"Take your time. Soak."
She opens her mouth to squeak out a protest, but Sesshoumaru closes her bathroom door before she can.
And walks into an all-too familiar mess.
Vertigo washes over him, his chest and throat tightening while spots sparkle in his vision. He sinks down to the floor, hands automatically going to his head as he reminds himself that he's not really suffocating.
A fought-for, ragged breath drags in anyway.
The unmade bed, the strewn laundry, the stench of a microwavable dinner sitting on the counter in a kitchen full of dirty dishes…
Spiraling.
Just like he does.