trigger warnings for anxiety and panic attacks
"I need him with me."
"I don't think they're gonna be too happy about that..."
"I don't care." Geoff grips tighter onto his hand. "I need him. With me. I'm gonna have a panic attack in there Jawn, I'm fuckin' serious."
"I won't say anything," he says quietly. It's not like he's going to have anything to weigh in on while Geoff and Jawn meet with their management. He has no idea how any of that works. Geoff just needs him there. He needs someone to hold his hand when he gets too anxious.
"They're not gonna be happy about this," Jawn warns. He drops his voice slightly, says the next words almost under his breath, "they're not happy with you in general."
"Whatever," Geoff mutters. Awsten feels him tense against him. He squeezes Geoff's hand and leans over to press their shoulders together.
"It's gonna be fine, breathe, okay?" he whispers into Geoff's ear. "They'll understand. It was a fucking suicide attempt, this is serious."
"You don't know them." Geoff's voice is shaking. It sounds slightly high-pitched and he stammers out a couple of the words. Awsten sighs. He knows how this works. He knows Geoff's anxiety well enough to detect the signs of a panic attack and Geoff is well on his way to one.
"They're ready for us." Jawn says. "Let me do the talking, okay? Don't say anything unless you have to."
"It's not you they're mad at." The words sound tight. Choked. Geoff's hand is slick against his. He can feel him trembling.
"It's gonna be okay." Jawn pushes open the door and he lifts his cane over the rise in the floor, the "threshold" between the room and the hallway. Geoff's footsteps are slow. He can hear him taking shaky breaths, mumbling something incoherent to himself under his breath.
Something shifts in Geoff as soon as they're inside the room. There are a flurry of voices, all talking over each other, firing rapid questions at both him and Jawn in tones that are sharp and sound cold. Previously tense, Geoff goes completely rigid against him. The pressure on his hand increases. He's starting to lose feeling in it from how hard Geoff is squeezing. Pressing up against his shoulder, he can feel Geoff's racing heart. It's fast, too fast to be considered close to normal.
This entire situation makes him anxious. Awsten knows that. He's known since he got up to pee at 3:29 am and heard Geoff watching TV in the living room. He's known since last night, when Geoff was moving a little slower, taking a little longer, wrapped in his mind a little tighter, since Geoff's voice broke when he asked if he was ready for this, since he had to change shirts for bed because Geoff's tears had drenched the one he was wearing.
Geoff told him about how their management has treated him, how they berated him for his depression and forced him into situations that triggered so much anxiety. Awsten knows anxiety. He lives anxiety. It's different for everyone, but similar enough that there's the blanket of "know", like everyone whose every dealt with an anxiety disorder could be put into a room and list off all their symptoms and share commonalities with at least one other person.
Geoff shouldn't be this scared of the people who are supposed to help. Management exists to help them further their career and get them the success they deserve. They're not the monsters. They're not supposed to be.
Geoff barks out a dry sob. He swallows, splays his fingers out against the back of Geoff's palm and starts to move his thumb back and forth.
It's not much.
But it needs to be enough.
It needs to be enough to get him through this.
...
"Cancel the tour entirely? Are you serious?"
"It's been booked for months guys, people already have tickets..."
"Give them refunds," Jawn mutters. "He can't play like this."
"You still have three weeks off." The man's voice is loud. He can't look up. He doesn't even know who is speaking. The guy is on their management team and he doesn't even know his name. "Isn't that enough time for him to get himself together?"
"He slit his wrists so bad he needed a fuckin' transfusion!" Jawn snaps. "He can't "get himself together"" He pauses, lifting his hands to make the air quotes. "He needs to rest and recovery and find a good fuckin' therapist to help him deal with his anxiety!"
"He's seemed fine until now."
"If having a panic attack after every show is "fine", then yeah, sure, he's been fine," Jawn shoots back. He pauses and lets out a breath. "He can't do this. Please, don't make him do it. He's barely hanging on. He's been pushed over the edge already. He won't come back next time."
His heart is racing. He can't look up he knows it's all gonna be moving everything's moving the table is blurry it's fading in and out the edges of his vision are starting to go fuzzy it's pumping through his veins it's not blood it's anxiety it's everywhere every time it dies down it comes back it keeps coming back why does this keep happening to him why can't he be normal why is he such a fucking freak why can't he go to a simple meeting without having a panic attack why is he like this why is he like this why is he fucking like this-
"Breathe." He feels it. There's something crawling up his arms there's a bug it's light it's going up farther and farther what the fuck is happening aren't they inside. He bites down on his lip and picks his head up the slightest bit, turns and watches as Awsten continues walking his fingers all the way up his arm. He doesn't understand why until Awsten reaches his shoulder and scoots to the edge of his chair so his hand can reach his back. "You're okay, I promise."
"Geoff?"
There's the anxiety again moremoremore it's so much it's everywhere fuckfuckfuck I can't breathe why are you doing this to me I'm not okay nothing is okay leave me alone don't talk to me don't look at me pleaspleaseplease. "Y-Yeah?"
"Why did you try to kill yourself?"
"Again."
"W-What?"
Are they serious what the fuck how is he supposed to answer that they don't know about Chloe they don't know anything they don't know how is he supposed to tell them they're gonna be so mad at him they're gonna yell please no nonono leave me alone stop I'm sorry I'm sorry I couldn't do it anymore I wish it worked I don't want to be here I don't want to do this I can't do this please stop pleasepleaseplease.
Someone says something he doesn't hear it he can't hear anything he can't see anything it's all moving everything's moving hot too hot red hot cold hot cold it's moving everything is spinning it hurts so bad his chest hurts everything hurts stop please stop how do I make it stop I want it to stop please stop.
It stops.
And so does he.
...
Everything feels heavy.
His eyelids weigh a thousand pounds. His head feels like a rock when he lifts it. He flops down to the mattress mere seconds later, breathing out heavily. Turning to the side, he sees Awsten's hip. He's sitting up against the headboard, flicking at his phone screen. "W-Wha...'appened..."
Awsten looks over at him. Geoff closes his eyes and inhales, feelings Awsten's fingers graze through his hair, rub at his scalp. He hums. "You had a really bad panic attack and passed out. Otto had to carry you outta there."
"The meeting," he gasps out the words. It's like his chest had finally put itself back together, collected all the fragments and fit them like puzzle pieces, dulled the jagged edges so it doesn't cut every time he breathes, and then one hit with a sledgehammer tears everything apart.
He pulls himself up to sit next to Awsten. It's groggy but everything is moving, like he chugged NyQuil and Red Bull at the same time. Fast and slow fast and slow fast and slow.
"Hey. Take a breath. You're fine, everything's fine, okay?" Awsten grips his shoulders and he tries to focus on him. Awsten won't see it either way but everything is moving so fast he needs to focus why can't his eyes work why can't one part of his body do what it's fucking supposed to why is he like this why-
"The meeting," he repeats. "They, I, what-"
"It's okay," Awsten says. "Otto brought you outta there but Jawn stayed to yell at them some more. We just got back here like, ten minutes ago. He hasn't said anything yet. I'll tell you when he does."
"They're so mad at me," he chokes out. It's exhaustion it's anxiety it's nausea it's everything, wrapped into one bomb of a package and tied with a neat little venomous bow. There's so much it's everywhere he doesn't know what to do it won't stop he needs it to stop warmwarmwarm why isn't it stopping it's not stopping he's not warm why isn't he warm pleasepleaseplease.
"Geoff-"
He moves closer to Awsten, presses their bodies together, rests his head on Awsten's shoulder, shoves an arm between the headboard and Awsten's back, tries to inhale. It feels like a rhino is sitting on his chest it's not warm he's not warm nothing is warm it's not working why isn't it working.
Warmwarmwarm please I need it it hurts I need it I need it I need it.
He turns his head and puts a shaky hand on Awsten's shoulder.
And then, in one moment, nosecondthoughtshutupstopitwarmwarmwarm, he leans in, and kisses him.
told ya i like to do Big Things on nice numbered chapters