#tw panic attack

VRChat World: Skyline Penthouse

Avatars: LPoly Serial Designation J + LPoly Serial Designation V -- both by BiacsatloaNox and GasticNox

Nate's lungs seize instantly, refusing to expand against the heavy, stagnant air. His heart pounds against his ribs like a bird trapped in a cage too small, the sound deafening in his ears. The darkness feels suddenly physical, heavy and solid, pressing down on his chest as if to crush him.

A sudden rush of steps can be heard outside. If he makes a sound, those bastards will kill them both. If he stays here, he dies.

A desperate gasp tears itself from his throat as he drags in air that won't reach his lungs. It’s like breathing in sand. The dark walls are closing in on him. His knees begin to buckle.

"I-I can't," he chokes out, his voice a raw whisper. "I can't breathe."

He needs out. He needs the door open. Just an inch. Please.

Suddenly, two hands grip his face.

Rosa's fingers press into his skin, anchoring him with firm, unyielding pressure. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, creating a single point of solid reality in the vast darkness.

"Nate. Ignacio. Listen to my voice," she whispers, her breath brushing his lips. His eyes snap open. They're too close. Way too close. "Focus on me. Just me."

Her touch is warm against his clammy skin. She smells like the outdoors, like wind and tall grass, wildflowers, honey, and vanilla. She is real. The walls are not.

"Breathe with me," Rosa guides softly, expanding her chest against his. He can feel her pulse against his ribs. "Slow. In for four. Hold. Now out."

He closes his eyes, focusing entirely on the heat of her palms and the rhythmic movement of her chest, trying to match it. Slowly, the phantom walls stop pressing inward, locked in place by her steady grip. The darkness stops crushing him. The frantic trembling from life-or-death panic begins to fade.

And yet, Nate's heart doesn't slow down.

His breathing stutters. He’s suddenly overcome by a completely different kind of paralysis as the absolute certainty of his feelings hits him harder than the terror ever could.

She is the only thing keeping the walls from crushing him. If she walks away, the dark wins. He needs her.

He loves her.

So many moments have brought him to this realization, all leading up to this one. The way her laughter can light up the darkest corners of his mind and how her presence wraps around him like a warm blanket. The way her smile can shift his entire mood and how she knows when to push him and when to hold him. How she is the only one who can talk him off the cliff, the one who can save him when he falls into a tailspin. She is his anchor in the storm.

Rosa's delicate thumbs glide along his jawline, and Nate swallows hard, feeling his throat go dry. He's terrified she'll notice his pulse skyrocketing again, but for very different reasons. 

In the pitch black, he can barely make out her luminous blue eyes, but he can feel the exact shape of her breathing, matching his. Suddenly, he realizes he no longer wants the closet door to open. He wants to remain here, anchored to the universe entirely by the touch of her hands. 

"Nate?" Rosa whispers into the space between their lips, her voice laced with concern. "Are you back?"

He loves her.

"Yeah," he chokes out, his voice like gravel against his throat. His hands, which had been hovering uselessly at his sides, twitch upward but stop short of touching her waist. "I'm back."