#breathless;

The frustration begins as a small bloom. It’s a little harmless at first, just a hitch in the next inhale, a feeling that makes his chest feel just a little bit heavier than usual. It burrows down in his chest and takes root, until it feels like a deep pressure behind his eyes. His movements become a bit more sluggish, unrefined as he struggles with basic spells he should be comfortable with. His eyes threaten to prickle with tears of anger and embarrassment, instead he holds them back, blinking rapidly.

Sitting up, Nikolas tosses his textbook away and grabs his wand. Go for a walk, he rationalizes with the swirling typhoon of thoughts rattling around in his hand. So he stalks through the corridors, his fingers playing endlessly with the familiar weight of the wood in his palm. He pauses outside a familiar doorway and counts his breath for a few moments before rapping his knuckles against the worn wood.