Will You... Ditch the Ball With Me?
wearing | hex: #1f3b4d
Alec. Oh, Alec.
Wyatt wasn’t smart where it counted. He spent a lot of time reading so that he couldn’t spend time on other things like hanging out with people, but that did not make him smart in a specific area of knowledge. That is why it took him about three years to realize his feelings for Alec J Mason. His non-feeling feelings. No, his feelings. Whatever they were, they were difficult for Wyatt to admit, especially to himself. While he didn’t have much experience with friendships outside of his with Alec and Opeila, Wyatt had stopped thinking all friends felt this way about other friends a short while ago.
A very short while ago, in fact. Wyatt was still in a stage of feeling incredibly guilty and awkward at every turn. He was nervous, always. It was like he was carrying this huge secret, and if he was found out, he’d be sent to jail or something. The stakes weren’t that high, of course, but they certainly could have been in Wyatt’s head. And now, here he was, wandering around a library that had never felt so huge in search of Alec J Mason, who set up these plans to begin with.
They had been out on one of their walks no more than a few weeks ago when Alec asked. They were almost as far from the castle as you could get without being expelled on the spot. The only noises that reached them there were some bird calls and the sounds of their own shoes mangling the leaves and fallen branches beneath them. There wasn’t a set pattern with their conversations on these walks; Sometimes it was silent, and other times they were so loud the birds would scatter and find another place to talk to one another. Alec just seemed a bit more distracted than usual, and all their—albeit sparse—conversation rounded back to the ball somehow.
Whether Wyatt was going.
He said no. Of course, he said no. Even when he went with Opeila, they left early. Wyatt didn’t think it mattered much who he went with, he never felt comfortable at such a social event. At this point, it wasn’t as much the fact that all Hogwarts balls ended up in chaos, be it at the hands of a few quarreling students or an evil entity set on the castle’s fall, it was more so that Wyatt couldn’t handle a social event. Whenever he thought about it for too long, he felt more and more like the strange kid in the corner. Not that he wasn’t, but especially after the summer, when endless rules on social etiquette were drilled into him as if he were in manners boot camp, it seemed like everything he’d ever done was wrong. A new wardrobe and some French didn’t make him any less Wyatt, it just made him Wyatt in a “proper” costume. He had to find a way to get safely back to Cokeworth this winter break.
But back to the ball mess. Though he was otherwise distracted for their whole walk, Alec seemed to have a moment of intense awareness when Wyatt shortly admitted he would be skipping the Fall Ball another year. Wyatt had nearly expected Alec to make fun of him, why else would he have perked up like a wolf eyeing its unsuspecting prey? But that wasn’t Alec, Wyatt reminded himself as he often would. They walked on a little while longer in silence until Wyatt realized their two sets of footsteps were sounding like just one. He turned to face Alec, who was just pulling his wand. With a pop, a bouquet of flowers flew out the end facing Wyatt, who flinched and took a step back in surprise.
Then, Alec asked if Wyatt would ditch the ball with him. Wyatt laughed a breathy, still-shocked laugh, and nodded, replying, “Of course, I will.” He didn’t know what he thought Alec would say. He wasn’t sure that was exactly it, but it was good enough.
That is why Wyatt found himself walking around the library in “nice” clothes, as Alec asked him to wear. Alec, who couldn’t be seen anywhere. He'd asked him to meet outside the library, but when he didn’t show after a few minutes, Wyatt got anxious. He went into the library, thinking maybe he was late and Alec got tired of standing outside waiting for him. But when Wyatt’s luck didn’t improve in the library, he turned around. Maybe he’d check in the hall again.
Interacting: @Alec Mason
Mentioning: N/A
Last edited by Wyatt Starkey on 23 Mar 2024, 21:51, edited 1 time in total.
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |
Will You... Ditch the Ball With Me?
Attending a Hogwarts ball was like a rite of passage; you weren't really a Hogwarts student until you experienced a disaster ball, where chaos reigns supreme and the tent you're literally collapses in on you. Alec didn't experience any ball disaster that was headliner worthy in any way but he'd had his fair share of not so great ball experiences; having an abhorrent ball experience every once in a while came with the territory of attending a Hogwarts ball. Alec had even attended a ball once or twice without a date.
Even before the posters were everywhere and the ball was announced Alec sort of knew he wouldn't be attending the fall ball. While Alec didn't have a particular reason not to attend, Alec didn't have a particular reason to attend either. And seeing as his relationship had gone up in flames very publicly during the fall ball last year; Alec didn't feel like being reminded the whole student-body knew how his relationship ended would be an enjoyable or even productive use of his time. Attending the fall ball this year would only serve to remind him of his ex; their relationship quite literally going up in flames was a hell of a lot symbolism for just how toxic that whole relationship had been. Aimlessly wandering the castle would have been a much more productive use of his time than attending the fall ball this year and that was just aimless wandering!
While anything could have been a better use of his time than attending the ball Alec refused to squander the night. Alec may as well create some of his own fun. If you'd asked Alec's younger self what creating some of his own fun meant you would probably receive some elaborately schemed grand prank as his answer, for if young Alec couldn't enjoy the ball he would have to find a way to make attending it more entertaining for himself. These days Alec's answer was much more laid-back in comparison, creating some of his own fun meant spending time with someone he enjoyed being around, and in the end it didn't matter what they chose to do instead of attending the ball, spending time in that person's company was fulfilling enough to make it fun and worthwhile. For Alec, that person happened to be Wyatt.
The library was so empty today it made Alec feel like he was in some sort of alternate dimension where everybody else had simply disappeared. It was what he'd been counting on. Heading towards a more secluded area of the library, heading towards the nearest table Alec set down his bag before gently setting his guitar case down on the table as well. Alec didn't plan on dying an early death via an angry librarian, however, since him and Wyatt would be the only students around he doubted it would be an issue. Nobody every studied in the library during a ball, it was either in the dorms or common rooms... Why? Alec wasn't sure, nor did he particularly care, he was more focused on the fact that this worked to his benefit.
Alec had been learning guitar for the past well... a little over a year. How he got it to fit into his trunk was a bit of a tale but not really information that needed to be divulged immediately. Alec hadn't exactly gone about sharing this information about the guitar thing with Wyatt, Alec wanted to wait until he'd gotten a bit better a playing guitar before he showed Wyatt. Maybe he'd show Opeila.
Leaning over the table Alec reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook and some charcoal pencils. Alec had been working on a little something for Wyatt, Alec had to stop in the middle of adding some final bit of shading to head down towards the library. Five minutes, that was all the time he had, then he'd have settle with whatever the outcome of it was and head towards the entrance to wait outside the library for Wyatt. Five minutes became six minutes and six minutes became seven. Alec paused to check out his work, he reached forward brushing away the charcoal dust from the piece of parchment before him with his hand, an unforeseen downside of using any charcoal pencil unfortunately, mess was bound to happen. The sketch was of him and Wyatt ice skating. Alec took a moment to scrutinize the wor- Immediately Alec's head turned at the sound of footsteps, he froze up and held his breath. Alec was just hoping it wasn't that one hag who kissed him walking over to finish the job and eat him or something. The footsteps came closer and closer until they stopped. When they stopped Alec was finally given a moment to process a move on from being freaked out.
As the footsteps started up again they sound starting getting further away. That was when it hit him, that was the sound of Wyatt's footsteps. He hadn't realized how incredibly distinct the sound of Wyatt's footsteps were until that moment... Huh- weird. And to think Alec assumed he was a hag for a minute. Setting the charcoal pencil back down on the table Alec walked away from the table, Alec grinned. When Wyatt was in Alec's line of sight Alec sprinted towards him tackling him into hug(whether he topples the both of them over is up to you. i guess it would be more about whether wyatt can take surprise hug attacks and still stay standing). Alec laughed, "wyattttt, you were supposed to wait outside for me." Alec whined, though he didn't seem upset. Alec pouted playfully, "you almost ruined the surprise for yourself."
Alec hadn't been that long had he? Surely Wyatt had waited outside for a bit but it couldn't have been that long. Or maybe it had been longer than he realized... "Sorry, I took so long. I swear I was going to come out and get you in like five more minutes tops. I just wanted to finish what I was working on before I got you so you could see." Alec explained, about to reach for Wyatt's so he could lead/drag him towards the little area he'd set up, Alec stopped mid-reach, his eyes widened, "I forgot I have charcoal on my hands." Alec looked down at his hands, then came a greater realization, "oh my gosh," Alec frowned, "hopefully I didn't get charcoal on your clothes..." Another realization followed as Alec was finally able to take a minute and get a good look at Wyatt. Get a good look he did because Alec realized he was staring and looked away. "um... you- um... youlooknice" Abort mission, enough of that, Alec was never doing that again. BAD IDEA. he couldn't even do words.
"aNYwaY, um, follow me," Alec led the way towards his little set up. "We can study, I didn't know if that would be too boring and I did want to make it special so I did bring some stuff." Alec spoke, when Alec's eyes landed on the table with his stuff on it he smiled sheepishly, "yeahhhh there's charcoal dust all over the table, I'll clean it up in a bit. Also don't worry we won't be a bother to anyone, nobody is here. Actually okay while... maybe one or two people I didn't check that thoroughly." Alec reached for his open sketchbook picking it up and handing it to Wyatt. "What do you think?"
@Wyatt Starkey
Even before the posters were everywhere and the ball was announced Alec sort of knew he wouldn't be attending the fall ball. While Alec didn't have a particular reason not to attend, Alec didn't have a particular reason to attend either. And seeing as his relationship had gone up in flames very publicly during the fall ball last year; Alec didn't feel like being reminded the whole student-body knew how his relationship ended would be an enjoyable or even productive use of his time. Attending the fall ball this year would only serve to remind him of his ex; their relationship quite literally going up in flames was a hell of a lot symbolism for just how toxic that whole relationship had been. Aimlessly wandering the castle would have been a much more productive use of his time than attending the fall ball this year and that was just aimless wandering!
While anything could have been a better use of his time than attending the ball Alec refused to squander the night. Alec may as well create some of his own fun. If you'd asked Alec's younger self what creating some of his own fun meant you would probably receive some elaborately schemed grand prank as his answer, for if young Alec couldn't enjoy the ball he would have to find a way to make attending it more entertaining for himself. These days Alec's answer was much more laid-back in comparison, creating some of his own fun meant spending time with someone he enjoyed being around, and in the end it didn't matter what they chose to do instead of attending the ball, spending time in that person's company was fulfilling enough to make it fun and worthwhile. For Alec, that person happened to be Wyatt.
The library was so empty today it made Alec feel like he was in some sort of alternate dimension where everybody else had simply disappeared. It was what he'd been counting on. Heading towards a more secluded area of the library, heading towards the nearest table Alec set down his bag before gently setting his guitar case down on the table as well. Alec didn't plan on dying an early death via an angry librarian, however, since him and Wyatt would be the only students around he doubted it would be an issue. Nobody every studied in the library during a ball, it was either in the dorms or common rooms... Why? Alec wasn't sure, nor did he particularly care, he was more focused on the fact that this worked to his benefit.
Alec had been learning guitar for the past well... a little over a year. How he got it to fit into his trunk was a bit of a tale but not really information that needed to be divulged immediately. Alec hadn't exactly gone about sharing this information about the guitar thing with Wyatt, Alec wanted to wait until he'd gotten a bit better a playing guitar before he showed Wyatt. Maybe he'd show Opeila.
Leaning over the table Alec reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook and some charcoal pencils. Alec had been working on a little something for Wyatt, Alec had to stop in the middle of adding some final bit of shading to head down towards the library. Five minutes, that was all the time he had, then he'd have settle with whatever the outcome of it was and head towards the entrance to wait outside the library for Wyatt. Five minutes became six minutes and six minutes became seven. Alec paused to check out his work, he reached forward brushing away the charcoal dust from the piece of parchment before him with his hand, an unforeseen downside of using any charcoal pencil unfortunately, mess was bound to happen. The sketch was of him and Wyatt ice skating. Alec took a moment to scrutinize the wor- Immediately Alec's head turned at the sound of footsteps, he froze up and held his breath. Alec was just hoping it wasn't that one hag who kissed him walking over to finish the job and eat him or something. The footsteps came closer and closer until they stopped. When they stopped Alec was finally given a moment to process a move on from being freaked out.
As the footsteps started up again they sound starting getting further away. That was when it hit him, that was the sound of Wyatt's footsteps. He hadn't realized how incredibly distinct the sound of Wyatt's footsteps were until that moment... Huh- weird. And to think Alec assumed he was a hag for a minute. Setting the charcoal pencil back down on the table Alec walked away from the table, Alec grinned. When Wyatt was in Alec's line of sight Alec sprinted towards him tackling him into hug(whether he topples the both of them over is up to you. i guess it would be more about whether wyatt can take surprise hug attacks and still stay standing). Alec laughed, "wyattttt, you were supposed to wait outside for me." Alec whined, though he didn't seem upset. Alec pouted playfully, "you almost ruined the surprise for yourself."
Alec hadn't been that long had he? Surely Wyatt had waited outside for a bit but it couldn't have been that long. Or maybe it had been longer than he realized... "Sorry, I took so long. I swear I was going to come out and get you in like five more minutes tops. I just wanted to finish what I was working on before I got you so you could see." Alec explained, about to reach for Wyatt's so he could lead/drag him towards the little area he'd set up, Alec stopped mid-reach, his eyes widened, "I forgot I have charcoal on my hands." Alec looked down at his hands, then came a greater realization, "oh my gosh," Alec frowned, "hopefully I didn't get charcoal on your clothes..." Another realization followed as Alec was finally able to take a minute and get a good look at Wyatt. Get a good look he did because Alec realized he was staring and looked away. "um... you- um... youlooknice" Abort mission, enough of that, Alec was never doing that again. BAD IDEA. he couldn't even do words.
"aNYwaY, um, follow me," Alec led the way towards his little set up. "We can study, I didn't know if that would be too boring and I did want to make it special so I did bring some stuff." Alec spoke, when Alec's eyes landed on the table with his stuff on it he smiled sheepishly, "yeahhhh there's charcoal dust all over the table, I'll clean it up in a bit. Also don't worry we won't be a bother to anyone, nobody is here. Actually okay while... maybe one or two people I didn't check that thoroughly." Alec reached for his open sketchbook picking it up and handing it to Wyatt. "What do you think?"
@Wyatt Starkey
Will You... Ditch the Ball With Me?
wearing | hex: #1f3b4d
Wyatt heard him before he saw him. At first, the footsteps were slow, inquiring. Alec—it could only be Alec, in Wyatt’s mind—was looking for him, and Wyatt whipped his head around to meet him in his search. The footsteps echoed so clearly in the empty library that Wyatt didn’t know where they were coming from, and apparently, he’d chosen the wrong direction because the footsteps grew quicker. Then, as they drew nearer it was more obvious they were coming from a spot just to his left, just out of sight. Finally, Alec hit him, drawing him in an unstable hug that more resembled a tackle than an embrace, and it was enough to knock Wyatt off balance. All that broom racing training to hone his alertness or dexterity or sense or what-have-you fell instantly in Alec’s atmosphere leaving Wyatt to spin out until he found stability in his orbit. That’s how it always went with them.
Alec’s tight hold around Wyatt’s arms loosened as he spoke, "Wyattttt, you were supposed to wait outside for me. You almost ruined the surprise for yourself."
His pout was so hysterical that Wyatt couldn’t help but laugh with him. Alec had giggled like a baby on their descent, and Wyatt matched him now as he rearranged himself to a seated position, only recently having the wind knocked out of him and not yet prepared to stand. He looked to his friend, assuring him, “I wasn’t… I didn’t remember, I guess– wait, no, why is there a surprise? What surprise?” Unsurprisingly (is that a pun? It’s intended to be one I think), Wyatt was no fan of surprises. He liked to know what was going to happen before it happened like any sane individual.
With this news of an incoming surprise, Wyatt stood. Alec had already caught him off guard once today, and he didn’t know if he could take that again. Alec reached out his hands and that’s when Wyatt noticed a black powder on his fingertips and all over his palms.
"I forgot I have charcoal on my hands."
“Is that part of the surprise?”
"Oh my gosh."
“Alec you have to tell me if pyrotechnics are involved because I have had enough of those worries with Rainwood, and–”
"Hopefully I didn't get charcoal on your clothes..."
“Well,” Wyatt looked down and tugged on the black fabric, looking for stains himself but realizing that if there were any, they’d just blend in anyway. When he looked up, he just saw Alec looking, no, scanning Wyatt’s outfit and Wyatt kind of lost it. Internally, at least. Had he worn the right thing? The wrong thing? He should have asked Draven for help, he was quite good with fashion and Wyatt didn’t have a clue so choosing the most important outfit of his life (what?) blind was decidedly unwise. Wyatt looked down again, hoping to anyone who would listen that Alec did, in fact, get some charcoal on his sweater or that Alec would do that trick where you tell someone they have a stain and then they look down and then they boop your nose or something because Wyatt couldn’t handle the alternative.
"Um... you- um... youlooknice."
Ohthankgod, Wyatt thought, letting out an insane exhale. Alec said that strangely though. Despite Wyatt’s rampant paranoia, Alec had, in the past, complimented him well and without the strange anxious undertone. It wasn’t like him to rush kindness. Alec followed that up with an even more awkward “anyway” and a request to follow, and Wyatt did, his head on a swivel, surveying the area to try and catch the surprise before it caught him.
“I checked, it’s only us in here right now,” Wyatt let out almost clinically and without thought after Alec admitted to not checking the library thoroughly for others. Wyatt was vigilant, if nothing else. Scanning the room for the more studious of Hogwarts’ population was just an additional, subconscious task below his initial search for Alec. As it turns out, this year’s ball was a more popular one, and there were no stragglers in the library. For those not in attendance, it seems they preferred studying in their common rooms or dorms over the gloomy library. It did always have an underlying atmosphere of… strangeness to it, though, especially at night.
When they reached the spot Alec set up, Wyatt found it was a much calmer surprise than he pictured. While he thought himself observant, he must have dismissed this little cove as a study spot or, generally, something thoughtful that didn’t concern him. But it did. And it was very nice. The surprise finally came when Alec grabbed the sketchbook that lay on the desk beside them and opened it to reveal a sketch of Wyatt and Alec, ice skating. Alec had masterfully depicted Wyatt’s otherworldly clumsiness on the ice, but he didn’t think he looked stupid. He found himself looking endearing. How strange it was, to be seen from Alec’s eyes. Or, Alec’s interpretation of what an unseen observer might have witnessed. Of Alec holding Wyatt’s arms so he wouldn’t faceplant mid-stride, a smile on both of their faces—Wyatt’s, of course, more begrudging due to the embarrassment of near faceplanting mid-stride—as they skate over a frozen pond in a perfectly calm forest just outside of campus in the early winter, Alec draped in Wyatt’s (dad’s) shabby old coat. And despite how freezing cold Wyatt knew in his head it was that day, his heart only felt warm thinking of it all.
Wyatt smiled, as big as you could smile without flashing teeth, and let out a sincere “thank you,” his tone saying wow. That moment was special, seeing it on paper reminded him.
“Uhm, I’d rather not study if you’d agree. I don’t have any huge exams coming up but I feel like we should talk. There’s got to be something we haven’t caught each other up on yet,” Wyatt said. “I wonder what’s going on at the ball right now. If there’s any drama worth hearing about I’m sure it’ll get to us at some point, though, right?”
Interacting: @Alec Mason
Mentioning: Percival Rainwood, Draven Mirador
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |
Will You... Ditch the Ball With Me?
TW: Toxic relationship & panic attack symptoms
Alec had been planning the piece out in his head for months. It was something he had been wanting to do for Wyatt ever since the first time he laid eyes on Alec’s art. He’d had the short end of the bargain really, he played an entire song just to get a look. He’d been trying for what seemed like years now to make something to give him in return. Hours upon hours of work but they were good enough for Alec. It was always when he finally settled on something that he thought he could finally take pride in and be proud of to show to Wyatt, Alec would scrap it never fully encapsulated everything he felt about Wyatt, about their relationship, about his presence in Alec’s life.
His goal had shifts from simply making something for Wyatt as a ‘thank you’, top in his third-year making something for Wyatt that captured the way Alec saw him, to show Wyatt what he saw in him. He was so much more than those labels he put onto himself. Those labels that he felt dictated his worth, dictated what he deserved. Alec wanted Wyatt to see that person who agreed to go ice-skating with Alec. The Wyatt who despite all his better judgement agreed to go ice-skating with Alec, with more to lose than to gain, and yet he agreed anyway and set aside his pride for Alec’s sake. He wanted Wyatt to see that person who was soft, gentle, kind, the person who was patient with Alec even though he was embarrassed or annoyed. The Wyatt who was angry at Alec for minimizing his own problems and made him promise no more secrets to make sure that would never happen again. The Wyatt who hugged him when he cried. The Wyatt who let Alec put a butterfly clip in his hair. The Wyatt who gave Alec his coat. He wanted just how he was to Alec’s very being. To understand that he was as important and essential to Alec as oxygen. He was everything to Alec. He was all that was good and right with the world, and the only thing that made sense when everything else didn’t. A world without Wyatt was a world Alec didn’t want to be a part of.
It was all there on that one piece of paper. The things Alec never knew how to get across with his words. The stuff he couldn’t or didn’t know how to say. He’d never been great at that, he always got flustered and then finding words, and then he’d start stuttering all over again. He hoped Wyatt understood. Wyatt was good at that- understanding Alec. Most of all he hoped that Wyatt too understood that Alec believed Wyatt deserved everything he could give him and everything he could not.
The sketchbook left Alec's hand, Alec's breath caught in his throat. A light heat creeped up his neck and over his cheeks. It wasn’t good enough. Alec held back the instinctive urge to tear it out of Wyatt’s hands, pull out the charcoal drawing from the sketchbook, and tear it to tiny pieces so that it could never see the light of day. Alec turned his head away and looked towards the ground. Alec’s thumb rubbed at the charcoal smeared(?) charcoal on his index finger.
Alec was reminded of how he felt when Wyatt saw his art for the first time. He was so embarrassed and ashamed he could have melted into the floor. It wasn’t all too dissimilar from how he felt now. A part of Alec, that same part of Alec from all those years ago, expected Wyatt to laugh in his face or insult him.
Wyatt held a piece of Alec in his hands. By both making it for and handing it to him, he trusted Wyatt to not crumple or rip that peice of him to shreds and to be gentle enough when he held it as to not smudge the carchoal. Yet he waited for it anyway, searching for any hint in Wyatt's face that Alec had been wrong but it never came. Wyatt didn't laugh. He didn't insult Alec, didn't make some sort of snarky remark. He didn't yell at him. No. Wyatt looked at it. Really looked at it. The same way he had all those years before.
Alec exhaled instantly and a warmth spread through his chest as his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. It should have relaxed him but the awareness that his art~~he~~ was being perceived only served to make him more fidgety. He felt like squirming and looking away again. Then Wyatt SMILED and Alec really didn’t know what to do with himself. Alec felt like he might explode or die right there on the spot or maybe even both.
Wyatt said thank you. Alec nodded as he turned his head away so Wyatt could only see the side of his very red face making a strained “Mhm” sound. It was all he could do to keep himself from covering his face with his hands which somehow felt even more embarrassing.
Alec was going to introduce the guitar thing at some point. He was surprised Wyatt hadn’t already noticed the case on the table, but was silently relieved because that gave Alec more time to bounce back from everything that had just happened and hopefully regain his composure before he even considered trying to play something for Wyatt.
Alec hadn’t planned on studying at all but had realized a little too late that the library had implications so he had been planning for everything just in case because he was not sure what Wyatt had thought he agreed to. Wyatt mentioned catching each other up and Alec nodded but his smile faded slightly. "Maybe? There probably is." It was the most non-committal answer a person could give. He was sure there was but he wasn’t super motivated to talk about any of it, besides none of that was really in the forefront of his mind right now when his brain was still internally screaming about Wyatt and he could barely hold it together externally.
Alec reached for a glass of water he’d had on the table. He took a sip and choked on his water almost instantaneously as Wyatt wondered if they’d hear about the drama from the ball later. Alec sure hoped not. Now all he could think about was how everyone had most definitely been gossiping about that incredibly public fight and breakup him and Pea had at the ball. There was no way they hadn’t been part of the gossip for weeks after. If Wyatt was actually keeping up with gossip Alec had to wonder how he’d not heard about it because surely if he had he would have brought it up to Alec. Alec hadn’t even told Wyatt he’d been dating anybody.
The breakup was horrid. He had a few nightmares after because of it, mostly about if the fire were to have actually hit him. He’d dealt with fire before but it felt different than duelling because that was a controlled environment, that and he never expected someone he was dating only five minutes prior to try to incinerate him. Alec’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. He closed his eyes to try to steady himself but that only made him aware of how shaky his hands were… The way he’d felt prior to reaching for that goblet. He realized how much they sounded like his parents and that freaked him out. He was trying to take a breather so he could come back more level-headed but his hands were shaky and sweaty on top of not feeling super present in his body and the drink slipped out of his hand.
“Shit.”
Alec’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of something hitting the ground. Alec blinked for a good few seconds as he stared at the cup on the ground. There was no way he didn’t get water on Wyatt(this is just alec’s assumption though) Alec’s body tensed up. All sense of logic seemed to leave him as he half expected Wyatt to start yelling. The air started to feel too thick or too thin, and his lungs felt like they couldn’t expand enough. Alec’s vision blurred.
All he could see were flames.
"I HAVE WAITED FOR HOURS!"
He knew he was in the wrong then, but he also knew it wouldn't have mattered.
She would have found something else to yell about.
He was dreading going from the start.
He couldn't handle the yelling. He'd tap out and become emotionally vacant and numb, and by that point there was really no getting through to him.
"LISTEN TO WHAT ALEC? OF YOU WHINING? Boohoo you are such a baby, you know that?"
Was that what it was supposed to be like? His parents were that way. He knew it made him anxious. Knew he would have rather paced in circles in his dormitory, while trying to stave off that feeling that made his lungs feel like they were being squeezed all because the very idea of going to ball with her and having another big blowup was enough to make him feel like he couldn't breathe.
He had reached for the goblet but he was shaky the way he was now, her dress was ruined and he had to play it off, to not look the way he felt on the inside. She wouldn't listen if he tried to explain, she would tell him he's lying again. He hated their dynamic but he put up with it because that was normal... It was okay. It was normal. People in relationships yell and fight constantly. That's normal...
Even when he was arguing with her he held a level of trust in her, a level of regard for one another. Alec hadn't knocked over that goblet on purpose but even in a world where he had, that didn't matter. It was a drink... And he would agree that maybe in both cases she had the right to slap him because at that point it was cosmic justice.
It was different. He knew that the second he saw the flames coming for him. She wanted to hurt him. They were arguing but there are certain lines you don't cross. People who care about each other hurt one another. Alec put a trembling hand on the table before him to steady himself. The images of flames intermingled with the library. The library? The library. His gaze landed back on Wyatt's eyes, the flames dissipated from his vision as Alec remembered who was in front of him. Wyatt had never yelled at him. Even when Wyatt absolutely despised Alec, Wyatt never yelled at him. Wyatt had cutting words that were absolutely vicious, but Wyatt didn't yell, not at him.
Still, the notion didn’t stop the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster and faster. Alec closed his eyes again only tighter this time, as if he could will this entire moment away if he tried hard enough. “S-sorry,” was all Alec managed to get out. This was not how tonight was supposed to go.
Alec had been planning the piece out in his head for months. It was something he had been wanting to do for Wyatt ever since the first time he laid eyes on Alec’s art. He’d had the short end of the bargain really, he played an entire song just to get a look. He’d been trying for what seemed like years now to make something to give him in return. Hours upon hours of work but they were good enough for Alec. It was always when he finally settled on something that he thought he could finally take pride in and be proud of to show to Wyatt, Alec would scrap it never fully encapsulated everything he felt about Wyatt, about their relationship, about his presence in Alec’s life.
His goal had shifts from simply making something for Wyatt as a ‘thank you’, top in his third-year making something for Wyatt that captured the way Alec saw him, to show Wyatt what he saw in him. He was so much more than those labels he put onto himself. Those labels that he felt dictated his worth, dictated what he deserved. Alec wanted Wyatt to see that person who agreed to go ice-skating with Alec. The Wyatt who despite all his better judgement agreed to go ice-skating with Alec, with more to lose than to gain, and yet he agreed anyway and set aside his pride for Alec’s sake. He wanted Wyatt to see that person who was soft, gentle, kind, the person who was patient with Alec even though he was embarrassed or annoyed. The Wyatt who was angry at Alec for minimizing his own problems and made him promise no more secrets to make sure that would never happen again. The Wyatt who hugged him when he cried. The Wyatt who let Alec put a butterfly clip in his hair. The Wyatt who gave Alec his coat. He wanted just how he was to Alec’s very being. To understand that he was as important and essential to Alec as oxygen. He was everything to Alec. He was all that was good and right with the world, and the only thing that made sense when everything else didn’t. A world without Wyatt was a world Alec didn’t want to be a part of.
It was all there on that one piece of paper. The things Alec never knew how to get across with his words. The stuff he couldn’t or didn’t know how to say. He’d never been great at that, he always got flustered and then finding words, and then he’d start stuttering all over again. He hoped Wyatt understood. Wyatt was good at that- understanding Alec. Most of all he hoped that Wyatt too understood that Alec believed Wyatt deserved everything he could give him and everything he could not.
The sketchbook left Alec's hand, Alec's breath caught in his throat. A light heat creeped up his neck and over his cheeks. It wasn’t good enough. Alec held back the instinctive urge to tear it out of Wyatt’s hands, pull out the charcoal drawing from the sketchbook, and tear it to tiny pieces so that it could never see the light of day. Alec turned his head away and looked towards the ground. Alec’s thumb rubbed at the charcoal smeared(?) charcoal on his index finger.
Alec was reminded of how he felt when Wyatt saw his art for the first time. He was so embarrassed and ashamed he could have melted into the floor. It wasn’t all too dissimilar from how he felt now. A part of Alec, that same part of Alec from all those years ago, expected Wyatt to laugh in his face or insult him.
Wyatt held a piece of Alec in his hands. By both making it for and handing it to him, he trusted Wyatt to not crumple or rip that peice of him to shreds and to be gentle enough when he held it as to not smudge the carchoal. Yet he waited for it anyway, searching for any hint in Wyatt's face that Alec had been wrong but it never came. Wyatt didn't laugh. He didn't insult Alec, didn't make some sort of snarky remark. He didn't yell at him. No. Wyatt looked at it. Really looked at it. The same way he had all those years before.
Alec exhaled instantly and a warmth spread through his chest as his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. It should have relaxed him but the awareness that his art~~he~~ was being perceived only served to make him more fidgety. He felt like squirming and looking away again. Then Wyatt SMILED and Alec really didn’t know what to do with himself. Alec felt like he might explode or die right there on the spot or maybe even both.
Wyatt said thank you. Alec nodded as he turned his head away so Wyatt could only see the side of his very red face making a strained “Mhm” sound. It was all he could do to keep himself from covering his face with his hands which somehow felt even more embarrassing.
Alec was going to introduce the guitar thing at some point. He was surprised Wyatt hadn’t already noticed the case on the table, but was silently relieved because that gave Alec more time to bounce back from everything that had just happened and hopefully regain his composure before he even considered trying to play something for Wyatt.
Alec hadn’t planned on studying at all but had realized a little too late that the library had implications so he had been planning for everything just in case because he was not sure what Wyatt had thought he agreed to. Wyatt mentioned catching each other up and Alec nodded but his smile faded slightly. "Maybe? There probably is." It was the most non-committal answer a person could give. He was sure there was but he wasn’t super motivated to talk about any of it, besides none of that was really in the forefront of his mind right now when his brain was still internally screaming about Wyatt and he could barely hold it together externally.
Alec reached for a glass of water he’d had on the table. He took a sip and choked on his water almost instantaneously as Wyatt wondered if they’d hear about the drama from the ball later. Alec sure hoped not. Now all he could think about was how everyone had most definitely been gossiping about that incredibly public fight and breakup him and Pea had at the ball. There was no way they hadn’t been part of the gossip for weeks after. If Wyatt was actually keeping up with gossip Alec had to wonder how he’d not heard about it because surely if he had he would have brought it up to Alec. Alec hadn’t even told Wyatt he’d been dating anybody.
The breakup was horrid. He had a few nightmares after because of it, mostly about if the fire were to have actually hit him. He’d dealt with fire before but it felt different than duelling because that was a controlled environment, that and he never expected someone he was dating only five minutes prior to try to incinerate him. Alec’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. He closed his eyes to try to steady himself but that only made him aware of how shaky his hands were… The way he’d felt prior to reaching for that goblet. He realized how much they sounded like his parents and that freaked him out. He was trying to take a breather so he could come back more level-headed but his hands were shaky and sweaty on top of not feeling super present in his body and the drink slipped out of his hand.
“Shit.”
Alec’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of something hitting the ground. Alec blinked for a good few seconds as he stared at the cup on the ground. There was no way he didn’t get water on Wyatt(this is just alec’s assumption though) Alec’s body tensed up. All sense of logic seemed to leave him as he half expected Wyatt to start yelling. The air started to feel too thick or too thin, and his lungs felt like they couldn’t expand enough. Alec’s vision blurred.
All he could see were flames.
"I HAVE WAITED FOR HOURS!"
He knew he was in the wrong then, but he also knew it wouldn't have mattered.
She would have found something else to yell about.
He was dreading going from the start.
He couldn't handle the yelling. He'd tap out and become emotionally vacant and numb, and by that point there was really no getting through to him.
"LISTEN TO WHAT ALEC? OF YOU WHINING? Boohoo you are such a baby, you know that?"
Was that what it was supposed to be like? His parents were that way. He knew it made him anxious. Knew he would have rather paced in circles in his dormitory, while trying to stave off that feeling that made his lungs feel like they were being squeezed all because the very idea of going to ball with her and having another big blowup was enough to make him feel like he couldn't breathe.
He had reached for the goblet but he was shaky the way he was now, her dress was ruined and he had to play it off, to not look the way he felt on the inside. She wouldn't listen if he tried to explain, she would tell him he's lying again. He hated their dynamic but he put up with it because that was normal... It was okay. It was normal. People in relationships yell and fight constantly. That's normal...
Even when he was arguing with her he held a level of trust in her, a level of regard for one another. Alec hadn't knocked over that goblet on purpose but even in a world where he had, that didn't matter. It was a drink... And he would agree that maybe in both cases she had the right to slap him because at that point it was cosmic justice.
It was different. He knew that the second he saw the flames coming for him. She wanted to hurt him. They were arguing but there are certain lines you don't cross. People who care about each other hurt one another. Alec put a trembling hand on the table before him to steady himself. The images of flames intermingled with the library. The library? The library. His gaze landed back on Wyatt's eyes, the flames dissipated from his vision as Alec remembered who was in front of him. Wyatt had never yelled at him. Even when Wyatt absolutely despised Alec, Wyatt never yelled at him. Wyatt had cutting words that were absolutely vicious, but Wyatt didn't yell, not at him.
Still, the notion didn’t stop the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster and faster. Alec closed his eyes again only tighter this time, as if he could will this entire moment away if he tried hard enough. “S-sorry,” was all Alec managed to get out. This was not how tonight was supposed to go.
Will You... Ditch the Ball With Me?
hex: #1f3b4d
Wyatt tried not to just sit and gawk at Alec’s drawing, but the more he looked at it, the more he got lost in it. He could feel the cold, the ice on his hands as he fell. The chill that reached his bones when he took his jacket off, and the warmth that enveloped him when he saw Alec wearing it. Alec’s response to Wyatt was a bit short, Wyatt noticed. Just a simple “mhm.” The Slytherin pursed his lips at that, his eyes fixed on the drawing. Sparing a glance up at Alec, he wondered if his reaction was insufficient. He loved it. His face was just poor at communicating his mind. Years of suppression will do it. Charcoal was the perfect medium, he thought, holding the parchment at the edges so as to not disrupt the composition. The smudges gave their movements such life. It breathed. Wyatt felt like if he fell into it at the perfect angle, he could be there again.
Looking up in time to see Alec choke slightly on his water, Wyatt gave a small chuckle. It was well timed. For some reason, Alec clearly did not care to hear about the ball drama. Wyatt could understand that. After being featured in many a rumor over his time at Hogwarts, Wyatt learned how to tune out school gossip. It meant he was painfully unaware of most of the goings-on, but it kept him more sane than when he was restlessly tuned in, trying to manage his reputation. A lost cause, that old thing.
His eyes caught something else on their journey up, though. Wyatt had been so enamored by Alec’s drawing that he missed the guitar case on the table. He raised a brow. “Is this yours? You didn’t tell me you learned-”
A clattering of noise harshly cut through the easy stillness of the library. Wyatt flinched. Instinctively, he raised the drawing over his head so it would be as far away as possible from the fallen object. It was the goblet. Which Wyatt knew to contain water.
“Shit.”
It felt like it had happened so quickly. The near explosive sound. Then Alec’s curse. Wyatt looked down to see the fallen goblet, noticing a splash of darker black on his black trousers. Dampness. The cup must’ve been quite full for water to hit Wyatt on its way to the floor. It was a shame. Alec was probably far thirstier than the floor was. Wyatt carefully lowered the charcoal drawing, setting it on the table. It was bone dry, thank Merlin. Crouching, Wyatt picked up the goblet to set it on the table (a good distance from Alec’s lovely art, just in case). When he stood again, his head on a swivel for something he could use to clean up the water nearby, Wyatt caught sight of Alec.
Alec was frozen.
The Gryffindor looked like a different person from just moments ago. His eyes were bleary, unfocused. He was looking anywhere but at Wyatt. It wasn’t like Alec to overreact so greatly to a spill. Wyatt raised a brow and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as he noticed a few more things. Alec was steadying himself with a hand on the table, and his free hand trembled at his side. Wyatt knew the feeling. The overwhelming dizziness, the thoughts louder than any outside noise, your eyes betraying you, your mind showing you things that aren’t there, telling you things that aren’t the slightest rooted in reality but feel so true. Wyatt saw his chest rise and fall, Alec swallowing air like it would reach his lungs in gulps.
It was a panic attack. Wyatt pursed his lips, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out how to ground Alec in between scolding himself for not noticing sooner. Wyatt could read people quite well, but he was like… a magician. It was an illusion. Memorizing tells and being hypervigilant, you start to figure out what expressions mean what, down to the minutia. But how people really worked? Beyond one conversation, one argument? That’s where Wyatt was stumped. Even so, Wyatt could read Alec deeper than surface level. Perhaps it was because he simply wanted to. It wasn’t easy, he had to try, to focus. But he could. This time, it had taken him a bit long to notice. Was there a sign he missed? Something Wyatt had said? He filed away this moment to beat himself up over (or examine) later, but now was about Alec.
“Alec, are you with me?” Wyatt asked carefully, taking a step closer. He was stuck in a buffer state, not completely sure what to do. He feared making things worse. Then Alec apologized. Apologized. For having an anxiety attack. Wyatt supposed it couldn’t get more nonsensical than that. But then again, he knew the disorientation and shame that came with something like this. Think, Starkey. What would Alec like? How is Alec soothed? Wyatt took a deep breath through his nose.
Wyatt’s hand, trembling, though far less than Alec’s and out of uncertainty, settled on top of the one steadying Alec on the table. His other hand found Alec’s bicep and trailed up and down, as if trying to warm him up. Wyatt took a deep breath through his nose, and let the exhale go through his mouth, a subconscious demonstration for Alec to follow. His left hand, the one on his arm, moved to Alec’s chest. His heart hammered, Wyatt could feel it. His chest rose and fell with little consistent rhythm.
“Breathe with me,” Wyatt asked, just shy of begging. His tone was level, easy, but there was a small nagging in the back of his mind. What if you’re doing it wrong? Wyatt dispelled that for the moment. Bigger fish. Inhale through nose. Hold. Exhale through mouth. “It’s quiet. Calm. We’re in the library,” Wyatt reminded him gently. “Just us. I checked, remember?”
Wyatt breathed again. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. His hand slid up to where Alec’s neck met his shoulder and he squeezed, trying to give him a real feeling to focus on.
Interacting: @Alec Mason
Mentioning: N/A
| “If you ever need anything please don't hesitate to ask someone else first.” - Kurt Cobain. |
Sta: 15 | Eva: 20 | Str: 6 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 11 Parselmouth | Prodigal DADA | Fearless | Muggle Condition |
Will You... Ditch the Ball With Me?
“Alec, are you-”
Pull it together, you can’t let him see you like this. You’re fine. This isn’t happening, you are not doing this. You’re not. Stop it.
There was a violence in the way the air escaped his lungs, as if the air was being punched out of his lungs before he could even begin to take it in. The tight feeling in his chest and his lungs felt tighter with each missed breath. A sharp pain started to take root like a knife twisting in his lungs.
Breathe- just breathe for Melin’s sake. That’s all you have to do. But you can’t even do that. You’re pathetic. It’s a simple, animal function. You’re failing at being an animal.
It was a simple task, or it should have been but when he tried to slow, tried to breathe his lungs refused to obey. His body is actively working against him at every turn. A prisoner within his own panic flooded body.
He knows
Air.
There’s no air.
He sees what a mess you are
There’s not enough air.
He can’t breathe.
Leave.
He needed to leave.
He needed to get out.
His heart was beating so fast he felt dizzy.
You can’t be seen like this. Especially not by him.
Where was the exit?
Stuck. He was stuck, his body was betraying him once more.
Face.
His face, he couldn’t feel his face.
Why couldn’t he feel his face?
Dying… Was he dying?
He had to be dying. He was going to die.
Heart attacks feel like this don’t they?
But he knew he wouldn’t die. But what if he did this time?
His face was red, clammy, shaky, and with each breath he was desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water. His heart was thrumming out of control, beating so fast it could have burst right out of his chest. Alec for his part had managed to look surprisingly composed despite evidence to the contrary.
Then he felt a weight on his hand. His hand was cold in comparison to Alec’s clammy hand. His presence was so steady, so real. Somehow, that made it worse.
Alec tried to force his own stillness. Trying to enforce what little control he had over the situation to make his panic less pronounced. It was a strange attempt to shield Wyatt and dissuade any concerns he might have had for Alec. He wouldn’t pull his hand away, it’d be the sort of act of visible rejection that only would have been more cause for concern. Instead, he focused all his remaining energy and will to still his hand. It worked for a few seconds, he was still, then his breathing became more regard and the tremor in his hand worse than before.
Wyatt’s other hand was rubbed the side of Alec’s arm. There was a deep uncomfortability in his awareness that he was taking up time and space. The muscles in his arm tensed and his breath caught in his throat. He continued to hold his breath, going against the urge to gasp for air in a painful, strained manner, turning reflex into a concerted effort to censor himself. A panicked attempt to still himself and stifle the sound of his gasping. With each moment up and down Alec’s bicep, his arm repeatedly straightened and tensed. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully accept that he was worthy of Wyatt’s kindness in that moment.
Finally Alec’s lungs screaming out in pain could not take it anymore and a low, choked sound escaped his throat. Not a full-throated gasp but rather a strangled noise of pure self-loathing. His attempt to not sound as desperate in his gasping for air as he truly was and yet it sounded worse than his gasping. His attempt to quiet himself was futile and ultimately useless anyway because it only took a few of those strangled sounds before he was right back to loud full-throated gasps for air.
Wyatt’s hand moved to Alec’s chest. Alec opted to ignore the reality that Wyatt was far too cognizant of how panicked Alec actually was. Wyatt asked Alec to breath with him. Wyatt’s presence was unwavering, Alec was exhausted and worn down from trying to minimize himself, and what he was experiencing in front of Wyatt. It was not calm acceptance, but rather messy capitulation of a choice that left him with no good options. He could keep fighting this, minimizing it, try to continue to maintain composure, play it off, pretend he was fine or at least more fine than he actually was, but Wyatt knew he wasn’t, and at this point he acknowledged that continuing to try and minimize it had only made things worse and would ultimately leading to concerning Wyatt more. But that meant Alec had to make the active choice to accept Wyatt’s help. He was despairingly negotiating with the idea of accepting Wyatt help and comfort if it meant it would keep from worrying him further.
He took a moment to listen to the sound of Wyatt breathing when he could hear it in between his own gasps. His attempt to match Wyatt’s breathing, his tries to match it but it comes out as jerky and exaggerated like something not quite human trying to mimic the way they breathe. His inhale was too sharp, as if it were a sort of theatrical gasp, he overcorrected for what he felt was lack of oxygen inhaling too much air too quickly. He followed Wyatt’s exhale but Alec’s came out as a choke rather than a steady release of air, the panicked muscles constricting around his throat before he had time to exhale, trapping the air in his lungs.
He tried to force his body to comply for Wyatt’s sake. He couldn’t even do that. He can’t-
He can’t even do this.
He’s making it worse.
The library was silent except for the sounds of their breathing. Alec’s loud disruptive gasps. Alec’s broken breath disturbing the atmosphere. But Wyatt’s… His was so quiet. So easy. So perfect. And so unlike Alec’s.
He’s taken by surprise when Wyatt’s voice breaks through the sound of their breaths. The content of Wyatt’s reassurances also took Alec by surprise. He knew exactly what Alec needed to hear and it unnerved him in that way only people who knew you deeply and read you well could. He still hadn’t stopped with those silent assurances he spoke to himself in the back of his mind. Wyatt voiced those aloud.
On top of it, he sought to remind Alec that it was just the two of them. The tense features on Alec’s face softened, but not out of relief. A pitying sort of look that felt ironic on the face of someone who was struggling for breaths. He didn’t get it, did he? Alec knew what he was trying to say and why, but Wyatt also didn’t seem to get that this was Alec’s worst nightmare. It was just them, so if Alec didn’t die he was faced with something he couldn’t brush off to talk about later(and then never talk about it). He couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.
Wyatt started focusing on breathing again. With no other choice Alec followed suit and tried again. Despite his attempts to try to make changes to the way he mimicked Wyatt’s breaths, no progress was made and his breath caught in his throat. This happened again, and again, and again.
At some point Wyatt’s hand had moved to Alec’s shoulder, he squeezed Alec’s shoulder gently reminding him of his presence as Alec tried again. The next time was different, his inhale still faulty and sharp, desperate, but he was able to pause for a second after, not immediately rushing to exhale. When he exhaled, it was broken, but it was closer. His exhale a long, shaky, shuddering sound, it was far from the smoothness in Wyatt’s breath but it was more controlled than his prior frantic gasps.
Alec’s breathing is imperfect. One inhale is too large or too fast, and the next exhale too long. His rhythm is similar to a pair of unskilled dancers trying to follow and keep up with one another, constantly fumbling and stepping on each other's toes but eventually finding a shared rhythm. The resulting rhythm was imperfect, and felt more forced and mechanical than a natural peaceful flow, but it was something. Every so often Alec would forget the forceful effort he needed to put in to breathe and slow himself down, he would slip back to more desperate gasps for a bit… The pain in his chest would get sharper and his heart faster as he was reminded of the concerted effort he needed to make, and he’d work his way back again.
His body was still uncontrollably freaking out, but it was more manageable. It took Alec a good ten minutes to get to a place weren’t locked up, and he didn’t feel petrified in place. It was unusual for him to get stuck like that, he could only recall one other time where that happened.
The hand not resting of the table now lifted towards his neck. His hand gently rubbing and pulling at the skin on the front of his neck as a self-soothing gesture. Now that Alec had more freedom of movement, there was the instinctual urge to move to the floor. He usually sat down when he felt the onset, this sort of snuck up on him.
The pain in his chest was still there and while Alec was more present in the physical space than he was earlier, his heart felt like he was running a marathon. He was dizzy and disoriented and still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t dying. At least it hurt less.
Alec opened his eyes slowly. The world wasn’t quite as clear from the creeping blurriness as he preferred, but it was less and that was something. His eyes seemed to avoid looking directly at Wyatt. Gaze jumping around but never really meeting his face.
@Wyatt Starkey
Pull it together, you can’t let him see you like this. You’re fine. This isn’t happening, you are not doing this. You’re not. Stop it.
There was a violence in the way the air escaped his lungs, as if the air was being punched out of his lungs before he could even begin to take it in. The tight feeling in his chest and his lungs felt tighter with each missed breath. A sharp pain started to take root like a knife twisting in his lungs.
Breathe- just breathe for Melin’s sake. That’s all you have to do. But you can’t even do that. You’re pathetic. It’s a simple, animal function. You’re failing at being an animal.
It was a simple task, or it should have been but when he tried to slow, tried to breathe his lungs refused to obey. His body is actively working against him at every turn. A prisoner within his own panic flooded body.
He knows
Air.
There’s no air.
He sees what a mess you are
There’s not enough air.
He can’t breathe.
Leave.
He needed to leave.
He needed to get out.
His heart was beating so fast he felt dizzy.
You can’t be seen like this. Especially not by him.
Where was the exit?
Stuck. He was stuck, his body was betraying him once more.
Face.
His face, he couldn’t feel his face.
Why couldn’t he feel his face?
Dying… Was he dying?
He had to be dying. He was going to die.
Heart attacks feel like this don’t they?
But he knew he wouldn’t die. But what if he did this time?
His face was red, clammy, shaky, and with each breath he was desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water. His heart was thrumming out of control, beating so fast it could have burst right out of his chest. Alec for his part had managed to look surprisingly composed despite evidence to the contrary.
Then he felt a weight on his hand. His hand was cold in comparison to Alec’s clammy hand. His presence was so steady, so real. Somehow, that made it worse.
Alec tried to force his own stillness. Trying to enforce what little control he had over the situation to make his panic less pronounced. It was a strange attempt to shield Wyatt and dissuade any concerns he might have had for Alec. He wouldn’t pull his hand away, it’d be the sort of act of visible rejection that only would have been more cause for concern. Instead, he focused all his remaining energy and will to still his hand. It worked for a few seconds, he was still, then his breathing became more regard and the tremor in his hand worse than before.
Wyatt’s other hand was rubbed the side of Alec’s arm. There was a deep uncomfortability in his awareness that he was taking up time and space. The muscles in his arm tensed and his breath caught in his throat. He continued to hold his breath, going against the urge to gasp for air in a painful, strained manner, turning reflex into a concerted effort to censor himself. A panicked attempt to still himself and stifle the sound of his gasping. With each moment up and down Alec’s bicep, his arm repeatedly straightened and tensed. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully accept that he was worthy of Wyatt’s kindness in that moment.
Finally Alec’s lungs screaming out in pain could not take it anymore and a low, choked sound escaped his throat. Not a full-throated gasp but rather a strangled noise of pure self-loathing. His attempt to not sound as desperate in his gasping for air as he truly was and yet it sounded worse than his gasping. His attempt to quiet himself was futile and ultimately useless anyway because it only took a few of those strangled sounds before he was right back to loud full-throated gasps for air.
Wyatt’s hand moved to Alec’s chest. Alec opted to ignore the reality that Wyatt was far too cognizant of how panicked Alec actually was. Wyatt asked Alec to breath with him. Wyatt’s presence was unwavering, Alec was exhausted and worn down from trying to minimize himself, and what he was experiencing in front of Wyatt. It was not calm acceptance, but rather messy capitulation of a choice that left him with no good options. He could keep fighting this, minimizing it, try to continue to maintain composure, play it off, pretend he was fine or at least more fine than he actually was, but Wyatt knew he wasn’t, and at this point he acknowledged that continuing to try and minimize it had only made things worse and would ultimately leading to concerning Wyatt more. But that meant Alec had to make the active choice to accept Wyatt’s help. He was despairingly negotiating with the idea of accepting Wyatt help and comfort if it meant it would keep from worrying him further.
He took a moment to listen to the sound of Wyatt breathing when he could hear it in between his own gasps. His attempt to match Wyatt’s breathing, his tries to match it but it comes out as jerky and exaggerated like something not quite human trying to mimic the way they breathe. His inhale was too sharp, as if it were a sort of theatrical gasp, he overcorrected for what he felt was lack of oxygen inhaling too much air too quickly. He followed Wyatt’s exhale but Alec’s came out as a choke rather than a steady release of air, the panicked muscles constricting around his throat before he had time to exhale, trapping the air in his lungs.
He tried to force his body to comply for Wyatt’s sake. He couldn’t even do that. He can’t-
He can’t even do this.
He’s making it worse.
The library was silent except for the sounds of their breathing. Alec’s loud disruptive gasps. Alec’s broken breath disturbing the atmosphere. But Wyatt’s… His was so quiet. So easy. So perfect. And so unlike Alec’s.
He’s taken by surprise when Wyatt’s voice breaks through the sound of their breaths. The content of Wyatt’s reassurances also took Alec by surprise. He knew exactly what Alec needed to hear and it unnerved him in that way only people who knew you deeply and read you well could. He still hadn’t stopped with those silent assurances he spoke to himself in the back of his mind. Wyatt voiced those aloud.
On top of it, he sought to remind Alec that it was just the two of them. The tense features on Alec’s face softened, but not out of relief. A pitying sort of look that felt ironic on the face of someone who was struggling for breaths. He didn’t get it, did he? Alec knew what he was trying to say and why, but Wyatt also didn’t seem to get that this was Alec’s worst nightmare. It was just them, so if Alec didn’t die he was faced with something he couldn’t brush off to talk about later(and then never talk about it). He couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.
Wyatt started focusing on breathing again. With no other choice Alec followed suit and tried again. Despite his attempts to try to make changes to the way he mimicked Wyatt’s breaths, no progress was made and his breath caught in his throat. This happened again, and again, and again.
At some point Wyatt’s hand had moved to Alec’s shoulder, he squeezed Alec’s shoulder gently reminding him of his presence as Alec tried again. The next time was different, his inhale still faulty and sharp, desperate, but he was able to pause for a second after, not immediately rushing to exhale. When he exhaled, it was broken, but it was closer. His exhale a long, shaky, shuddering sound, it was far from the smoothness in Wyatt’s breath but it was more controlled than his prior frantic gasps.
Alec’s breathing is imperfect. One inhale is too large or too fast, and the next exhale too long. His rhythm is similar to a pair of unskilled dancers trying to follow and keep up with one another, constantly fumbling and stepping on each other's toes but eventually finding a shared rhythm. The resulting rhythm was imperfect, and felt more forced and mechanical than a natural peaceful flow, but it was something. Every so often Alec would forget the forceful effort he needed to put in to breathe and slow himself down, he would slip back to more desperate gasps for a bit… The pain in his chest would get sharper and his heart faster as he was reminded of the concerted effort he needed to make, and he’d work his way back again.
His body was still uncontrollably freaking out, but it was more manageable. It took Alec a good ten minutes to get to a place weren’t locked up, and he didn’t feel petrified in place. It was unusual for him to get stuck like that, he could only recall one other time where that happened.
The hand not resting of the table now lifted towards his neck. His hand gently rubbing and pulling at the skin on the front of his neck as a self-soothing gesture. Now that Alec had more freedom of movement, there was the instinctual urge to move to the floor. He usually sat down when he felt the onset, this sort of snuck up on him.
The pain in his chest was still there and while Alec was more present in the physical space than he was earlier, his heart felt like he was running a marathon. He was dizzy and disoriented and still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t dying. At least it hurt less.
Alec opened his eyes slowly. The world wasn’t quite as clear from the creeping blurriness as he preferred, but it was less and that was something. His eyes seemed to avoid looking directly at Wyatt. Gaze jumping around but never really meeting his face.
@Wyatt Starkey