Hello! Aha, what do I say here? I suppose above all, please be really careful reading this story. This was supposed to be a vent, and it has very heavy depictions of a character having a panic attack. I used my own experiences as a crutch in writing this story, so I apologize if something seems off, I loosely based it off my own encounters with this.

Please be careful reading, as this may be triggering to some people. It's fully focused on what Dakota thinks/feels during his attack. Take care, love y'all!

I do not own the characters of Milo Murphy's Law. :)

Shut up.

Eyes forward, mouth shut tight.

Don't say a word.

Fingers wearing the soft fabric of his pant leg, the material worn from constant reuse. It felt soft. Too soft. They felt too tight, even though they were usually baggy.

Keep your mouth shut.

His glasses slipped a little down his nose, but he didn't bother fixing them; he hardly noticed. His eyes, usually so bright and excitable, now lay dormant and dull, watching that one dust ball on the floor with an increasing vacant interest.

Don't think, don't say.

Words, familiar, echoed the air. The tone, familiar, filled the room. It wasn't quiet. It wasn't calm.

Don't. Think.

Selfish.

Was he? Was he, who was sitting on the couch, his arms and back trembling slightly, selfish? Was he, whose tears were starting to pile up on the corner of his eye, a threat of breaking down, really so selfish?

Why was it that he couldn't escape that word?

The voice, he recognized, wasn't as loud. The tone, wasn't as much.

It didn't matter.

Or did it? Was it selfish of him not to pay attention? God, why couldn't he rid himself of that? Why was he…

The voice, it said his name. He wish he heard.

Was he...selfish? Surely he was. If he wasn't, why couldn't he focus on the male that...was talking? Stopped talking? Fuck, why was he so selfish, he couldn't pay attention to anyone else. He really was selfish, wasn't he?

Was that why he couldn't focus on the male that crouched in front of him, hands on his knees?

How could he do this? He was so stupid.

Stop crying.

He was so useless.

Stop trembling.

He was so beyond selfish.

Just stop.

He hardly even recognized the hiccup, even though it moved his entire body- it was just enough for his body to curl forward, collapsing on his knees as he unthinkingly slid off of the couch. His body raised his arms for him, almost instinctively, without his knowing, to circle his frail body, which hid easily underneath his baggy tracksuit.

He wished his mind could clear; he wanted to answer the Brit begging him to look at him.

Head dropping, nails digging, breath cracking- he didn't even realize as his body moved, his mind still a prison of his own doing.

"No-"

The word, what word? He hadn't even realized he'd said it. He didn't realize his body moved, without his will, without his want. What did he want? Could he want something without being selfish? Was he just always like this, always stupid, always wanting, always selfish?

He was, wasn't he.

"Stop-"

Stop what? Why was he saying, why was he talking, just stop.

He wanted to stop, he wanted to stop, too many thoughts, too selfish, too stupid.

He wanted to hold onto the Brit in front of him.

"Please-"

Why couldn't he do anything right? Why couldn't

"-Vinnie, follow me. Do you feel me? Breathe with me."

Voice, voice, familiar voice. A hand, over his, over- his heart? His lungs? So stupid.

Something pressed against his back.

It moved.

He followed it.

A noise, something akin to a wail- wait, was that him?

Embarrassing.

Stupidly embarrassing.

"Just breath Vinnie. Breath in with me. Hold your breath. Breath out with me."

When had his breathing calmed from the sporadic chokes? He could actually breath now. He wasn't choking on his air, lack of air, oxygen? How was he breathing? Idiot.

"There you go. Keep breathing. Stay with me."

When did that voice...it sounded familiar. You're so selfish. Oh, that voice, too. It was so much more familiar.

Shut up. Just shut up.

He told it.

He willed it.

It listened.

One less voice to hear, to bother with. He could hold his attention to the voice that mattered, the one that wasn't screaming in his head, and when had he started breathing normally again? When had he started rocking, listening to the humming behind him- and why was his arms, legs, neck burning hot coal? Was there something running down his leg?

"Vinnie?"

The new voice. Not new. Old. Old? Cavendish. Where had Cavendish come into play? He was never there before, this was a new part of the attacks, why was Cavendish-

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Breath, breath. It's okay. Follow my breaths. There. There you go."

And just like that, the second attack was stopped before Vinnie even knew it was there. And that's what had happened, hadn't it? He now recognized- trembling, quick breaths that were slowing, something thick and slick in his mouth, unwanted tears down his cheeks, a burning feeling where his nails scratched against his skin on his arms, legs, neck, accompanied with the feeling as though something wet were sliding down. He knew he wasn't bleeding though. He cut his nails too short to accidently cut the skin. He thought. He hoped.

Oh.

Holy shit.

And just like that, Vinnie collapsed against Cavendish completely, the male holding him close to his chest from behind. Just like that, any remaining energy he had was washed away, gone with the attack. Holy shit.

He hasn't had an attack like that in ages.

He couldn't believe Cavendish saw.

He couldn't believe anything at the moment. But he couldn't say anything either. He was too tired. Too sleepy. At the moment, he just leaned his back against Cavendish, reveling in the feeling as the taller male rocked them back and forth, whispering gentle little nothings that Vinnie couldn't quite catch. After a few minutes, nearing an exhausted sort of sleep, his jaded mind couldn't catch up with his mouth as he mumbled, "'m sorry C'v...wasn't suppos'ta see...never see...thank yah…"

And before he could try to cover up the ridiculous mumbling, he let the tiredness wash over him gently..

Cavendish sighed, pulling Dakota closer to him. What did that mean? That he wasn't supposed to see? That he was sorry?

He may not be the best in these types of situations, but he would be damned if he didn't help Vinnie the best he could.

Thankfully, it seemed he did well enough. He managed to calm Dakota down after a while of the male wailing and scratching himself in panic, mumbling broken words and sentences of "no", "stop", "useless", "selfish".

…

Well.

"Don't be silly, Vinnie. I'll always be here to help you if you need it. I'm sorry I couldn't be there before, if this happened."

Though he knew the smaller was already long out, exhausted by the attack that lasted a good few minutes, he felt like he needed to say it. Even if Vinnie didn't show much negative emotion around him, save for occasional breakdowns (never anything like this though, goodness), he would always be around to help him through it.

For now though, he continued rocking the male back and forth, humming childhood songs, and reaching for his phone, knowing that Vinnie was going to be undoubtedly hungry once he woke up.

He also added "selfish" and "useless" to his mental list of 'trigger words not to be used around Vinnie.'

And maybe some bandages and cream for the scratches.

Oh, and his favorite chinese restaurant for the after.

"Love you, Vin.

"Sleep well."

Whew. Well then. Hopefully that one wasn't too bad for you readers,, It felt like something I really needed to write, and I did, and it was really helpful. And I just kinda wanted to put it out there lol.

That said, don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything! People will always be there to give a helping hand, like Cavendish helped Dakota :D

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews would be appreciated, and I hope you all have a wonderful morning/afternoon/day/evening/night! Keep on ninja'in! :D