Story info:
Whump tropes: Lung issues/difficulty breathing, panic attack
Spoilers: S6 E2 California Part Two
Summary: It started as a way to deal with the stress. Now he's sitting on the linoleum floor of Cloud 9 and, no matter how hard he tries, he can't breathe.
Nicotine by Panic! At the Disco
Cross my heart and hope to die
Burn my lungs and curse my eyes
I've lost control and I don't want it back
I'm going numb, I've been hijacked
It's a fucking drag
...
I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you
So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do
Yeah, you're worse than nicotine
Another alarm going off, another drive to work, another solid 9 hours in a row of pretending he was okay.
Jonah tried to ignore the pitiful stares he got from his coworkers as he plastered on a fake smile to customers who couldn't even be bothered to look at his name tag. He didn't, couldn't talk about the breakup. It had been weeks, but it was still too fresh. He'd gone from a man in love about to make his beautiful girlfriend his fiancee, to a man living in his ex-girlfriend's house with a formerly homeless coworker who poops in the shower.
You'd need something to take the edge off too, right?
He'd never considered taking up the habit before. His parents, wanting him to be the perfect child, ingrained in his head from day one that smoking was for deadbeat homeless people. If he smoked, drank, did drugs, or had sex before marriage, he was damned to hell. He wouldn't get into college, no girl would ever want him, and he'd die lonely.
With his car in the shop, Jonah had to take the bus home from work. It was nearly midnight at that point. He'd said his half-hearted goodbyes to his coworkers and started the trek to the bus stop when the downpour started, melancholy clouds of grey shedding their weight on Jonah's thin jacket. He was soaked by the time finally arrived at the, thankfully, sheltered bus stop.
He tried not to look like a bumbling idiot as he sat on the bench, his freezing clothes clinging to his skin and seeping into his bones. He wiped a damp hand at his face to wipe away the droplets racing down his eyelashes and cheeks.
The only other occupant of the stop, a grey-haired man in a Carhartt jacket with leathery skin and a gruff demeanor, smirked at the retail worker as he drew into himself to conserve whatever heat he could. Jonah stared at the concrete below, anything to distract him from the awkward silence he had created with his bedraggled appearance.
"Swam here, huh?" the raspy voice from across the bench remarked, kind eyes sizing up the younger man.
Jonah sheepishly looked up, barely making eye contact with the stranger. "You could say that," he chuckled slightly, but the laughter never reached anywhere beyond his mouth.
"Geez kid," the man breathed, fully taking in Jonah's soaked frame. "You must be freezing."
Jonah looked up, not trying to fake any happy emotions this time. The cold, the wetness, the preexisting depressive state...he had nothing left to give. "Yeah."
The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a lighter and a pack of Marlboro's, pulling a stick out of the pack. "You smoke?"
Jonah vigorously shook his head, little droplets of moisture dripping off of his mussed hair. "No, I don't."
"Really?" The man chuckled humorously. "With that look in your eyes, you think you'd be doing something."
Jonah's eyebrows knitted in apprehension. "Excuse me?"
"Stop shitting me son. I know that look. No one looks that way just because they got wet." Jonah looked back down at his hands fiddling with the zipper on his jacket, not saying anything. "What was her name?"
Jonah was quiet, not really wanting to give this stranger any reward for overstepping his boundaries, no matter how accurate he was about Jonah's current state.
The man retracted the outstretched hand containing the lighter and cigarette, his mouth forming a thin line of understanding. "My Connie left me 10 years ago. Ran off to Colorado with the neighbor's husband. Said that she needed space, that I was too demanding." The stranger bit one end of the cigarette while lighting the other end with practiced precision, blowing out the smoke in a relaxed exhale. "He was the local pastor at our church, and the worst part was that he was the one who made me want to be a better man. He spoke well. Probably a little too well, in hindsight." He looked over again at Jonah, who was cautiously staring back. "I know this here's a bad habit, but it was the only thing that got me through that divorce...and I don't see anything wrong with doing what I need to do to take away the pain."
There was a moment of silence before Jonah held out his hand and took a cigarette from the stranger.
"Her name is Amy."
And thus the habit began.
Of course he didn't tell anyone. It wasn't anybody's business. Marcus found out eventually, finding Jonah out on the porch with a cigarette lit in his hand, but Jonah was pretty sure that he was just excited to have another secret between two "best buds." He wouldn't tell anyone. Besides, Marcus had been the one to try to start a human milk franchise - Jonah doubted anyone would take him seriously anyways.
Smoking had helped. Although he always felt just a bit nauseous, and his spit came out a little bloody every time he brushed his teeth, the sweet, calming sensation of the smoke entering and leaving his lungs soothed him. It felt grounding, like it gave him space to think. He knew it wasn't healthy, and, if Jonah was completely honest, he really wasn't addicted. He never felt an "urge" to smoke - it was just something he did when he needed it. When the loneliness was too much, or he couldn't stop thinking about the family he'd had taken away from him. Maybe smoking was bad for him, but so was dwelling on the could've been's - in Jonah's mind, this was much healthier.
Until it happened.
He was on register, checking out his line of customers like normal, until he saw her.
He saw the neatly curled dark brown hair reach down and pick up the dark-haired boy in the cart in front of her.
Jonah's heart starting beating out of his chest. What was she doing here? Did something happen in California? Was it Adam?
The scanner fell from his hand and clattered to the floor as the shock started to make his chest tighten and ache. No, no, no, no, no, no, it couldn't be her. What was he going to say? What about Parker?
And then she turned around, the unfamiliar baby in her arms, and Jonah saw her for what she was. A stranger. A random woman who happened to look like Amy from behind.
So how come he still couldn't breathe?
His hand came up to his chest as he coughed, irritated lungs rattling at each convulsion. Jonah began to panic even further when black spots fluttered in the corners of his vision, his chest burning with a pain that was indescribable.
He vaguely heard the concerned woman ask if he was okay as Jonah's coughs intensified, the discomfort and tightening worsening with each labored breath. Jonah reached out blindly to the counter in front of him for stability only for his arm to give out from underneath him as he collapsed to his knees.
Someone came up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, said his name, tried to get him to take deep breaths, but he couldn't. He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't. There was an elephant on his chest, digging knives into his ribcage and sending waves of pain through his throat and skull. And he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe -
"Mr. Simms?"
An unfamiliar voice called out to him from the depths of the darkness surrounding him.
"Mr. Simms, can you hear me?"
He groaned, heavy eyes unwilling to open, but aching pain in his throat, chest, and head presenting itself with a vengeance. He just wanted to go back to sleep.
"Thank you, sir - can you open your eyes for me?"
I would if I could, lady, but no can do.
Then of course they had to shine a light in his eyes, and then he was really awake.
His left arm shot out wildly in the direction of the voice, a gentle hand catching the limb and setting it down on the bed. "You're okay, sir, don't worry. Do you remember what happened?"
Jonah looked at the nurse, a middle-aged woman with dyed blonde hair and a calming presence. As he did so, he became aware of the bulky oxygen mask taking up a large portion of his face, supplying his nose and mouth with warm, comforting, clean air. It was nice.
Jonah nodded sluggishly, the events of what happened at work coming back to him swiftly. He felt his face flush at the way he'd reacted to the misunderstanding - how pathetic was it that even just the thought of seeing Amy sent him spiraling like that? He was in the HOSPITAL for God's sake.
"Good to hear that you remember, Mr. Simms," the nurse continued, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Jonah's arm. "We did a chest x-ray of your lungs and it looks like you have a little bit of fluid in your lungs, and when you went into that panic attack at work your body couldn't handle the stress. We've got you on some oxygen now."
Jonah slowly nodded as the cuff squeezed his arm in a controlled fashion. "Can I go home?" He rasped, voice slightly muffled by the mask.
"We're going to keep you for a few more hours for observation, but your oxygen sats are looking better so I'm thinking you should be able to go home by tonight," the nurse assured him, writing down the numbers that popped up on the machine. "Is there anyone we can call for you?"
Jonah stupidly felt his eyes well up with tears at the realization of the answer. "No. There's no one."
The nurse turned and saw the look of defeat on his face and her expression melted into one of sympathy. "Hey, it's okay. I know you're sore right now but you're going to be just fine. You'll just need to take it easy for a couple of days."
Jonah nodded, eyelids drooping as sleep beckoned for him.
"Oh honey, you go ahead and go to sleep, okay? You'll feel better when you wake up."
No, no I won't.
Of all the people he thought he'd see at the bus stop when he was finally discharged, Dina Fox was not at the top of the list. Jonah was about to turn around and walk away, not wanting to have the awkward conversation that would surely follow, when he heard Dina call out, "Jonah?"
Shit.
"Jonah, I was hoping I'd see you here."
Jonah slowly turned around, walking over to the seat next to his boss, where Dina eagerly gestured for him to sit.
It was quiet for a moment before Dina spoke again. "How are you feeling?"
Jonah nodded absentmindedly as he responded. "The doctor says I'm fine, I just need to take it easy-"
"Jonah," Dina interrupted, his face the most serious that Jonah had ever seen it. "How are you really?'
Jonah swallowed painfully, not liking the implications of her tone. "I'm fine. I'm just sore." Jonah knew that Dina understood that the aches weren't all physical.
It was quiet again, another abnormality when it came to Dina, before the store manager broke the silence again. "Marcus told me you've been smoking for about a month now."
Jonah didn't make eye contact when he replied, "all due respect, that - that's really not your business."
"It kind of is when you pass out in my store."
"I had a panic attack."
"Yeah I know," Dina snapped. "Right in front of that customer who looked a whole damn lot like Amy, too. Was that just a coincidence?"
"Dina," Jonah said, voice low, "I appreciate you reaching out - in your own little way - but you're - you're overstepping. I'm fine now. I'll be at work tomorrow."
"No you're not."
Jonah sighed aggressively. "Dina -"
"No, Jonah, you're not coming into work tomorrow." Dina looked Jonah in the eye with a fierceness that just dared him to look away and see what would happen if he did. "You're staying home, and Garrett is going to stay there with you, and you two are going to talk about what's bothering you."
Jonah sat there, just staring, mouth agape at the empathy coming from his normally apathetic superior. "What-"
"We've all seen it, Jonah," Dina continued. "You barely talk to anyone. Your stats are fine - and thank God for that - but you're disengaged from everyone else, and everyone can see why." As Jonah remained mute, Dina went on. "It's understandable to not be okay, Jonah. No one expects you to be. But you don't have to keep it all bottled up, away from everyone - you can talk to us, the people you care. Don't punish yourself like this, or you'll keep ending up in this place."
Jonah sat astonished for several moments before finally responding. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Dina assured him. "Take it easy. I'm only giving you tomorrow off. We really need you in appliances this Saturday, so if you could somehow get past this by then, that would really work best with my schedule."
Jonah chucked, comforted by the return of Dina's regular personality. "Of course. I'll try."
As the bus pulled into the stop, Dina and Jonah said their goodbyes, and as Dina walked back towards her truck, Jonah paused at the entrance of the greyhound, before backtracking slightly to a nearby trashcan, throwing away the half-gone pack of smokes in his jacket pocket, and boarding the bus home.
I don't even know if I like this lol everyone's a little bit out of character but I really wanted to try this trend out. Please let me know if you think I should continue this series! Love you all 3