[description of a panic attack, discrimination (based on mutant status), mentions of PTSD]
The second part of that date! Something went wrong at the end of last chapter...
The waiter approaches them with enough embarrassment, his pad still tucked away in his pocket, that Clarice immediately knows something's wrong.
"I'm really sorry," he says, "but I have to ask you to leave. We won't be able to serve you."
"What?" John reacts. "Why?"
Clarice stays frozen, embarrassed beyond belief. She knows, just as much as John does, what this is about. It's not the first time it's happened to her, but it never gets any easier.
"I'm sorry. We just...well, several people complained, and we would rather not have any problems."
"Complained about what?" John pushes.
"I...I believe they said you were being a...disturbance."
"Because we're mutants," Clarice states in a whisper.
The waiter stares at John for a moment, as if just realizing that he could be a mutant as well.
"So you're going to kick us out, just like that?" John heats up. "Because people complained about what we are?"
"I'm just trying to resolve the situation in the best possible way," the man answers, too fast.
"With discrimination. Right, that sounds like the best way," John says sarcastically.
"Please don't make a fuss−"
"You know there are actual laws against this, right?"
"John," Clarice says, putting a hand on his arm. She shakes her head when he looks at her. She just wants to disappear in a hole in the ground now, not argue with bigots.
"We have the right to refuse service to anyone−"
"That's not how it works!"
"John!" Clarice calls again. "We'll just go. It's not like we'll enjoy our meal now."
The waiter just nods and stands back, clearly relieved. Clarice realizes that she's so tense that her hand around her glass is probably close to breaking it. She lets go slowly, only to make a fist and dig her nails into her palm instead.
"I'll go talk to them," John says angrily, waving toward the couple still giving them dark looks.
"No, please don't. Let's just leave."
John opens his mouth to argue, but he must pick up on something in her face, because he relents. "Alright, let's go," he says, standing up.
Clarice's hands are shaking when she grabs her coat. John slowly and deliberately puts a few bills on the table for the appetizer, making sure to glare at the waiter, and, even more, at the people surrounding them while he does it, but he never even hints at a violent gesture. Clarice isn't sure if that's for her benefit, because he understands that brutality could trigger her so easily right now, or if he normally has that much control on himself, but she isn't in a state to figure it out right now.
John lets her go first through the door, keeping her head down, and follows her closely, protectively, though never touching her. Clarice makes a beeline for John's car, but she has to wait for him to get in, as he struggles to both walk at her pace and get his keys out of his pocket.
"Sorry," he says, finally unlocking the car.
Hopping in, Clarice shakes her head furiously. She can't seem to talk, but she doesn't want him to feel guilty about this.
It's only when she stops moving that she realizes that she's not breathing properly, that the world is swimming around her. Gasping, she folds in half, her head pulsing along with her heart.
"Clarice?" John asks in a frenzy, hurriedly getting into the driver's seat. "Okay, it's okay, we're out now. It's over."
But it's not over, is it? Maybe the people from the restaurant aren't going to come out and mob them, but they just got kicked out of a restaurant because of her. On their first−only−date, for God's sake. How is John even still here? How is he watching her with concern right now, and not disgust? There's no way he's going to want to be her friend now, let alone keep going with their relationship. Greg certainly didn't stick around.
She feels like she's betraying John. He opened up to her the other day, gave her a piece of his life that's hard for him to talk about, and this is how she repays him?
"Clarice?"
She lets out a sob.
John is leaning toward her, still not quite touching her, his arms carefully up and open where she can see them. "Can I touch you?"
Clarice shakes her head. She doesn't think she can handle it. John is so sweet, so gentle. She can't take his gentleness and then have it taken away.
"Okay. I won't touch you, okay? But you're panicking, so I want you to breathe with me. In. Out," he demonstrates.
Clarice tries. She really does, but the sight of John, even at the corner of her eyes as she's still bent over, is distracting. Is he going to take her back to her place and leave? Or will he pretend nothing's happened and just push her away slowly, until even their friendship is just a memory?
"Clarice. Please, you don't have to talk, but try to do this with me. Focus. Think of five things you can see."
In. The dashboard. John's hair. Her shaking hands. Out. John's strong arms. She doesn't want to look outside the car. John's leather bracelet.
"Okay, good, you're doing good. Now five things you can hear."
John's voice. In. Hearing is harder, there's not much in the car. Her panicked breathing. Out. In. John's calm breathing, voluntarily exaggerated to give her a baseline. In. Out.
"There you are. You're doing great, Clarice. Once more, okay? In. Out."
Finally, she manages to synchronize her breathing to his. Her head is still swimming, but she's not desperate for oxygen any longer. She leans back into her seat, exhausted.
"Do you feel better?" John asks after a while.
Clarice's breathing picks up again immediately. Is this where he's going to tell her to get out of the car and walk home? No, he's too much of a gentleman, he's going to drive her back and then tell her he doesn't want to see her again. Does that mean her job at the Underground will be in jeopardy? Marcos is a great guy, but he's John friend first. And oh God, why did she think of that before she got involved with John? What is she going to do now?
"Hey, hey! You're spinning out again, what did I say?"
Clarice snaps back to the present, but she's frozen, unable to answer.
"Clarice, breathe. Breathe with me again, okay? In. Out."
It takes even longer this time until she doesn't feel like she's suffocating anymore. John carefully doesn't ask anymore questions, leaving her to calm down on her own. It doesn't prevent her from harping on the same thoughts over and over again, but they get less pressing, less pervasive after a while.
She realizes they're still parked in front of the restaurant.
"Can we get out of here?" she asks in a small voice.
"Of course," John says. He doesn't ask where he should go, just starts the car.
Clarice stares right ahead the whole drive, but she doesn't pay any attention to where they're going, so she's surprised when John pulls up in front of the mutant center.
"Why here?" she asks.
John stops the car and turns toward her fully. "I don't think you should be alone right now, but it seems a bit early to invite myself to your place, and Marcos and Lorna are back at the apartment. This is the only place I could think of. It's closed, it should be empty by now."
He bites his lip when Clarice struggles to answer. "But if you want me to take you home and leave you alone, I will," he adds.
Clarice hesitates. She still doesn't know if he really wants to be with her or if he's just trying to do the right thing. She's not looking forward to a night−and a weekend−of dwelling on her anxiety and this disaster of a date, but she doesn't want to get her hopes up only to be disappointed either.
But John looks so concerned, so eager to help, that she relents. "Here is good," she says.
John smiles at her sweetly. "Come on, then."
John leads them inside, and all the way to a room beside his office marked 'Staff Room'. It has a table and a couch area inside, as well as a kitchenette. "This is where we go between classes," John tells her. "We'll be better here than in my office."
Clarice drops on a couch, feeling the fatigue that always comes after a panic attack dawn onto her. She's still not sure what she's doing here, but John just sits down in an armchair, with more decorum but also obvious relief.
"Do you want to order some food in? We didn't get to eat, after all."
Clarice feels a blush creep up on her cheeks at the way he so casually talks about them getting kicked out of the restaurant.
"I'm not hungry," she says.
"Neither am I, really," John admits. "But we probably shouldn't just skip a meal, right?"
"Right."
"What would you like? Pizza? I know a good place."
"Okay," Clarice nods sheepishly. She's not sure she'll be able to eat at all when it gets there, but it seems important to John. Mundane concerns such as food seem very far from her right now. As John places the order, she watches him and wonders again why he's doing this for her. He could be back home by now with his friends, chilling in front of a movie or something. But no. He's here with her. Ordering a pizza because she told him it's one of her guilty pleasures.
"You don't have to stay with me, you know," she says, not looking at him.
"I know," John answers. "But I'm the one who chose an anti-mutant restaurant and got us into this mess."
"What? No, that's not your fault!" Clarice exclaims, almost falling down the edge of the couch in surprise. "I'm the one who got us kicked out!"
"Clarice," John bites his lip. "You didn't get us kicked out. Those bigots did. It's not you."
Clarice shakes her head. If John had been with with someone else, like Sonya, no one would have bothered him. She's the one who always brings trouble with her everywhere she goes.
"Look at it like this," John says. "Maybe I can pass for human, most of the time, but once they know, they hate me just as much. Nothing is going to change that."
"You don't get kicked out," Clarice mutters.
"And what if they'd kicked us out because I'm Apache?" John asks.
"But they didn't!"
"It's happened before," he shrugs. "All I'm saying is: you can't feel guilty for that. If you do, then they've won."
"Of course they've won. They get to enjoy their dinner knowing that we won't."
"And you're gonna give them even more pleasure by feeling bad?"
Clarice shrugs and folds herself into the couch, almost sulking. She knows he's right. Giving bigots power over her is the worst thing she can do.
"Look, we won't get the nice date night that we planned, and I'm sorry about that," John says. "But...do you want to try to enjoy this...pizza and chilling in the staff room...thing and stuff it in their faces?"
Clarice stares at John for a moment, thrown off balance. She blinks, then lets out an involuntary snort, covering her hand with her mouth.
"Are you serious?" she asks.
"Absolutely."
Clarice feels a smile spread on her face against her will. Frowning, she schools her features again. "We could...try, I suppose," she says.
"Then I'll go get that pizza and we can go on with our evening," John says, standing up. Just as he makes for the door, someone rings the doorbell. She widens her eyes, bewildered, then realizes John probably heard the delivery person arrive thanks to his mutation.
In the time it takes John to open the door and pay for the pizza, Clarice tries hard to relax on the couch. She's still shaken and tense, her breaths are too shallow and her eyes feel gritty from tearing up. She quickly checks with her phone's screen that her makeup hasn't run, and winces at how drawn she looks.
John hesitates for a moment when he comes back, putting the flat box on the low table.
"May I−" he gestures to the empty space beside her.
Clarice looks up at him and nods, trying to hide her surprise. She's never known a man so careful to ask for her permission before, especially for something as mundane as sitting beside her.
John sits down a little stiffly on the couch, not touching her, his hand going to massage his thigh discreetly. He bends down to open the pizza box.
"Is it okay like this?" he asks. "I can try to find some plates if you want."
"It's fine," Clarice answers, almost too fast. She can see his reluctance to get up again, even though he tries to hide it. She still feels guilty for almost making him run to the car earlier.
"Okay," John shrugs. "Should we eat, then?"
"Are you not going to bring up my...freaking crying fit at all?" Clarice breaks down. She's been waiting for him to say something for too long. She made a fool of herself in front of him, is he just going to pretend it never happened?
"I know what a panic attack looks like," John says. "And no, I wasn't going to. We can talk about it, but only if you want to."
Clarice sighs in frustration and hides her face in her hands. "I just feel so...ridiculous. For over-reacting like that. You shouldn't have had to see that."
"Hey, Clarice," John says, gently pulling at her arms to get her to look at him. "You didn't over-react. What happened tonight was...wrong. And scary. Don't beat yourself up for reacting like that."
"You handled it just fine," Clarice mutters.
John actually laughs. "My shrink would say that's because she's done a good job," he says.
"Your shrink?"
"I didn't come back from overseas with just useless legs and scars on my back."
Clarice bites her lip and looks at him, but he doesn't fully meet her eyes.
"PTSD?" she asks.
John nods. "Different triggers. Different reactions. But it's the same, really."
"You told me, the other day," Clarice realizes. "I didn't−"
That day when she came into the café so rattled, she was too focused on herself and her misery to register what John shared. It was before the party, before their kiss. A lifetime ago, it feels like.
"I know," John says. "It doesn't matter."
Deliberately slow, he bridges the gap between them. Clarice hadn't realized how close they'd come to sit, but her hand instinctively goes to his neck when their mouths meet.
John vaguely tastes like the appetizer cocktail he sipped at the restaurant, but more than that, Clarice notices what she missed the first time. The way his mouth and tongue feel harder than skin, like stone, like his hands. Not enough to hurt, to be uncomfortable, but different. Unique.
When they pull apart, Clarice bites her swollen lip playfully.
"So how about we eat that pizza before it's completely cold?" she smirks.
John groans wordlessly and pulls her closer again. Clarice doesn't protest.
Poor John and Clarice didn't get to enjoy their nice date at the restaurant, but they got this instead. Did you enjoy this chapter?
Please feel free to leave a review if you did!