A/N: Trigger warning for panic attacks and flashbacks. (I feel like all along I should be giving a trigger warning for super unhealthy thought patterns. So many of the ways Gray labels himself and frames his past are lies he's created to survive. That can be hard to read, so if you need to stop or skip parts, go for it.)
Chapter 10: Panic Attack
Gray didn't know what set it off.
It might've been when he nicked himself with the razor, a mesmerizing red trail sliding down his jaw. Blood had a manic effect on his psyche sometimes.
It might've been that he'd just been thinking about it all too much, the thoughts too near the surface. Maybe it was because Natsu was wonderful, people kept looking at them, and Gray was scared. Vulnerable. Stupid anxieties kept rising, a low-level static humming through his body.
He knew the moment the panic was coming for him.
The first thing he felt was the ghost of cold on his neck. Then he started shaking. Adrenaline hit him and locked his muscles in silent battle.
He knew he shouldn't keep shaving while his hands were trembling this much, but he did anyway, wanted to finish up and get this out of the way before his mind tore apart—if he could beat the ticking clock of his thoughts. He hated when panic interrupted his routines and halted him in the middle of things.
Thinking about the blades scraping across his chin was something of a distraction for a few moments. Sharp edges, drawn over skin…
Putting those little blades away was harder than it should've been.
Staring at himself in the mirror, noting his pale skin, he felt his wrists being held in hard fingers that didn't exist. Even though there was nothing visible, the other reality hijacked his senses, making it real.
He remembered the sharp edges of things: fingernails digging into his skin, the corner of a table stabbing his hip. Cold soaked through him at the memories. He was ice: hard, cold, sweating.
If he was numb enough, they wouldn't be able to touch him. Nothing could touch him. He would watch from inside while it happened, would feel it, but wouldn't feel it. If he were dead, he couldn't feel it.
Gods, he was so terrified.
He fought the flashbacks. Fought against seeing it again, while tears spilled over his cheeks. His stomach churned, deciding for him that what was unfolding in his mind was horrible, vomit-worthy. No, it's not, he thought furiously. It's the way of the world.
But the past sunk its teeth into him.
No matter how much he told himself that none of it mattered, some part of him was still horrified at the injustice, wrongness, and pain of it all. Some part of him still protested and fought, as if he were worth more than what was done to him.
Gray watched his face in the mirror—his grown-up adult face with the dribble of red on his jawbone—and felt the stabbing pain in his legs. He heard a voice. He couldn't move.
Some part of Gray knew he was in the present and they couldn't touch him here, but safety was a lie. Safety was a place where his mind held him captive and made him watch them do that to him over and over again. He could smell it, the sweat and the floral scent. Like it really was about to happen to him again. Oh god.
Pain spiked through his arms and up his neck, an echo ringing through him. It hurt so much.
When shaking took over, he stumbled to the floor of the bathroom. His legs rose up around him, knees meeting his shoulders, ramparts holding him in. He felt the pain moving over him and curled tighter into a ball.
When Gray closed his eyes, his mind fractured and fell apart.
He was cold. People could touch him whenever they wanted. He was so small. He couldn't struggle, and if he could, it wouldn't do any good. He was too terrified to do magic.
The cold took him over until his ice was far, far away. He hiccoughed down a sob. Powerless.
Putting his hands over his wet face, he realized he was crying. The small, sane corner of his mind sneered: he was pathetic. Curled up on the floor weeping, breaths wracking out of him, nothing under his control.
He was terrified someone would see him like this. He was weak. Nothing had changed over the past eleven years. Nothing ever would: he was useless. One day, people would see him like this, and it would be all over.
A crash in the other room made his heart leap into overdrive.
Gasping, he scuffled back into the corner behind the door. The crashing sound had been in this grownup reality.
It was all happening again. No, no, no.
With panic throbbing through his head, he pressed as far back into the dark corner as he could go. Nobody would find him here. He tried to get his breaths to cooperate, pinched a hand over his nose and mouth so he couldn't let out the sobs. Maybe he could die.
"Gray!" a voice shouted.
Footsteps, pounding closer. Gods, no. They would find him. He didn't want it to happen again.
Gray was getting dizzy from the lack of air. Maybe if he was lucky he would suffocate before they got here. The air would leave his body forever and he would be free. It would all be over.
He was tired and aching and his whole body hurt, from the tortured strain of his muscles to the sharp pains in his ass. As he strangled himself, knives pierced his lungs. They drowned out his thoughts so he couldn't focus.
He wanted to throw up.
"Gray!" someone yelled, and the door to the bathroom burst open.
Natsu hurtled in.
Part of Gray leapt, yelling safety, while another part shrieked in terror because here it was, here was hell, yet another person come to take him by force in shattering agony, and Gray knew he wouldn't be able to fight against those steely arms when they held him down—
The other man thudded onto his knees beside him and Gray screamed.
"No! Get off—get off!"
Hands clawed into his shoulders. He covered his face, every part of him certain of what came next.
He wanted to die.
That's when the last, worst part of Gray spoke up. You're not good. Broken. Never good enough. It's all a lie.
Gray rocked back and forth, waiting for what they would do to him.
"Gray, it's me!" the man shouted, barely audible over the voices in Gray's head. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
Gray whimpered, trying to pull into a smaller ball. They always treated him nicely in the beginning. He didn't deserve it. They would be so kind, take care of him, and then—it was just a small thing, wouldn't hurt, help us out, repayment, let me show you…
Gray's hand slid off his face as he hyperventilated. Heart hurt. Everything hurt.
The desperate voice above him softened: "It's okay, Gray. I'm here. Everything is going to be okay."
Arms enveloped him: hot, burning arms, followed by breathy murmurs against his skin. Frantic, Gray tried to push away, but the arms held on. Gray fell apart, every part of him on fire, writhing against the torture that hadn't even begun yet. He was crying and screaming and they hadn't even done anything to him yet, oh gods, oh gods.
As Gray's terror reached an absolute, another reality screamed Natsu at him over and over as if it should mean something.
The warm breath on his neck. The arms holding him. Not torturing him yet.
Oh gods. This was real. He wasn't in control. Natsu was here, and Gray wasn't in control.
The arms had pulled Gray into a lap, legs wrapping around him in a full-body hug that blew up what was left of Gray's mind. Touches everywhere. His pulse was shooting holes in his chest.
The head on Gray's shoulder tilted against him, pink hair filling his peripheral. Pink hair.
It really was Natsu.
Gray pulled tighter into himself and cried.
Torrents rushed through him, too loud to make out any other sound. He couldn't hear himself weeping. All his broken places cried out. He felt his ragged breaths as eight-year-old Gray tried to hide and run. He would fail. He always failed. He couldn't hide from them.
They always touched him, in all the ways he hated but deserved, and then they left. To pounce again when he got his feet under him.
Gray was so tired of running.
He was tired of holding on, knowing at any moment he could fly apart. He'd thought this time, after so long, it was over and he was better. That he'd escaped from that part of himself.
He collapsed against Natsu's body, trusting the strong arms to take care of him because he couldn't do it himself. This once he did what he never did: he gave in and let someone else be in charge. He was so, so exhausted.
Slowly, the terror was coming to an end.
Natsu held him securely, rocking back and forth a little, hand running through Gray's hair. He seemed to feel the difference as Gray sagged into him, and began to murmur in Gray's ear.
"I smelled traces of your blood outside, and when you didn't open the door… I'm sorry if I scared you."
Through the haze, Gray tried to latch onto words. Blood. Scared.
The last vestiges of sobs kept him from speaking and he was dizzy from too much oxygen. World spinning, he pressed against his Salamander for stability. Natsu held on without wavering even as the world seemed to flip upside down.
It took several minutes for the dizziness to abate.
Finally, Gray rasped, "Blood?"
"You cut yourself." Natsu touched Gray's jaw. "It's not bad or anything."
Gray's eyes wandered around the bathroom, found the sink.
"Was shaving."
"Shouldn't you be an expert at that by now?" Natsu teased gently. He buried his nose in Gray's hair and chuckled. "That said, I cut myself twice yesterday, so you're a genius compared to me."
Gray couldn't smile. But a tiny part of him grew a little bit lighter.
Natsu snuffled against his head, seeming content to cuddle on the cold tile. It wasn't that chilly anymore, actually. At least, Gray couldn't feel if it was cold, numb in his ice like normal. Normal. He had his ice back.
He could feel heat: the fire mage was warm and Gray was cocooned inside the furnace of his embrace. Even though Gray was sweating, he didn't want it to stop—it was so comforting. While his heart throbbed, worn out, his muscles shook like he'd just run miles. His mind was still running. Ungrounded. Undone. He had to grab onto something or the torrent would sweep him back in.
"Why'd you come?" Gray croaked.
"Do I need an excuse anymore, snowflake?" Natsu smiled against Gray's hair. "You weren't at the guild, so I came looking for you."
Gray leaned back, pushing Natsu into sitting up straight so Gray could drop his head backward onto Natsu's shoulder.
"Throat hurts," Gray muttered, staring at the ceiling. "I should probably get some water."
Gray didn't move and Natsu didn't let go.
"Gray," Natsu whispered, kissing Gray's ear, "what was that?"
"A panic attack."
Gray heard Natsu's stuttered breath loud and clear.
"It could've been worse." Gray tried not to sound sardonic. "Sometimes they can be longer."
"Gray…" Natsu's voice was tremulous.
"I'm okay." Gray reached back and gently caressed Natsu's head. "I'm…returning to normal."
His mind was fucked-up and there was no undoing that. But as long as his past was a secret, it only existed inside his head. He didn't have to relive everything whenever he met someone's eyes. A beautiful lie for him to wear.
"You don't want to talk about it right now," Natsu guessed.
"Not really."
"Later."
Gray sighed. "Sure."
Natsu partially uncoiled from around Gray and they rose together. When they were both on their feet, Natsu kept his arm tight around Gray and guided him out of the bathroom. For once, Gray didn't mind being led. Natsu steered them toward the couch.
"Happy has a mission he wants to go on, and he needs the team, but Erza is refusing to help. Wait til you hear what it is…"
As Natsu slipped effortlessly into the flow of normalcy, Gray let himself drift along on the river of his boyfriend's words. The Dragon Slayer made tea before Gray even registered what he was doing. The familiar flavor loosened his tongue and eventually Gray could form longer sentences than 'mm' and 'no.' When Natsu laughed at something he said, Gray actually smiled.
This used to take hours. Not with Natsu. Everything was better with Natsu.
Natsu kept talking, refusing to let silence linger for too long. At some point, he gave Gray a small, innocent kiss, and Gray returned it, and that turned into longer kisses, just lips against each other.
Finding Natsu's hand loose against his, Gray interlaced their fingers. Natsu's grip closed like a trap.
With every touch, Natsu let him lead—whether that was out of consideration or fearfulness didn't matter because it was what Gray needed. They ended up lying lengthwise on the couch, entwined by necessity since the two of them hardly fit. Despite feeling childish, Gray put his head on Natsu's chest so he could listen to his heartbeat. Its cadence was soothing.
Natsu had at last fallen quiet, lost in his own meditation which involved rubbing a slow circle into Gray's shoulder. Eyes closed against Natsu's chest, an argument broke out in Gray's head.
If I don't bring up what happened, Natsu will forget to ask and we never have to discuss it.
What if it happens again?
It won't. I'm in control.
But it happened today.
I'm calm now. He helped. I've got this.
No you don't. You always break. You'll never be fixed. You're weak and you're going to hurt him. So warn him now before you fall apart again.
"Natsu," Gray breathed.
The circles on his shoulder stopped.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Gray said.
There was a long pause. Eventually the Dragon Slayer spoke.
"I was really worried."
"Sorry."
"Stop apologizing, Gray. You know it's not like that."
Gray relaxed an infinitesimal amount.
"They're caused by remembering…some bad things that happened," he explained slowly. "I think about those things too much and get freaked out."
"You didn't recognize me," Natsu whispered.
"I was caught up in reliving shit." Gray exhaled, sliding a comforting palm over Natsu's chest. "It's hard to focus on the present."
"Does it…hurt?"
Gray flinched. Natsu knew. He somehow knew.
"Why do you ask?"
"You were shaking all over and breathing really fast. I thought you were going to pass out."
"Oh." Gray's stomach lightened as he realized: you don't mean the invisible hands. "Yeah, adrenaline makes you stiff."
"Gray…" There was a terrifyingly long silence. "What do I do to keep it from happening?"
"You? Nothing. I just try not to remember."
"You mean, remember…" Natsu struggled, "…the demon?"
"Deliora. You can say the name."
"Is this all about Deliora?"
"I have a lot of sucky memories," Gray agreed without answering.
"Icicle." Natsu spoke in a flat voice.
It was like Natsu was trying to draw a stinger out of a wound. If you pull the truth out, it'll bleed forever.
"It's complicated," Gray muttered.
"Will you please tell me what I can do?" Natsu asked in desperation.
"Just be you. This is my problem. It doesn't surface often, and when it does, I just have to live through it. It'll always go away, I promise. I just…need you to be patient with me sometimes."
"I'll always do that."
Gray snorted, a bit of humor returning. "You haven't practiced patience in your life, hothead."
"I was patient this afternoon, right?" Natsu asked, worry lacing his tone.
"You were fine," Gray sighed, wishing the mood would lighten. "Is there anything else?"
"Just this."
Natsu's voice was muffled as he pulled Gray into a hug. Gray felt a flood of warmth when the interrogation ended. There was no way in hell he was telling Natsu about the other memories. He was never telling anyone.
He held the Salamander, who was shivering slightly, and enjoyed the heat of his closeness. They were back to being two boys who liked each other. Simple, normal. Nothing desecrated, everything happy.
Gray was back in control.
Chapter 11: Crying Others' Tears