“When I was twelve I was diagnosed with anxiety, I had a panic attack after a practice and my brother rushed me to the hospital, he thought I was having an asthma attack or something, even though I’ve never had asthma. The hospital confirmed that I was okay physically, so they sent a psych doctor down to examine me, and after a ten minute conversation he knew what was going on.”
August sits patiently, listening to what I have to say with no judgment on his face. He’s genuinely just trying to understand.
“For the first two years, the anxiety attacks were constant, and they didn’t have a specific trigger, so I went to therapy. We worked on ways to help me cope, hence the whole fingers on my heart beat thing” I say, motioning to my neck. “Eventually I figured out my trigger but I didn’t share it with anyone.”
He nods his head, finally understanding what I was doing earlier tonight. “Do you mind me asking what the trigger was?” His voice is quiet, just loud enough to hear over the wind.
“Well it has a lot to do with my parents. It’s a long and complicated story that I really don’t want to get into right now, but it had a big role in what caused all of this to start in the first place. I love them to death, and they always meant well, just not the best relationship between us.” My voice is shaky, I’m trying really hard not to cry right now and I think August can tell because he pulls me into his side and holds me close.
I can hear his heart beating, it’s pumping so fast. “Anyways, I dealt with it for years and it got a lot better, I haven’t had attacks on the regular since I was about seventeen. They don’t happen out of the blue anymore either, there's almost always a trigger.”
“What triggered you tonight then?”
I freeze. How on earth am I supposed to explain to him that I was triggered by the thought of them figuring out who my brother is?
The answer is,I can’t.
“I was overwhelmed, like I said before, I felt backed into a corner.” I look down at my fingers, picking at the skin around my nail bed.
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea Claire.” His voice turns raspy, as if he’s holding back tears of his own.
“No it’s okay.” I don’t want him to feel bad, he didn’t actually do anything wrong. “You didn’t know, no one did. I can’t expect you guys to ignore any curiosity you have. I’m not mad or upset with anyone, I just needed to get out of the room.” I grab his hand, reassuring him that I mean every word, he doesn’t deserve to feel guilty over something he didn’t know.
“Thank you for caring, but you seriously can’t tell anyone else. I’ll tell the guys when I’m ready. I just don’t want them to see me any differently, or feel like they have to be extra careful around me. I can function as a regular human, but a lot of people think I can’t.”
All I can do at this point is hope to god that he won’t tell the guys, I don’t know what I would do if he did.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Just know that I’m here for you, and I don’t see you any differently.” His soft eyes and smile are all the reassurance I need. He puts up this big front that he’s an uncaring ass hole but in reality he’s a big softie. “And the others won’t either… even Lucas, who acts like he doesn’t care about anything.”
“You know, you’re a really sweet guy when you want to be” I chuckle.
He sends me a death glare, “if you ever tell anyone, I’ll shun you for life.” His face melts into a smile and I shove his shoulder, feeling at peace for the first time all night.
five
LUCAS
Drinking on a Wednesday night probably wasn’t my best idea. Waking up with a splitting headache and wanting to puke my guts out is my karma.
I remember most of last night, and while it’s a little fuzzy, the memories are still there. Claire had a moment, we were told that she was fine but it was very clear that she wasn’t. Not onlythat,but there was no bruise on her hand, and there definitely should’ve been after I slammed the door on it yesterday.
I throw on a t-shirt and make my way downstairs, only to be met with my roommates sitting around our table, which is completely filled with food. I stand in my place for a moment, still unnoticed by the rest of the house, as I try to figure out who cooked all this shit.
I know it wasn’t August, you have to beg him to make you food, and the rest of them can’t cook for shit. Then my eyes trail to Claire, she probably did all of this.
“Oh hey, I made breakfast for everyone. Figured you guys would need it after last night” she laughs. Her chipper tone irritates me, so I just grunt in response and take the empty seat at the table.
Claire comes up beside me and sets down a bottle of gatorade and an Advil, “seeing as you didn’t take the opportunity to make a jab at me, I’m assuming you need this.”
She isn't wrong, but fuck her for being so observant.
Ido, however, take the opportunity to be observant myself. I try to be discreet in my actions, checking out her hand to see if there’s any sign of what happened yesterday. When I see that there’s no mark or bruise, I have to mask my shock. Nothing but smooth, even toned skin.
“Claire?” I question.
“What’s up?” She asks, sitting down with the rest of us.
“Why isn’t there a bruise on your hand?”
