You can feel it surging through you like a great big wave, the overwhelming panic. You're having another anxiety attack and you know there is no way you can control it. Your heart starts to beat faster, you can feel the vein on your neck pulsing and your hands start shaking uncontrollably. You have to leave the room immediately, get some air, for your lungs are burning as if an unquenchable fire was inside of you.
You get up clumsily and rush to the door, almost running, unaware that everybody is looking at you curiously. Erik with a bit of disapproval, Raven with surprise, and Charles with concern. As soon as you're out of the room, you try to take a deep breath but you gag as nausea finally hits you. You don't know whether to run to the bathroom and wait for the retches to stop or go outside and get some fresh air for your aching lungs.
You finally decide that outside is better and run through endless corridors until you find the front door. Tears are already flowing on your cheeks with the violence of your anxiety. You don't even know what triggered it this time but you both feel sorry and ashamed, and the combination of those two feelings is the worse thing you've ever felt. You so wanted to fit in. Maybe impress them a bit. But now, the only thing that you want is hide in a hole and cry for the rest of your life.
You find a bench as far as you can get from the mansion and crumble on it miserably, trying to take a breath but heaving long painful sobs instead. Your hands clench into fists, draining all the blood from your knuckles and you curl into a ball on the stone bench. Your sobs and the chills from your attack make you shiver. You know there's only one thing to do. Let it pass. Let it have its way. And then, when it's over, you'll head back to the mansion, pack your things and leave.
You wait for the sobs to recede, still in fetus position, when you suddenly feel a warmth in your head, gradually descending into your whole body, easing the shivers. It's like a fleeting touch, as if somebody was hugging you mentally, and then you hear it clearly in your brain:
Just relax. Take a deep breath and relax.
The voice is familiar. Charles's voice. Deep and low. Soothing. You open your eyes and he's right there next to you, concern in his eyes. You thought you'd die of shame if he ever saw you like that, with your puffy eyes and your red face streaked with tears. But you find you couldn't care less as you reach out for him, taking his hands. They feel warm against your cold skin and he closes his fingers on yours, his thumbs gently stroking your knuckles.
"Sshhhhh" he says. "It's going to be alright. Breathe in. Breathe out. You're going to be okay, I promise."
With great difficulty, you try to do what he says. You fill your lungs with air and expel it, but sobs interrupt the process and you end up whining pitifully. He sits down close to you, releasing one of your hands to put his arm around you.
"Here" he says. "Relax. I'm here for you."
His voice has a strange calming effect on you and you put your head on his shoulder with a sigh.
"There you go. Give into it. Let it go. It'll pass. You'll be alright" he repeats, his fingers smoothly caressing your hair as you bury your face completely in his chest.
He is warm and comfortable and you breathe in his smell, letting it pass through you and soothe you. You didn't even know this was what you needed before. You thought fresh air would suffice but now that his scent has filled you, you can feel your breath return to normal. Your heart still pounds against him, but his gentle touch soon gets the better of it and you find yourself completely relaxed and limp in his arms.
His lips are in your hair, kissing the top of your head as soft as feathers, as sweet as butterflies. You heave a deep sigh before looking up at him. He wipes your eyes with his shirtsleeves, very carefully and you sigh again. A frown still creases his brow but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't ask you anything. Best of all, he doesn't ask the question that you dread. Why?
You're about to apologize, because you cannot help it, but he hushes you with a shake of his head, his finger on your lips.
"Never apologize to me. Never. Alright?"
You just nod, swallowing hard. He kisses your eyes, one after the other, before pulling you back in his embrace, murmuring softly in your ear:
"You don't ever have to apologize to anyone anymore."
It seems that time stops as you both sit there, eyes closed, his smooth cheek on yours, the smell of his hair deep in your lungs.
When you finally part after you don't know how long, his lips touch yours fleetingly, leaving you with a deep sense of longing. His fingers twine with yours as you silently make your way back to the mansion, the warmth of him still inside of you.
"Still intending to leave?" he asks as you reach the front door.
Surprise widens your eyes, but of course you should have known you had no secrets for him. Before you even reply, he smiles at you, as if certain what your answer will be.
"Good" he says.
He opens the door to let you in. As you pass in front of him, you're sure you can see a light dancing in his eyes, like a promise that he will always be there for you.