The Bad Boys Angel

Let Her Be The One To Show You

Song: So, Ed Sheeran

Zanthus' POV

I wake up at a tapping noise, on I'm not quite sure where it's coming from. I raise my hands to the back of my eyes and attempt to rub the sleep out of them as best I can. My back is aching and I feel more uncomfortable to normal.

It's only when I truly awaken from the delirious haze that I take in my surroundings and I realize I'm still in my car. I vaguely remember passing out at some point during my attack. It's not an uncommon attribute of my attacks, though it has been two months and some since I actually fainted from anxiety alone.

The tapping is now clear as it rings through my ears, and I am now able to identify it as one coming from the window beside me. I look up to find an unhappy yet concerned looking Xander culprit of my waking. I can't help but feel a bit more at ease to know Xander was here with me, though also not at all because I already am aware he's going to demand an explanation.

I sigh to myself, certainly not mentally prepared to go over the belongings of last night's' events, but I truly never will be. It's best for me to get it out now rather let the wound sit open on my own. I wipe the damp remnants of anxiousness from my palms of my jeans and proceed to grab the door handle, which Xander takes as an indication to step back, allowing me room to free myself from the vehicle I spent the night in.

The minute I get a foot on the ground I feel myself being enclosed in the familiar arms of my eternal best friend. I'm a bit taken back at first because I really don't know why he's hugging me so firmly to himself when he saw me just yesterday.

Despite this, I find my half a brain to react and wrap my arms around him, welcoming the long overdue comfort I desperately need. It's not until I taste the salt of my own tears that I realize I'm crying. More so, it's not until I feel Xander holding me at an almost bone-crushing extent that I recognize the body shaking tremors rolling from me.

Xander doesn't comment on the fact that I am proper falling apart in his arms but just holds me tighter by the second. I can barely hear the words he's murmuring into my ear, he sounds as if he's underwater, everything does.

My breathing picks up and my chest starts to restrict and I can't help but cry more knowing I am breaching another attack. Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just suffer from the average issues of every other bloody eighteen-year-old boy? Why do I have to live this way?

Why do I have to be so messed up?

I fear that I may end up fainting again if I go on how I am. My face is undoubtedly drenched in tears, I can't catch hold of my own breathing, aching heaves are meeting my body and they're getting worse by the minute. It's so exhausting, so uncomfortable, painful even.

"Remember that one day, back in primary school. We were just seven, so it was year two. We had been asked to make a drawing of something that was important to you, and write a few sentences about whatever it was." Xander speaks softly, one of his arms now released a bit from me and rubbing soothingly up and down my back.

"Everyone drew their cat, their dog, favourite foods, all sorts of things like that. It's quite waggish when remembering the fact that you and I ended up drawing each other." He says to me, a small chuckle falling from his lips interrupting his story momentarily. "You wrote about how you thought my shoes were cool and I was good at football, even though I was absolutely rubbish. You said you loved me and you would be my best mate forever." He continues and I can't help the fondness that spreads in my chest at the memory.

"I wrote and said you were like a superhero even if you didn't think so. I said I loved you and your bad jokes weren't really that bad. But we both know that's absolutely incorrect as well." He laughs a bit and a choked one comes from me as well. "In my last sentence, I promised that we'd be brothers until the day we died." He adds on as his tone turns a bit heavier to before.