Breathing
He crouches behind a door, his breathing deep and steady. He cannot allow himself anything else. Each and every one of his teachers taught him that panic or nervousness was something he would have to overcome if he wanted to succeed. It didn't matter if it was him and Ian, rappelling down a mountain, him and Jack, trying their hand on baking, or him and Scorpia, teaching him how to shoot. Control your body and mind and you will succeed.
The first step is breathing.
It's a welcome distraction at times. In those seconds when he thinks that the end is near he shifts his focus slightly and in the end he's still alive. He doesn't block out those events that shake his calm, but when he still breathes deeply he's more detached and aware of his surroundings. Perhaps that's why he is still alive. He's not entirely sure why, but why question it when it works?
The second step is persisting.
As long as he can do this everything will be fine. He didn't fall that day when he lost his grip, the cake didn't fall to the floor when he stumbled and the bullet hit its target when it had to. He kept breathing, kept his calm and somehow he was saved.
When his arm is grabbed and held behind him, when his head is forced up to meet those dark eyes, when he is pushed to ground and forced to kneel, when that voice thunders and he keeps quiet, when the sound of running makes his captor hurt him, when his blood drips from his chin to the floor…
He falters at times, but he returns to what he knows.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He hears the click and he recognizes the weapon.
He is aware of his heart increasing its speed. He knows of the sweat soaking his shirt. He is conscious of the blood running down his neck. He feels the air as it travels into his body. He is alert to the fact that this might be his last moment.
But right now that doesn't matter.
He has but one task.
He is quite aware of the barrel pointing at his brain, the metal frighteningly cool against his skin. His breathing is still deep and steady.
A shot sounds.
A body slowly slides to the floor.
It's not his.
He is still breathing.