only you | camren one-shots

basketball sucks || au

A/N: a kiss cam au nobody asked for. 

contains extreme anxiety.

*

She doesn't want to be here. She really, absolutely doesn't want to be here. There are so many people, too many people, and she doesn't have any space to herself. She can't breathe. Why are the seats so goddamn close to each other?

This – the people, the lack of space, literally everything – is a reminder of why it is, exactly, that she doesn't ever go out to watch sports events live. Not football, not baseball, and especially not basketball. Because, on top of everything, they're inside a building right now, and the air is all sticky, and–

She can't fucking breathe. Surely on the edge of an anxiety attack, she stares right ahead. Doesn't pay attention to the game, the players, the people on the other side of the court. All she does is sit there, frozen. Her eyes are expressionless. Her face, too. She can't process anything right now, is too focused on her breathing. She has to concentrate. Get it together. Or she may end up making a fool of herself, hyperventilating in the middle of a fucking basketball game. It's going be the news tomorrow if she isn't careful.

Not that she's famous or anything... but the press has its ways. And she's going to be all over the local section if she doesn't focus right now and stop the attack before it even begins.

So she closes her eyes and tries to remember something her therapists have told her. Tries to remember anything. She's almost crying now. Her brain seems to be empty. But– fuck, she's got think of something. Alright, so, the pressure she's putting on herself isn't exactly helping but–

Counting.

She needs to count down. Starting with one hundred. And just– it goes like this: she takes a breath, counts down for ten seconds, and exhales. Repeats until she's reached zero.

She can do that.

Right?

Yeah. She has to do it.

Eyes still closed, finally managing to drown out the game and cheers and her friends chattering, she takes a deep breath. Starts counting. One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. Ninety-six. Ninety-five. Ninety-four. Ninety-three. Ninety-two. Ninety-one.

Ninety.

She opens her eyes, looks up at the ceiling, breathes out. Closes her eyes again, inhales. Back to the counting.

When she reaches seventy, after a while, she feels that she's a lot calmer already. Good. She continues on, though, counts down to forty.

Then she opens her eyes for good.

And she's hit with some other reason she hates this. This– as in, sports events. Everything about them. Okay, yeah, basketball games in particular.

The kiss cams.

Of course she's lucky enough to have one directed at her right now.

Her and Lauren.

Shit.

She blinks rapidly, her breathing erratic again. This was not supposed to happen. None of this. She can't even get out of it now. Can't leave. If she does, she'll make it into the papers after all.

If only her friends had listened to her. Why don't Dinah, Normani and Ally ever listen to her? Fucking hell, she should have never agreed to this. Why'd she–