one last time

iii

Hans awakened enveloped in harsh, warm lighting. Had he turned the bathroom light on before he passed out? He couldn't remember, his mind had been too pumped with adrenaline to properly recall anything from that moment. How long have I been out?

Something stirred in the hallway. The adrenaline response was back- he mustn't have been out cold for too long, because the cold sweat and nausea returned almost instantaneously. Did someone come looking for me? He was certain he had locked the door before settling in, and he distinctly remembered telling his associates not to bother him for the rest of the evening. He couldn't bear to imagine someone entering and seeing him in a state lacking his usual composure and confidence.

What if someone got wind of my plans and managed to break into my building to stop me? Hans' mind was racing, his overthinking paving way to even more irrational thoughts. He let out a muffled sob.

Hans froze as a sudden knock came from the bathroom door.

"It's just me. May I come in?" you ask.

Scheiße. Hans scrambled to regain composure, flattening his suit jacket, and tightening his tie. He stood up to face his reflection in the mirror. No one can see me like this. Not even her.

"I'm just finishing up, give me a moment," he managed to croak. He ran his wrists under cold water, begging his autonomic nervous system to cooperate.

"Come in," he ordered, compulsively blotting his arms up and down with the hand towel.

You entered cautiously, balancing on your hip an elegant silver tray baring a mug of tea and glass of lemon slices.

"I brought you something, I thought it might help you sleep tonight," you set the tray down on the marble countertop.

"H-help? Why would you think I need help sleeping?" Hans' sneered. You were taken aback by his hostile response.

"I just thought that since tomorrow was the... big day you could use a little-"

"I will greet tomorrow morning just the same as any other," he cut you off, "I am simply doing my job just the same as yesterday or today. You know that."

Hans was avoiding your gaze, instead peering vacantly into his reflection in the mirror. You noticed his eyes were glazed over. You stepped closer and raised a delicate hand with the intention of turning his face to get a closer look, but the moment your fingertips grazed his stubble he flinched. No, he didn't just flinch, he flew backward, breathing as if he had just ran a marathon, and darting widened eyes around the bathroom as if the patterned tiles on the wall were out to hunt him.

"Hans..." his nostrils flared and he backed into the shower door as you attempted to close the distance between the two of you.

"Hans baby, are you okay?" you stop midway, making note of his compromising position and realizing he may not want you there at the moment. The man was having a full-blown panic attack to the nines. You wanted to comfort him, but you didn't want to bruise his ego. You could see him struggling to contain the war inside of himself while you were there- you didn't want to make him feel any worse than he already seemed to be feeling, and while you two were extremely close, you figured he might just need some space.

"It's okay, I can leave if you'd like," you face the doorway.

"No," comes a soft response- a whimper- "please stay."