“It’s okay, you are having a panic attack. You’re safe. It’s okay.” The arms around me loosen and I feel my coat being pulled off me quickly before I hear water running and then two cold, soaked pieces of tissue paper are being pressed against my wrists.
I’m picked up off the floor and pulled between two long muscular legs as whoever they belong to leans against the wall with me in front of them. My sweater is pulled up from my waist, then ripped up over my head and down my arms to release me from it. I’m still crying, still shaking, still gasping for a breath but I feel like I can get more air in now.
I’m pulled back into a hard chest and when two huge arms come around me with just the right amount of pressure I need to ground me, I turn my head and look up to see the face of a man I didn’t think I would ever see again.
“It’s okaymoya dusha.” He says with a softness that doesn’t match his hardness on the outside.
He brings one of his hands up to stroke away the hair that’s stuck to my forehead with sweat and we sit like that for what feels like a lifetime. Him stroking my hair, grounding me with his weight.
Dragna is here.
He’s here holding me, seeing me through one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had and my head is spinning as I try to think about how he knew where I was, why he cares and what he is doing here with me.
“What… what are you… doing here.” I say breathlessly, not moving from the hold he has on me.
“We need to talk. I can take you home and I’ll come in and we can talk properly there. For now, just stay with me here for another few minutes. I want to make sure you’re okay before you try to stand up.” He replies as his told on me tightens just slightly.
I find myself leaning into him a little more, whether it’s from how lifeless and drained I feel, or because I’m glad he’s the one here with me I don’t know, but I do it anyway without thinking of any consequences.
He rests his chin on the top of my head and sighs. I close my eyes, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat against my back, using it to soothe myself and after a few minutes my breathing begins returning to normal.
“I was here with someone.” I say quietly.
“I know. I saw him sitting where your phone and purse were sitting, but it’s just us here now. He left.” His voice vibrates through me and I can’t help but shudder which makes him hold me tighter.
“Did you scare him off?” I ask and it’s quiet between us for a few seconds before he responds.
“Maybe.” His deep voice hits me again and I just want to stay like this forever.
“How did you know where I was and how to help me through a panic attack?” I ask as my breathing begins to even out a little more.
He takes a deep breath in and beings to rub circles with his thumb on my wrist. I look down at the movement and notice how busted up his knuckles are. “Dragna, your hands, what the hell happened.” I ask before he can respond to my first question. He looks down over my shoulder at his hands before cursing something in Russian.
“I was helping some of the guys train for upcoming fights.” He says but I can tell he’s holding something back.
“And I came by to speak to you when you finished work. I saw you through the window. As for the panic attacks, I used to get them when I was younger. My grandfather taught me ways to cope with them. Different techniques to shock your nervoussystem out of them. Ways to breathe when I felt myself slipping into anger and fear.”
Him telling me this has slapped me up the face to the fact that I don’t really know who this man is. This man who came to my rescue like some knight to help me, who’s made himself a presence in my life, who screams danger. I have no idea what I could be getting myself into with him.
He continues rubbing circles on my wrist as if this is where we both belong, him cradling me and me letting him in.
“Do you think you could walk to the car?” He asks and I nod. He holds me by my shoulders as he moves to come round in front of me. Keeping one hand on my shoulder so I don’t fall back against the wall, his other hand grabs mine and he pulls me up to stand slowly. I rock a little unsteadily and not just from getting my bearings after the panic attack, but from him touching me too. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me against him.
“I’ll grab your coat and sweater. Don’t move.” He almost whispers while looking down at me, deep into my eyes. He crouches down, sliding his hands down the outside of my legs not breaking the connection of touching me and he picks up my things with one hand, the other still gripping my calf. He stands again, so slowly, bringing his hand back up my leg to settle on my hip.
I look up at him and notice the pain in his eyes. His deep, brown eyes, so dark they are almost black.
“Willow.” It’s another whisper while his hand comes to drift up my spine sending what feels like a current of electricity over my whole body.
“Dragna.” I reply back with a whisper of my own.
“I’m sorry.” He says it so quietly I almost think I imagined him saying anything at all, but the sorrow on his face matcheshis words and for whatever reason I know he really means it and that him leaving me the way he did has caused him pain too.
“It’s okay.” I say, bringing my head down and closing my eyes. I clutch his shirt in my fists like it’s my only lifeline, still feeling dizzy from everything.
With one hand running softly up and down my spine, I hear him drop my belongings and with his now free hand, he brings it to my chin to tilt my face back to his gaze. I open my eyes to look at him again and when I do, he slides his palm to cup my face just like how he did before leaving me on my doorstep.
“I shouldn’t be doing this.” He says softly.
