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The drumming of his heart echoed in his throat as the boy laid his head on the wheel, in between his hands.
It's just like in class, there is no reason for me to be more nervous. I'll be seated between them, I don't need to panic.
But as much as he insisted, the anxious burn refused to dissipate.
It was the last day of class before the break and exam period that followed, which meant it was also the day of the play. Because one of his teachers had a conference, he only had class in the morning, contrary to Blake who had class all day, so they agreed that the guide would send him to his car so he could go home and they would meet back up before the play, on the parking lot.
And that was where Dean was, in his car, overwhelmed by the notion that he was about to be surrounded by so many people. But there was no reason for it. He spent the whole semester in a room full of people, he even spent a few weeks working at the drama club. There was no reason for his anxiety to be acting out. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep he had been under.
Ever since he had first gathered the courage to touch Blake, rest was askew. During the day, every time he recalled the feeling of Blake's hand on his or his soft touch on his cheek, a pleasant giddiness would feel him, however, that wasn't the same at night. At night, that giddiness would very quickly turn into fear. Fear because everything was just going to well, fear because it couldn't be that easy – although for him was anything but. Fear because he knew how much he had to trust Blake to be able to touch him and that amount of trust was scary. He tried to tell himself that it was Blake he was talking about, the person that he considered his best friend, whereas before he never thought possible to have acquaintances.
But it wasn't that simple.
What if Blake went away? What if when Blake had enough money for the bike he quits and they wouldn't be together like they currently were? What if something happens and Blake decides that they are done?
Dean didn't think he would be able to deal with that.
Of course, after these thoughts broke the barrier of studied peacefulness, it was impossible for him to sleep, too afraid of the voices and memories that awaited him on the other side. He was so afraid he might have another sleepwalking episode that he had begun checking if the doors were locked multiple times before sleeping and hiding the keys the best he could. He knew that was worthless, his sleepwalking-self had escaped far more difficult situations before, but the least he could do was make it as hard as possible.
Fortunately, he had yet to wake up out of his bed, as most days he would wake up cradling the soft bunny keychain on his hands, even when he didn't remember grabbing it from the bedside table.
A knock on the window caused his head to shoot up with such velocity, he felt dizzy for a few seconds. When the nauseous feeling subsided, he turned his attention to the window, from where Blake watched him with a worried look.
In an attempt at hiding his anxiety, Dean showed a small smile, but of course, Blake wasn't fooled, pointing at the door handle as if asking if for permission to enter.
Trying to conceal a deep breath, Dean pressed a button that audibly unlocks the doors.
As Blake entered the vehicle, Dean had the chance to glance at his friend, dressed casually with a black bomber jacket over a white hoodie with some black writing, as well as black denim pants and sneakers.
When Blake looked back at him, he was quick to divert his gaze, staring the wheel without actually seeing anything.
- Are you ok?
Blake's voice was so soft that Dean couldn't bring himself to lie.
- Just a bit nervous. – he admitted in a hushed tone, forcing a shaky smile. – But it's absurd, I don't have reason to be like this.
- Don't minimize it. – Blake was quick to say, turning in the seat so he would be facing the one in the driver's seat. – The whole thing of an anxiety disorder is that it doesn't need a reason all the time.
Still not looking at the other, Dean nodded weekly before supporting his head on the wheel once again.
- You don't need to go if you don't want to.
- No. We all worked hard for it, especially Collin. – without lifting his head, he turned to Blake, showing a corner smile. – I want to go.
A smile took Blake's lips as well.
- That's my bunny.
Dean chuckled at the nickname, finally raising his head, his reaction causing Blake's smile to increase. The psychology student leaned a bit closer, slowly raising his hand to the heir's, slowly enough to give Dean the chance at retreating. Not only did Dean not pull away but also moved his hand forward, meeting the other's halfway. A few seconds later, and although Dean wasn't sure who was responsible for it, the men's fingers intertwined for themselves, with the immediate consequence of the wave of heat on his cheeks.
Blake snorted amusingly at the reaction.
Dean just couldn't avoid it. They had been friends for a while now, but for him every demonstration of proximity was still new, intimidating and out of his comfort zone.
The burning and dizzying sensation when Blake held his hand still persevered, leaving him somewhat tense and with a racing pulse that he had to take a few deep breaths to control. Regardless of these symptoms, Dean was honestly astonished that he was actually able to do something like that. Apart from hand-holding, there had been a few times when Blake had asked permission to touch his face, even if sometimes just for a swift caress that didn't reach a complete second.
Dean watched as the person who held his hand arched an eyebrow, looking him up and down on his seat.
– Is there something wrong? – the heir question looking down at himself.
– I'm not used to seeing you dressed like that.
Only upon hearing it pointed out did Dean remember that his outfit was indeed more of a statement than his day-to-day choices.
Since he had had the chance to go home for the afternoon he had changed into a taupe turtle neck, black pants and a long camel jacket that matched the brown boots. Of course, if he kept sweating like he was, the choice of colour would prove unfortunate.
– You look like a rich dude or something like that. – Blake pointed out, causing Dean to hide a smile by pursing his lips. When the man noticed the irony in his words, he chuckled, using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. – Right, my bad. Still, you look good.
Dean smiled sweetly, giving a timid nod.
– Thank you.
The importance of a good presentation was something Dean had been introduced to since he was a child, so by his current age, it was instinctive for him. Not that his parents were futile in the slightest, but in their line of work - which Dean was expected to not only follow but lead in the future - the manner in which one presents themselves was important. Besides that, many of his previous therapists, including Miss Pam currently, would suggest taking the time to take care of himself in the hopes of aiding his self-esteem issues.
Even enjoying presenting himself the best way possible, Dean had never considered that people around him would appreciate it, but having Blake complimenting him on it made him thankful he had taken his time picking that outfit.
As he looked at his friend smiling at him with their hands still entwined, the panic that had previously been slowly consuming him began to wash away.
Blake would be with him, everything would be alright.
When the two boys arrived at the amphitheatre there was still no public in sight, with only members of the club walking around, getting everything ready. Their early arrival had not been a coincidence, of course. The ticket booth wouldn't open until half an hour later but, because they were part of the volunteer team, they needed only to check in their names to be allowed early entry.
Like clockwork, as soon as the men set foot in the area, Collin came up to them, already in makeup and costume.
Dean could only be surprised by their friend's new appearance. He had seen some of the fittings but the complete look had a totally different effect.
Although Collin had always shown interest in everything beauty, this style specifically was new. The usual shirts, sweaters and patterned button-ups had been replaced by a faded plaid pattern-matching suit of grey tones, with a camel vest, over a button up, which matched the pocket square. Finally, the dark grey tie, brown polished dress shoes and large round glasses finished the vintage-inspired outfit.
Just the look alone began the transformation from Collin to the character – whose name Dean had learnt to be Sebastian -, but the excited smile he showed as soon as he reached them promptly turned him back to himself.
– Hey guys! You came early.
Glancing at Blake the heir noted he himself wasn't the only endeared by the clear excitement of their friend, both smiling affably at Collin.
– We came to choose seats. – the explanation was brief but the other seemed to understand. – Nervous?
– Kind of, but I can't wait for it! The others are coming later, right?
Blake nodded.
– Yeah, they have to buy the tickets still.
– And Mark?
– He is also waiting for the tickets. Tim is coming too.
The mention of an unexpected attendee widened Collin's smile.
– Really?
– Of course. – Blake assured, involving the shorter one's shoulder. – It's been a while since you were so excited about a show, we couldn't lose it.
Collin's trademark adorable smile was directed up at Blake.
– Thank you, guys. – he then turned his smile to Dean. – Especially you Dean. First the volunteering and now this... – the boy gestured broadly to the number of seats. – I know it's really hard for you.
A corner of the heir's lips pulled in an awkward smile as he rubbed his ear just to have something to do with his hands.
- It's nothing, I'm happy I was able to help.
The conversation was cut short when Collin's name was called, causing all of them to look behind the actor, seeing a girl with a headset signing to him that he was needed. Collin responded with a thumbs up but didn't move right away, looking back to his friends instead.
- You can seat anywhere you want, except for the front row because it's reserved for the club's sponsors and University Board members. – he talked as he began stepping away, still facing them. – If you need anything, call me!
Once Collin turned around and rushed towards the stage, the two men began their search for the best spot in the room. Usually, Dean would prefer to seat on the last row but that could hinder the group's watching experience, so they ended up agreeing on the second to the first row, where Dean would seat on the penultimate chair further away from the central corridor. Having his back turned to that many people was unsettling, but it was unlikely someone would reach for him and the distance between rows assured it wouldn't happen by accident.
- And I seat there so no one can bump into you if they go around. – Blake says, pointing to the last chair of the row and then looking at him. – What do you think?
Dean agreed with a nod.
Movement from the central door caught their attention, watching as a group of people began to walk in, talking amongst themselves. Apparently, the ticket booth had finally opened.
Seeing that the place would soon be flooded by people, the two men opted to occupy their seats. A buzz was heard not even a minute later and Blake pulled from his phone.
- May is saying they are coming in.
Both looked back at the door from where their friends promptly appeared. Blake waved at the group, quickly being spotted by Tim.
When the group reached them, Dean had already stood up to greet them, out of a polite habit. In between conversations and laughter, they took their seats, with Dean ending up seating between Blake on one side, as planned, and May on the other.
- So, DeDe – she called in a joking tone and Dean had to press his lips into a line in an attempt at controlling his smile. – have you seen Collin acting yet?
- I've seen him going over a few lines, but never acting a scene.
- Then you are in for a surprise.
Keeping his smile, he arched his eyebrows.
- Is he that talented?
The girl nodded, crossing her legs and Dean was thankful upon noticing her effort not to budge into him as she moved.
- Not that I'm ever going to tell this to him, but he's really talented. I don't remember the last time he didn't get the part he auditioned for.
While the following twenty minutes were filled with conversations between the group of friends, Dean would periodically look behind discreetly, struggling not to let the increasing number of people get to him. By the time the lights dimmed and a woman he recognized as the professor in charge of the Drama Society appeared from the curtains on stage, there was barely any free room there.
The heir attempted to focus on what the professor was saying, clapping along with everyone else as she thanked all the sponsors and members of the board, but his mind was scarily aware of every body surrounding him. Regardless of his nervous state, he did his best to conceal it. He didn't want to spoil his friend's experience.
The woman eventually left the stage with a round of applause and the curtains opened to the scene of a little girl's room. Very quickly, Dean noticed the model of the house and he wouldn't deny the pride he felt upon seeing his work being the central piece of the first scene.
Blake also noticed the model, leaning slightly to him and speaking in a whisper.
- You made a great job on that.
Dean smiled softly, keeping his eyes on the stage.
- Thank you.
- Maybe, in the end, they will let you keep it.
He glanced at his friend, amused.
- It's going to be destroyed during the play.
The news caused Blake's eyes to go round.
- What? Really?
- Collin told me a while ago.
The dark-haired guy crinkled his nose.
- That's a shame, you worked hard on it.
- I don't mind. – he assured, glancing at the stage with a smile. – I'm glad I could help.
His comment shaped a smile into Blake's lips, but the man stayed silent.
As the play went on, the entire group was absorbed by the story, following the troubled life of the protagonist, from her youth to her mother's death which caused her father to slowly descend into alcoholism, until she was able to work her way to a strong-willed journalist. At her workplace, she met her manager - a sarcastic man named Philip who used a cold exterior to hide how timid he actually was, but has a heart of gold - and her boss, a stern but charming man, played by Collin.
As soon as their friend stepped onto the scene, Dean was completely hooked by his performance. There was no doubt May had told the truth regarding Collin's talent, as the normally childish but adorable boy seemed to transform on the stage. There was no longer Collin, only Sebastian in front of them. He might have not been the main character, but he truly stole the show.
After a long while, the curtains closed down for a short break, giving the public the chance to go to the bathroom, talk between them or stretch their legs.
Snapped out of the illusion of the play, Dean blinked slowly, adjusting his eyes to the returning lights. Now back to the real world, he noticed he had been holding in the need to go to the bathroom. Looking back at the rest of the public, he saw the number of people who made their way towards the bathroom zone, so the idea quickly died down.
- Is there something wrong? – Blake asked.
Dean looked at the man and smile softly.
- I need to go to the bathroom, but there are too many people right now.
- Oh. – the man turned back, checking for himself. – Yeah, you are right.
- I will just go during the play.
- I will go with you.
The heir shook his head at the suggestion.
- There is no need, if I go after the break there won't be many people around. – he assured, smiling in an attempt at minimizing his friend's worries. – I will be okay.
Blake looked like he was about to say something when his attention was diverted down. Dean assumed he had felt his phone buzz, seeing as he grabbed the device, frowning lightly when seeing what was on it.
– Hey Mark. – he called leaning in such a way he could make contact with his friend. – Collin texted me saying they are having a problem backstage and is asking if we could go help.
Being called, Mark halted whatever he was saying – that was undoubtedly annoying Tim – getting up immediately.
– Then, let's go.
– I can help. – Dean announced, making a move to leave his seat.
– I don't think that's a good idea. – Blake stopped him, getting up himself. – The backstage must be chaos right now.
Dean let his body fall back into the seat at the other's words, realizing that Blake was right and that it would be too risky for him to go into such a hectic environment. With a nod from the heir, his friend smiled at him and then signalled to Mark for them to go.
Dean followed their path for a bit until a package appeared in his frame of vision and a strong sweet smell invaded his nostrils. Glancing down at the gummy package and then to May, she looked him with a smile, wiggling the plastic bag.
- Gummy bears? Tim is offering.
With a closed smile, Dean accepted the offer, retrieving two colourful gummy bears after leaning forward so he could see the owner of said sweets and give him a thankful nod.
Minutes later, the gummy bears almost gone, the lights dimmed down as well as the conversations on the public, and the curtains were pulled. However, neither Mark nor Blake had returned.
The play resumed, but Dean wasn't focused on it. Drumming his fingers on his tight, he periodically checked the audience behind, until he was certain most people had already returned to their seats.
Seeing his chance, he leaned ever so slightly towards May, whispering that he would be back after going to the bathroom.
- Do you want one of the guys to go with you? – she whispered back. – I can ask.
- Thank you, but there's no need.
A soft wrinkle appeared on May's forehead, clearly not sure about letting him go alone, but still obliged with a nod. Sending her an assuring smile, Dean got up and left his seat as quickly as possible as to not inconvenience the audience behind him.
The man followed the corridor, towards the side door.
Luckily, he had gotten to know that place during volunteering, so he knew his way around.
Carefully closing the door behind him, the voices and sounds of the play left behind, Dean hurried through the hallway that led to the bathroom. For a few moments, the only sound heard was his steps echoing on the cold walls, until a variety of voices joined. His chest tightened and his fist clenched, but he was able to force himself to take a big breath and calm down.
You've walked around alone before, calm down.
Everything is alright, there is no need for you to freak yourself out with no reason.
The voices got a bit louder, and his breath hitched momentarily.
Stay calm, there are many hallways around here.
The bathroom is just around the corner.
Although the internal monologue was having somewhat of an effect, his hand instinctively made its way to the pants pocket, searching for a particular bunny keychain.
Feeling the pocket empty, he frowned, looking down and checking the other.
Didn't I bring it? I remember grabbing before leaving. Maybe it's in my jacket.
Searching from pocket to pocket for the vital trinket, Dean's head was so embroidered in his quest, that he didn't realise a group of boys who approached from the side corridor.
Unaware and innocently distracted, he rounded the corner.
And he could no longer breathe.
The boy at the front of that group was just about to turn when Dean appeared, smashing his shoulders in the process. Given Dean's quick pace the impact was of considerable force, enough for both of their bodies to be propelled backwards.
The heir widened his eyes, the sore feeling on his shoulder very quickly spreading through his body in a wave of panic and the air balling up on his throat. The excruciating notion of the impending panic attack stabbed at his chest.
Oh no. Please no, not here. I beg you, not here.
Feeling his senses shut down one by one and his mind going numb, he wasn't even able to process the other man who massaged his own shoulder, frowning at him.
- You could at least say sorry!
But Dean wasn't hearing as his legs began to weaken. Holding the affected area, he looked to the side, spotting the bathroom.
He had to get there before things got worse.
But his body didn't move, frozen in place. His body was slowly being consumed by a hurt that wasn't there and his mind clouded by blurry images he couldn't make out but that terrified him.
- Hey dude, he's talking to you. – another from the trio said in a menacing tone, stepping towards him.
The threat of proximity caused his eyes to fill with tears, but his legs finally moved, shakily beginning the excruciating walk away from the situation. His chest was moving up and down at an alarming rate, however, no air seemed to be assimilated.
The faded glare of hope towards escape was promptly shattered by screeching pain when Dean felt his wrist forcefully surrounded by a hand. He was screaming inside, but no sound came out as distorted voices occupied his mind.
"Come here you little shit!"
- Hey! You have to apologize!
Dean had no recollection of the following second, but when he came to himself, his wrist was free but his elbow hurt and the guy leaned over himself, with his hands over his stomach, groaning.
The panicked man's eyes grew even larger when he realized what he had done, but as he felt his mind going blank, he knew he had to get away before something even worse happened to them or himself.
However, the other two boys didn't seem willing to let him go now that he had attacked their friend.
Dean heard fast steps and then a strong push that propelled him towards the wall, crashing against it. The place where he had been pushed hurting just like his shoulder and wrist, with that pain quickly spreading to his mind in the form of terrifying flashes of images and sounds.
"I'm going to have some fun with you."
- Hey! – a screamed came from somewhere, but Dean was no longer able to see. – Leave him alone!
"You can scream all you want, no one will be coming for you."
- He started!
"The harder you fight the worst is going to get."
As commotion happened behind the fallen man, tears poured out and his chest hurt so much he felt like his heart was being ripped out.
Help.
"Guys, look, a crying ashtray."
Please, help.
"Why are you crying already? We are just getting started."
Blake, help.
Somehow, he was able to get on his feet holding on to the wall and, next thing he knew, he was inside of the bathroom. What sounded like a loud argument barely being recognized by his terrified mind.
"Come on, little boy, we want to hear you scream."
Two shaky steps towards one of the stalls and his body crashed into the dirty floor.
"Let's see if you are that tough after some lashing."
He crawled forward as the contents of his stomach threatened to make their way up, finally reaching the cabinet where he cradled his body in the dark corner between the toilet and the wall.
Then, he finally lost control.
Voices and unrecognized faces meshed in his mind, his head dizzy from the lack of oxygen, only being able to feel his own tears and the beating of his heart on his temples.
"I'm going to kill you."
Darkness closed in on him.
"Does this hurt, you little shit?"
His head hit against the wall, no longer able to hold it up.
"Good, because you haven't seen anything yet."
Someone appeared on the door and attempted to step forward. Noting the attempt at proximity, even on the verge of passing out, a guttural noise escaped from him as he pushed against the wall to get away.
- Get away from me!
Blake has just finished helping to put together the seat piece that had collapsed when he felt his phone buzz on his pocket. Signing to Mark he would be stepping aside for a bit, he grabbed the phone.
A confused frown formed on his forehead when he saw the ID of the caller.
- Hey Tim, what's up?
- You need to come to the bathroom right now!
The urgency in Tim's voice caused his frown to increase, but what really struck fear into his heart was the muffled noises in the background that sounded like someone crying in agony.
- What hap...
- It's Dean!
Hearing that name, Blake didn't wait for any more information, sprinting out of the backstage area.
He paid no mind to the noise he was making or the people who looked at him questioningly as he sped through the audience towards the door and then through the halls because there was nothing else on his mind besides Dean.
Blake ran with such speed that in no time he spotted the bathroom, with a clearly agitated Tim by the door, whose eyes widened in relief seeing him.
The older man was about to say something, probably explain the situation, but hearing the sounds of uncontrolled breathing coming from the bathroom, Blake didn't stop and entered the room.
There, his eyes went straight to the first cabinet, and because the door was wide open, he was able to see the person inside.
His heart broke as he saw Dean cradling himself against the wall, coughing out a guttural noise as his body attempted to catch some air, his nails digging on his arms and his face swarmed with a rainstorm of painful tears.
As he witnessed Dean in such a state, Blake felt guilt swarm through him. But that wasn't the time to indulge in guilt, he had to do something.
Very slowly, he stepped forward, his shadow extending and covering Dean's terrified figure.
The movement was soft but it appeared to be enough for Dean to notice, even with eyes closed. The heir's cries intensified and he crawled backwards against the wall in a desperate attempt at maintaining distance.
Blake felt he could cry, but that wasn't the time. Opening his mouth he was about to call out for his friend when he heard something that made the unspoken words dry out in his throat.
- Please don't hurt me. – Dean begged in a cracked voice. – Please.
Blake's eyes shot open.
"Please don't hurt me. Please."
What...?
"I'm not going to hurt you."
It can't...
"You are drenched."
"I'm Blake, by the way."
The pieces of old memories rapidly intertwined with the present moment, and Blake couldn't believe it as he looked that face marked with tears.
For a fraction of a second, he was sure he was back to that dark road in his uniform shorts, with rain pouring down on him while he tried to help the boy dressed in light pyjamas.
Blake didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh.
All that time, Dean and the kid on the road years ago had always been one and the same, but he never recognized him.
A particularly painful-sounding gasp woke him up from his epiphany, back to the present.
The present where Dean was no longer some random person crying on the road, but one of the most important people to him in need of help.
Putting aside the shock that still ran through his veins, Blake took a deep breath, stepping forward.
- No! – Dean screamed again, one of his hands clawing the tile of the walls. – Get away from me!
Blake agonizingly ignored the pleas and kept stepping forwards, now with his body hovering over the one who adopted a protective yet dishevelled stance on the floor.
- Dean.
- Don't touch me!
Desperate and not knowing what else to do, he kneeled in front of the other, just like he had done many years before.
- Dean. – he called out softly, reaching for the other at an incredibly slow pace. – It's okay, it's me.
The heir stopped pushing against the wall and Blake felt a ray of hope.
Swallowing in dry, he kept the slow movement.
- It's me, Blake.
His name seemed to have an immediate effect. Dean's shaky harms moved away, reviling the terrified face and wet pair eyes behind them.
Blake forced a shaky smile.
- It's okay. – he whispered. – I'm here.
Suddenly, the hand that Blake extended out was grabbed and he felt his body being pulled forward. Then, something happened that left him perplexed.
Dean hugged him.
It wasn't a warm hug of any kind. It was a desperate hug as if Dean was trying to merge them together. Blake could feel Dean's tears soaking his skin as he hid his face on the crook of the other's neck and the heir's nails dug on his back painfully.
But he didn't care. He didn't care because it was Dean.
Without thinking, his arms enveloped the heir pulling him even closer, and instead of screaming or pushing him away, Dean grabbed onto the back of his hoodie as if Blake was the only way to safety.
As Dean's breathing seemed to take a slower rhythm, the heir finally let go of his resistance and broke down, crying excruciatingly onto Blake's shoulder.
The man with dark hair wasn't able to hold it in any longer neither, letting a few stray tears escape, rolling down his cheeks. Sniffing in an attempt at controlling himself, he lowered his face into the other's shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling the scent of expensive cologne.
- It's okay, you are safe now. – he whispered periodically in between Dean's cries. – I'm so sorry I let this happen.
Dean hiccupped reputedly, keeping his hold on Blake.
- I'm never going to forget you again.
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Disclaimer: I know I have a disclaimer in the first post, but I want to reiterate that this story is not meant as a portrayal of the psychologic problems Dean has. However, I hope that you understand that if you do suffer from anxiety, panic attacks, etc. and this is not exactly how it is for you, remember that everyone deal's with thing's differently (Dean's panic attack's are based on personal experiences - with a considerable amount of creative liberties, of course. - so I don't mean it as being a general representation of anxiety)
Thank you for reading!!!