#blind panic

He placed both hands against the counter suddenly feeling very unsteady on his feet.

His heart was pounding like mad in his chest. He had no idea why, and even though he was now stood completely still it didn't seem to be slowing down or stopping at all. In fact, it was getting faster and thumping harder, radiating through his arms and up his neck into his ears. 

Panic began to bubble and rise in his gut and his breath quickened, chest tightening and hurting. He removed a hand from the counter, clutched at his shirt over his beating heart and squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit. This is it isn't it? This is how I'm going? Heart attack at 36. Dead, alone in the kitchen, after getting up in the middle of the night for a glass of water.

Plain, boring and mediocre. 

He was trembling, hadn't even noticed that. He opened his eyes again but he couldn't quite focus them, his head was swimming. He lost control of his balance for a brief second forcing him to place his hand back on the counter, his hip falling against it for extra support.

He blinked quickly a few times hoping it would refocus his vision. It worked, slightly. He could make things out but everything felt warped and distorted. Like he was looking at the world through the rounded glass of a fishbowl.

His head was heavy but his mind was on fire, brain buzzing, and he wanted to dig his fingers into his skull and scratch at it but was too scared to remove his hands from the counter in case he fell. It suddenly felt like that was the only thing keeping him upright. 

He felt sick. He was dizzy and his guts were churning and he just didn't feel right. Something was wrong, he knew it, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

He was hot. So hot. And he could feel the perspiration forming on his brow and beginning to drip down his face.

"Logan? You good?"

He didn't even hear the words, his heart pounding so loud in his ears deafening him and drowning it out.

His legs were becoming weaker and he found himself slumping down against the counter more and more until he eventually gave in and lowered his shaky body to the floor.

Placing his back against the counter, the coolness of it through his shirt a small comfort to his burning skin, he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing which was now nothing but short erratic breaths.

"Shit..."

Something wrapped around his bicep and squeezed it. His eyes snapped open at the touch, startled. 

"Logan?"

His mouth hung slack as he went to respond but his brain couldn't form any words to go with the movement and he just sat there, dazed.

*

"Hey. Hey. It's OK. You're OK." Your voice was soft, still shrouded in sleepiness, but calm and stern.

You sat yourself down on the floor across from Logan, the cold tiles on your bare skin making you shiver slightly.

You kept your eyes locked on his as he stared at you confused, breathing heavily, and unable to speak. He clutched at the material of his shirt again, the pain in his chest seemingly getting worse with every breath he took.

"You're fine. You're OK. You just gotta breathe."

Logan's eyes were wide and he was shaking his head that he couldn't as though that was the most irrational thing you could have ever asked him to do.

"You're OK. You just gotta breathe. C'mon, I'll do it with you, OK?"

You curled your lips up into a half smile and gave a brief nod to reassure him.

"We breathe in and hold for 2 and then out for 4, OK? I'll count it."

He was terrified and not at all convinced but nodded in agreement anyway.

"Ok. So, we breathe in..." You paused, taking a breath, and waited for Logan to follow suit before continuing.

"1... 2..."

You kept your eyes locked on his as he shakily held his breath in, the grip on his shirt tightening.

"And let go..."

You mimicked breathing out and slowly counted to three as Logan let go of the breath he was holding, forcing it to last as long as your count.

You smiled at him.

"Good. That's good. Now, let's do it again."

You repeated the breath several more times smiling at him and encouraging him to continue and repeat it each time before increasing the hold count from two up to four and encouraging him to breathe out for longer.

As his breathing began to calm and even out, the rest of his body followed suit. He was shaking less, the pounding in his ears was depleting and his heart, although still beating erratically, no longer felt like it was about to burst out of his ribcage.

Logan's eyes softened, the panic and horror they previously held slipping away as each deep breath soothed him a little more.

He had released the grip from his shirt after the third or fourth deep breath and had grabbed a hold of your hand tightly for comfort. His fingers were now entwined with yours, your thumb lightly stroking at the side of his wrist.

You smiled at him warmly as he kept taking the breaths without your encouragement and lifted his hand to your lips.

“There's nothing to be scared of, OK? I’m right here.”