes of class approach it takes great effort not to pack up early, not to squirm in my seat. I just breathe and hope I can hold it together for the last few minutes. I’m so close now.

The deep chime of the bell announces the end of that class and I throw my stuff into my bag in an uncharacteristically haphazard scramble. I barely get myself to check and make sure I’m not leaving anything behind before I hurry for the door, not bothering to wait for anyone or talk like I normally might. Trying to get away before anyone tries to talk or socialize with me. Or ask me any questions I won’t be able to answer honestly.

I just need to get somewhere private asap. Then I can let the suppressed panic attack run loose and maybe get it over with.

The pain in my chest makes it feel like forever before I find a place where there aren’t any prying eyes–a small classroom off the beaten path. I wonder vaguely if it is risky going somewhere so isolated by myself–after all, it is a school full of demons.

Unfortunately, I just don’t have the mental fortitude or energy to care about that at the moment. I shut the door behind me and move along the wall away from the glass window on the door before sitting on the ground, hugging my knees to my chest and using the wall as a backrest.

Now out of sight of anyone else, I allow the panic attack to run its course. My entire body shakes and I whimper in pain, nails digging into my arms. I feel tears gather in my eyes at the isolation, being completely alone with no one to help, no one to talk to, no support system. I feel overwhelmingly afraid and lonely and it claws at my chest like an enraged bear.

I sob loudly before taking deep breaths to try to quiet myself. I was still at RAD. I didn’t want to draw attention to my condition here. Or have someone notice my presence here. I steady my breathing until I’m pretty sure I can’t be heard outside. I let myself shake and shudder, quiet sobs hurting my throat and tears streaming down my face.

I freeze at the sound of the doorknob turning. I bite my lip, frozen, holding my breath, then quickly cleaning the tears from my face, just in case. Crap. Who’s here? Holding completely still–an impressive feat for my adrenaline-overloaded body–I turn just my eyes toward the door.

“MC?” Simeon’s gentle voice asks. He stands in the doorway, teal eyes searching the room. I try to hold completely still but a slight tremor sneaks through. Turns out I can’t fully stop the shaking again.

His eyes land on me and I stand, laughing awkwardly. I don’t have any believable reason for hiding in an empty classroom in a remote part of campus, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try to brush this off.

I hate that I’ve been found, and by one of the angels, no less. He is probably more likely to pick up on my “super not okay” vibes. Ugh, what would an angel think of me, hiding in a room to cry? Probably think that humans are as weak and pathetic as they’d been taught, in need of angels for everything. I wish I could just go back to hiding and crying. But there is a person here now. I have to deal with this situation first.

“Hi, Simeon,” I say, carefully keeping my tone light and as close to normal as I can manage. And I can manage very well. I smile, allowing my hair to fall close to my face, hoping that somehow he’d miss that I’ve been crying. I didn’t turn my face completely to him for the same reason. “I was just taking a break. Did you need something?”

He frowns at me, walking toward me. I cringe inwardly, fear of being discovered as weak and pathetic freezing my insides solid. It frustrates me. It isn’t my fault my brain presses the panic button like it’s a fun game on the playground.

But that isn’t the point right now.

“MC, are you okay? It seemed like something was bothering you during class. Satan and I were both worried, but then you rushed out before either of us could ask you about it,” Simeon asks.

Ugh. Crap. I was afraid of that when I left so abruptly. Well, I supposed I was afraid whether I liked it or not at the time, but still. I’d have made a better show of being okay, but I hadn’t been able to take it. “Oh, I’m just feeling a bit under the weather. I’m okay, though,” I say with a bright smile.

Okay. As in not actively dying. That counts as okay, right? I fold my arms, which I can feel shaking slightly, digging my fingernails into the soft flesh as I attempt to hold myself together enough to get through this social interaction. To get Simeon to leave so I can have my breakdown and move on with life.

He stops when he's about a foot away. “You don’t seem like you’re okay. If you’re having a hard time, you can talk to me about it. I promise I just want to help,” he says gently. That soothing, caring tone is almost enough to rip the mask right off and send me sobbing again. I feel the tears rising at the prospect of someone being there to help and comfort me.

My control is beginning to slip. I hold on to my composure desperately even as a silent sob shakes my body and my eyes fill until the room is an incoherent blur. A high-pitched whine escapes my tight throat without my consent.

“Oh, MC,” Simeon says gently. He reaches out toward me slowly. I flinch away for a second, still unsure, and he stops. “Would a hug help?” His tone is so sweet, so kind. I feel my face scrunch up and swallow another whimper as I nod.

His arms close around me, warm and strong. I grab him in a hug tight enough I might have had to worry about breaking ribs if he’d been a human instead of a super-powerful angel. I can’t help myself. It’s like I was drowning and now that someone’s thrown me a lifeline I couldn’t let go even if I wanted to. I bury my face in his chest and sob the pain and overwhelming terror away, shaking uncontrollably. He just holds me back, steady and warm and real.

The warmth of another person helps stem the tide of hopelessness and fear and loneliness. He gently rubs a hand up and down my back, murmuring soothing words, the tone of which is much more important than the actual things being said. He’s so warm-hearted I can physically feel it, his mere presence comforting me. I could stay there forever without any qualms.

I hear the door open again and bury myself lower in Simeon’s chest, hoping whoever it is won’t notice me. Simeon pets my hair comfortingly as he turns his head to look at the newcomer.

“You found MC?” Satan’s voice says. I bite my lip, burying my face in Simeon’s chest, not sure what to do. The dregs of the panic attack are fading, but I know I’m a hot mess right now. I’m not sure I want anyone else to see me this way. It would be hard enough to explain to one person, let alone two.

“Yes.” Simeon’s voice is gentle and soft, the tone a person might use around a frightened or injured animal. He strokes my hair comfortingly, a pleasant sensation that is easy to focus on.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Satan’s normally composed voice sounds a bit worried, distressed even. Maybe even a smidge desperate. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard those emotions in his voice before. I feel myself soften toward him, some of my anxiety about him being here fading.

I hear him walking closer and try to take a breath in to say something, but a shuddering sob leftover from all the tears steals it away. I carefully take a few breaths until I’m more confident in my ability to speak.

“MC?” Satan sounds alarmed. I stiffen, worried as my brain tries to come up with a way to explain myself.

Simeon’s hand rubs my back comfortingly. “It’s okay, MC. You’re safe.”

“I, um, I’m fine,” I begin, pulling back from Simeon. Both men frown at me, clearly knowing that isn’t the case. Ugh. My explanation is off to a great start. “It was just a panic attack. I have them sometimes.” I say it lightly, casually, like they aren’t anything to worry about. Not a big deal.

Simeon pulls me back into his chest, holding me tightly, making me squeak in surprise.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you, you know. I’ve said so many times that you can come to me for anything.” Satan says, and I feel a hand rest on my shoulder, warm and steady.

“It must be really hard dealing with them, especially by yourself,” Simeon says. A sob shakes my body at the gentle kindness in both their voices, at the sheer relief of not being alone, the desire for their help, at their warmth and care.

“It is,” I admit, so softly I’m not even sure if they can hear me. Simeon rests his head atop mine, and I feel Satan wrap his arms around me from behind, burying his head in my shoulder. They both hold me tightly and some abstract part of my brain is surprised there’s no arguing about who does and doesn’t get to hug me. I’m grateful for that because I don’t think I could handle it at the moment. Perhaps they sense that, too.

“You’re even braver than I thought, and I already thought you were insanely brave,” Satan whispers in my ear. With that the recently patched dam on my still very tender and sensitive emotions breaks and I started crying all over again, incredibly grateful for both of these wonderful people who care about me so much.

Eventually I turn in their arms so I can give Satan a proper hug, Simeon pulling away slightly but still gently stroking my back to remind me that he’s there for me.

Eventually my tears ease and I pull back from them. I'm embarrassed to see the wet spots I left on both their clothing. “S-sorry about the tear stains,” I say nervously, blushing slightly.

Satan reaches out and wipes the last of my tears away with a thumb. “Don’t worry about that. Clothes can be washed.”

“Yes. You’re a lot more important than clothes,” Simeon adds.

“Thank you,” I say, voice still very soft and delicate.

Satan suddenly pulls me right back into a hug. “Anytime you’re feeling unwell, just let me know. I don’t want you going through this alone. Or going to someone else with it. Come to me.”

I feel a slight chuckle work its way through my body at those words. There it is. But it’s sweet, and it helps me feel like I wouldn’t be such a burden to him if I did come to him when I was struggling.

“You can also come to me if you’re having a hard time. I’m more than happy to help. And I hate the idea of you dealing with this by yourself. I hope you’ll tell me if you are struggling and if there’s anything I can do to help,” Simeon says, a hand resting on my back.

Before they can argue I pull back, grabbing one of their hands in each of mine. “Thank you both. You’re the best.” I turn my gaze between them so they know I’m sincere. And that is when the last of the adrenaline fades and overwhelming exhaustion fills me. I sway slightly, blinking, having trouble staying awake despite the fact that I’m standing.

I feel both of them take one of my arms. “MC? Are you okay?” Satan asks, worry creasing his brow.

“I-yes, just really tired. It happens after a bad panic attack. I need to sleep.” I blink a couple times to myself. “Wait, the next class, I was going to just go in late…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Satan tells me firmly. “We just need to worry about getting you where you can rest and recover.”

“I’ll let Lucifer know you’re feeling sick so you won’t be able to go to the rest of today's classes,” Simeon says.

“But you both need to be there,” I start again.

“Don’t worry about it, we can get the notes later,” Satan insists.

“I, um,” I begin, but Satan and Simeon start pulling me along before I can protest any further.

“I already said don’t worry about it,” Satan insists. “Just let me–us–take care of you.”

I can tell he doesn’t want to include Simeon, but does for my sake. They take me to the infirmary to get a little sleep. I let them, too tired and relieved to be past the panic attack to feel a need to take charge of the situation. I trust the two of them to take care of me.

I fall asleep in an infirmary bed with Satan sitting behind me with a hand gently rubbing up and down my arm and Simeon sitting in front of me, gently stroking my hair.

I wake up vaguely to Lucifer’s voice, stirring slightly and taking a moment before I’m oriented enough to know what direction the voice is coming from. He and Simeon are talking in careful, quiet tones. I frown, hoping that Simeon won’t tell him what happened.

Lucifer catches my bleary gaze. “Next time you aren’t feeling well, just let me know and go rest, don’t try to push yourself too hard. Lord Diavolo wants the exchange students to stay happy and healthy.” I see the worried crease between his eyebrows, telling me he is a lot more concerned than he’s letting on. That his words are about more than Diavolo and his exchange program.

I smile slightly at him and give a barely-coherent, “Mhm,” before exhaustion weighs my eyelids back closed and I’m asleep once more.

Later, when I’m ever so slightly more awake, Satan and Simeon help me home. Satan makes me dinner, Simeon makes me tea, and then I go back to sleep. The next day I wake up feeling relaxed and happy in a way I haven’t for a long, long time.

~End~

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this and found it comforting! If you suffer from anxiety attacks, I hope you are getting the help you need both from a doctor and a therapist, it makes a huge difference in recovery.

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