Hi its 2:38 AM and I just had a panic attack after a couple nights of possibly dissociating from the amount of pain my body has decided to gift me for no good reason. Am alive. I think. Anyway put life experience into writing so have another short Crow/Guardian fic. I might not upload this one to AO3, dunno. I feel like I’ll need to edit it a whole bunch, but if it fits ya cup of tea I’d like to know.
No tw/cw because it’s not super distressing, but it does describe some panic attack symptoms.
BREATH
Breathe in.
Hold the breath. But don’t strain your lungs.
Breathe out.
Focus. Focus on making each breath even.
Breathe in.
The breath in stutters, in his mind he sees flashes of something he feels more than he can remember. It’s overwhelming, bile and anxiety rising up, hastening the panic, forcing him to sink within it.
Breathe out.
His breath is shaky and uneven on the exhale. He’s trembling. Hands shaking, he makes loose fists in his lap.
Bre—
The shuddering inhale stops and he hiccups. His chest constricts and he’s trembling so hard that not even balling his hands into fists can make it stop. He breath starts fluttering, fast, and too short.
“Oh…oooh no…”
Crow’s weak voice trails off into a silent cry. The panic he was barely restraining spills over and he begins to curl in over himself. A wrecked sob tears free of his lips and he shudders. The tremor spreads over his thin frame, enveloping his body.
Behind him, a prone figure in the bed stirs. Crow’s uneven, rapid breathing and quiet sobs barely break the silence of the night. But it’s loud enough.
Rolling over, the Guardian wakes. She understands immediately.
He’s gasping for air that doesn’t reach him. No matter how fast Crow’s chest rises, nothing seems to alleviate the feeling of him falling. Of the air sucked away from his lungs. Sinking. Pressed upon. Being consumed by something so dark, so insidious it eats him from the inside out while swallowing him whole. He’s so cold. He’s alone. He’s drowning in air. He’s fading. He’s going to become noth—
Warmth melts into his back and strong arms wrap around him. They’re pulling him away. Up out of the mire.
The body at his back exhales deeply and inhales slowly. Gentle hands weave through his clenched fists, loosing his fingers and ghosting softly over broken skin.
Crow feels his chest lighten as his breaths begin to sync with the Guardian’s. She continues to breath in and out, calmly and slowly.
“Mmhhmm.”
Crow tries and fails to speak, words temporarily lost in his duress. He can only push out a torn humming.
The Guardian takes his hands into hers and kisses the back of his head. She knows he’s better now. Not okay, not alright, but he will be.
Crow settles, relaxing stiff shoulders, and stretching legs cramped from curling in mid-panic attack. The Guardian shifts behind him to accommodate, sticking close to his side. She holds one of his hands over his chest, head tucked over his. Safe. He’s safe here.
The Guardian’s measured breathing eases as she falls back asleep, but even then Crow pays attention to her slower, rhythmic breaths. He times his own to match hers. In minutes he’s drowsy, eyes half open. Crow raises their tangled hands to his lips and plants a reverent kiss on the Guardian’s hand. Love.
He lets their hands fall back to his chest and breathes out, content. He breathes in with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And on the next set of breaths he’s peacefully asleep.
WAIT IT’S NOT THE WEE HOURS OF A NEW DAY?? 9:15 pm. I couldn’t wait to add another little bit of ficlet to this poetry. Wheeeeee
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name (You, Carol Ann Duffy)
Shin awakens, unrested and irritated to find it several hours before dawn back on Earth. Laying on his side, he stares down the length of his arms. How his hands had unconsciously reached for something —someone— as he had slept. His empty palms and the cooler sheets beneath them cause a yearning to break free within his ribcage.
WELCOME BACK IT’S 2:49 AM ON DAY THREE OF I CANNOT SLEEP. OKAY SO MAYBE IT’S DAY FOUR, I’m really not sure at this point and that’s not as concerning as it should be to me at this point BUT ITS TIME FOR FIC POSTING SO SIT DOWN AND BUCKLE UP BECAUSE SAFETY FIRST ON THIS RIDE TO HELL
First bits is a little bit of a bit bit so it’s a double feature again ((:
like a tiger ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.
He’s the only flame to have met his fire and ire with no shortage of sparks or fuel. They thrive off of the other. Off the violence they each court. Shin has only known a life of ashes and blood. He has only known survival.
Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in.
To him, he could have been, would have been, should have stayed his nightmare. Shin knows this, yet as much as he tries to be that great shadow, the more it drags him down. In his eyes, he could make sense of a mad world; use a twisted frame to build straight objects. He sees it only in fleeting flashes arising deep within his sea colored eyes —but Shin is sure he’s seen it truthfully: hope. Shin thinks that is the most beautiful thing about him.
