Rivalshipping Week Day #5
Rivalshipping Week 2021: Comfort/Growth
Anyone who knows me knows I’m a wallflower. Sure, I can beat someone easily in a card game and will tell anyone off when they hurt my friends. A lot more people are learning the latter as they get to know me. Tonight, has afforded me an opportunity to do neither of those things and I stand politely in the corner of the room sipping on my champagne, smiling as people pass me and wishing I could just go home to my son.
Seto’s launch events are coming more frequently as the company picks up steam in turning out new technology. Never one to do something halfway, he makes them red carpet events. Lights, photographers, local celebrities in their finest attire fill the room as waiters offer fancy foods to those milling about, chatting in their affluent circles. My fingers grip tighter around my champagne glass. My friends sometimes make it to these events, but not this time. I’m content to wait for my boyfriend to be rid of the press for a moment.
A waiter offers me some kind of meat with fig jelly or filling or something I know it had figs in it but I’m not paying much attention. I’m hungry and lonely. I chew on it absentmindedly as I look around the room.
When I finally see Seto, I can’t help the large smile that immediately covers my face. He walks toward me with purpose and barely stops to let me greet him before he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the center of the room.
“Come on,” he says flatly. He’s not smiling, but it’s not an angry look either.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, still feeling that something is off.
“I think we need to have a discussion.”
He bites his lip and stops in the middle of all the lights, the people, and the holograms that line the room. “The press wants…they want us to take pictures together.”
I groan. “I told you we needed to talk about how public this relationship would be. I asked you to-“
“I know,” he says, cutting me off. He runs a hand through his hair.
“Well?” I ask. “What did you tell them?”
“I told them my personal life is my personal life and they already have the pictures of us posing together outside on the way in.”
I sigh. “That’s good. But how long will it hold them off?”
I exhale deeply. “I love you but…you have to remember I don’t come from this world.”
“I didn’t either!” he says with an exasperated tone. I finally get a good look at his eyes. They’re pained.
I sigh and stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m just sorry.”
He sighs too. “I didn’t want to come tonight, either, you know.
I tilt my head. “Why not?”
His eyes meet mine again, and I see the anxiety creeping up in them. He never liked talking about how taxing his job was. He used to say it was a waste of time. He had no choice but to show up and put out all the fires at his job and help his company strive for perfection. He used to tell me that any bit of faltering would lead to ruin. One day of letting things slide would make him feel he could get away with half-assing it more often and then it becomes a bad habit that destroys everything. But as I spend more time with him, the more I see the cracks giving way to anxiety attacks and burnout. I hate seeing it happen but as long as I’m around to catch him before he falls too deep into it, I’m happy.
“Do you need to… I don’t know what we can do,” I say, wanting to take him away from all of this. I’d say that we should just leave, but as the man of the hour, that’s not the most plausible thing in the world right now.
He rubs the back of his neck. Is ee sweat starting to form along his hairline. He tugs at the colar of his dress shirt. My heart sinks. It’s the classic signs of one of his pending anxiety attacks.
“I know you’re not ok here,” he mumbles.
“I’m holding my own,” I retort. I can’t have him worrying about me, igornig himself fand adding onto his anxiety.
His breathing is increasing in speed and is shallow. I touch his arm gently. “Come with me to the bathroom.”
He smirks through his harsh breaths. “I know it’s my event, but you don’t need to do me any favors. I may be the VIP here but I’m trying to keep my ego a decent size for tonight.”
I purse my lips, fighting the urge to give into his attempt at humor. I flash him a look that I hope conveys that this is not the time for joking.
“Let’s just go,” I say firmly.
I guide him gently by the hand towards the restroom. When we enter, there are other people at the sinks in front of the mirror. They all look up to us in unison and I see their eyes widen. All of them scramble for the only way out together, leaving us alone.
I pay no mind to what just happened and order Seto to stand along the wall. I grab a paper towel or two, fidgeting as it takes a few seconds too long for the sensor to spit out only a couple inches of paper at a time. I’m killing trees, but I don’t care. I fold up the multiple pieces I managed to get out and run them under cold water from the sinks for a couple of seconds. Behind me, Seto’s panting echoes in the room, sending my heart into overdrive as I try my darndest to move as quickly as possible.
His eyes are closed when I turn back to him. I can tell he’s struggling to breathe. I’m willing to bet his vision had gone cloudy before he closed his eyes. I press the wetted paper towels to his forehead and hold it down.
“Open your eyes,” I whisper.
He groans but obliges me. I hold his face in mine with both hands, keeping the paper towels against his forehead with my thumb.
“Tell me what color I’m wearing,” I say firmly.
“Tell me about my outfit. What do you like about it?
His eyes leave mine and they search my torso as his breaths continue to escape his mouth shallowly and loudly.
“It…” he pauses, trying and failing to catch his breath.
“Seto? Seto stay with me!” I order. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s…” he manages in tween two more shallow breaths. “It’s a shade of blue that… it makes your eyes stand out.”
“Good,” I say, not smiling but feeling secretly flattered. “Tell me more. What else do you see?”
“You’re wearing a…Dark Magician Girl pin on your lavender tie.”
“That’s it,” I say soothingly.
I quietly take his hand again and press it to my chest. “Keep looking at my shirt. Can you breathe with me?”
He winces, as if it’s painful to try and slow his breathing. I wouldn’t doubt that it is to some capacity. This isn’t my first time talking him through an anxiety attack. At least this one was building slowly, and I was able to catch it early. He’s had many worse ones where his breathing was so labored, he screamed anytime he inhaled because of the pain.
“You’re doing great,” I say as I feel him grip my shirt in a fist.
“I’m…wrinkling it,” he observes next about my attire.
“Don’t worry about that,” I whisper. “Just tell me facts about it.”
Seto squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, fighting to control his breathing. He reopens them and looks down again.
“If…if I look closely, I can see stripes.”
I nod. “Good. What about me? Anything else about what I’m wearing? I need you to make me a list.”
“You’re…you’re wearing black pants,” he whispers.
I nod. He’s catching onto our routine again. Listing things doesn’t always come naturally to him, but I’ve seen it work. It’s worked for me before big duels, too.
“Your right shoe is untied.”
Shit. I didn’t even notice that myself.
“Your tie is powder blue”
“You’re wearing a belt I gave you for Christmas last year.”
“Great! You have one more thing.”
He looks me in the eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
I grin, holding back the urge to roll my eyes.
“What about 4 things you can hear? Can you list those?”
“Your voice, the dripping faucet, the beats from the music outside, and that light above you is buzzing.” He lists them all of quickly, but not too much so. His breathing is slowing even though he’s still not getting as much air in with each breath yet as I would prefer.
“What about 3 things you can feel?”
“Your hand, your heartbeat, and the towel is warming up.”
I remove the paper towel from his forehead. I feel his cheek and listen to his breathing, which is nearly where I want it to be. I smile.
“How are you doing? Do we need to keep going?”
He takes a deep exhale through his nose. He shakes his head.
“Well,” he says quickly, “Maybe one more thing.”
“Anything,” I whisper, not removing my hand from his cheek.
“You didn’t get to ask me what’s one thing I can taste.”
I open my mouth to question him, but before I can, his mouth is on mine in a sweet yet passionate kiss. His lips are firm and I open mine to allow his tongue to explore and get the full experience he wanted. When we part, I’m the one panting this time.
“I taste you,” he whispers. “There. I’m all good now.”
I let my eyeroll show this time. “You’re the only person I know who can come out of an anxiety attack and immediately do something like that.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Thank you. Really.”
I smile. “Anytime. Really.”
