Hey! So I'm at a Girl Scout camp right now and I'm super incredibly anxious lol so I wrote this as a way to cope I guess so uhh it sucks but enjoy my pain and fear!
Nico bit the inside of his cheek as his fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt. So many people, just crowding around him, he needed air.
I'm outside, stupid, he mentally scolded himself. There's plenty of air, use it!
His chest felt tight and his breathing was coming out ragged but quiet, too quiet for anyone to hear and rescue him. Not that he wanted to be rescued. He could manage just fine on his own, if everyone would fucking move so he could get past.
He stepped around people and hurried towards the cabins. Move. He swallowed, eyes on the ground in front of him. Don't look at anyone, he reminded himself, just keep focusing on the ground.
He reached his cabin relatively safe, save for the anxiety bubbling up inside him. Walk straight, he reminded himself. Don't walk weird. You're okay.
As soon as he was inside and the door was shut, he leaned against it and slid down into a crumpled heap, threading his fingers through his hair. He could still breathe, but his heart was racing and thumping against his chest like a caged animal trying to escape and he wanted it to stop, he wanted it all to fucking stop, "please," he whispered to himself.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his blade, unwrapping it carefully. Cuts on your fingers stung like a bitch. He yanked his arm out of his sleeve and pressed the blade down to slide it across quickly. He breathed in sharply at the pain but kept his arm steady and did it again. Focus on the sting, he thought.
Crimson blood trickled down his arm and he almost laughed at how perfectly aesthetic this was to him. It shouldn't be, but it was. His breathing had picked up pace again, heart still racing as he cut again and again. Despite the too fast heartbeat and uneven breathing, this was calming, familiar. It was good. It was something he could control. He felt too out of control when he was anxious and he could regain it this way.
He dug in a little deeper and tilted his head back, eyes closing. It felt good. He needed the release, he craved it. This was good.
He dropped the blade and grabbed at tissues to press onto the open wounds. He felt different- not better, exactly, but calmer and in control and safe, and that was all that mattered to him.
So if anyone actually didn't hate this please leave a review and like! I'd love to know what you thought.