dichotomy ; gawsten

eighteen

this is so long and so sad i am so sorry. i was gonna cut it in half but i decided not to and now it's an ocean of agony o o p s 

trigger warnings for anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of suicide, depression, and self-harm

He finds himself on Jawn's couch twenty minutes later, nursing a mug of hot chocolate while his wet clothes are drying in the other room. He lifts it to his lips and takes sip. The liquid runs through his body and settles at the bottom of his stomach like a warm blanket.

"You good?" Jawn asks. The couch dips as he takes a seat with a mug of his own.

"Yeah," Geoff says.

"Then I...I think we should talk." Jawn pointedly looks away from him, makes an obvious effort to stare down into his lap. "Why didn't you tell me, Geoff? I had no idea... Why did you let me hurt you so bad and not say anything?"

Geoff swallows. He leans forward and sets his mug on the floor with a clink. His heart is already starting to race. He pulls at his sleeves, drags them past his wrists and over the base of his palms, and slips his thumb between his skin and the fabric. He feels around until he reaches a bump in the road of his wrist and presses down with his nail. "I don't- I guess I just." He's feeling his throat start to close up again why is this happening why can't he get through a simple conversation like a normal person why is he such a fuck up why is he like this whywhywhy. "I-I didn't wanna piss you off anymore."

"Geoff..." Jawn's voice is soft and his tone is gentle and Geoff doesn't remember the last time he's heard that. His vision is getting blurry and his hands are starting to shake.

"I'm sorry," he gasps. "I didn't want you to be mad at me." The words are tumbling out faster than he can stop them. It's like someone opened the floodgates; they can't be closed. "I didn't wanna lose you."

He covers his face with his hands as a sob comes up his throat. Trying to staunch it has him coughing, choking on his breath as pain floods his throat and chest. His hands are slipping off his face, saturated with liquid. This wasn't how this was supposed to go but he can't help it he's a mess he can't do anything about it he'll never be anymore than a goddamn wreck no wonder Jawn got tired of him.

"Geoff? Geoff, hey, it's okay. You're okay, everything's okay. You needa breathe, alright? C'mon, you've got this. Breathe. With me. C'mon."

He inhales. The breath comes too quickly and he coughs violently, hand on his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain is spreading through his chest and abdomen slowly, a tsunami style wave enveloping everything in its path. It takes another few deep breaths and Jawn murmuring more sweet nothings against his ear for him to feel like the bands around his chest are loosening and his heart is not about to explode.

"You okay?" Jawn asks. He squeezes his hands – Geoff isn't sure when he grabbed them but Jawn is holding both his hands, on his knees, staring up at him – and pulls his lip in with his teeth. "I'm so sorry."

Geoff shakes his head. His body feels weighted, like he's Atlas, carrying the entire sky on his shoulders. He always feels heavy after a panic attack, like he's moving in slow motion and living his life through molasses. "Not...your fault."

"I'll get you some water dude, seriously, are you okay?" Jawn's talking too fast. The words are all flying around his head. There's an ache behind his eyes and everything feels fuzzy.

"No," he says weakly, reaching an arm out. "M'okay."

"Geoff, seriously, you just-"

When Jawn gets close enough, he stretches forward and pulls him into a hug. He buries his face in the crook of Jawn's neck and breathes in. The bands are getting looser and looser. "Just stay with me. Please."