Prompt: Panic Attacks
Character(s): Klavier Gavin, Apollo Justice
Originally Written: 3.16.2009
He has to give himself some credit for this.
It took some time to finally recognize when they were going to happen, and he's developed some talent in concocting excuses to disappear from the public eye for a few minutes.
But there's the nagging feeling that he should tell someone. It would be disastrous; the shame he felt for succumbing to such a pitiful condition as this simply couldn't be amplified by drawing attention to it.
For the first time in Klavier Gavin's life, he is shamed.
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He doesn't remember when they first started, but when he thinks about some of the situations, there was no real trigger. If anything had been stressful, it had been something that he would've been able to deal with in the past. They had never been extreme, never resulted in injury like some did.
But nothing can compare to the feeling of imminent death, the tightness in his throat, the desperation as he rushes towards the bathroom in the courthouse to allow this attack to pass. The effects will stay with him until he goes home, but he can't let anyone see him like this, not now.
Klavier feels something sour—bile?—work its way up to his throat, acidic and stinging. He throws himself against the wall, gripping his head, trying to make this go away—
"Hey, pretty boy, court is reconvening now! Get your ass out here."
The air is cold and thick as he swallows, denying that the voice he heard just now was Detective Skye's. He can't leave now, he can't let people see him like this. He sinks to the floor, unable to quell the raging pain in his head; the horrifying sense of helplessness beginning to consume him. He can't do this, he's going to die alone and in shame.
The walls are taunting him, inching closer, closer, until they possess the space that Klavier so desperately needs. They take on the voices of everyone he holds dear to him, whispering things that he knows they'd never say.
"How pathetic! He can't even control himself…"
"He thinks he's so special because of these little episodes. What a brat."
"He's forcing himself to do this so he can just do it in public for attention one day. Like a little kid acting out for attention."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why couldn't these damn voices go away? He never heard them before, and he didn't intend on starting to hear them now—
"Hey, Klavier! Are you listening to me? Hurry up!"
Her voice is beginning to pull him away, and he wants her to keep talking, but save for inaudible grumbling there's nothing.
A bead of sweat courses down the side of his face and he grips the sleeves of his jacket, faintly hearing the door open before someone is at his side, repeating his name with increasing worry.
Black has never been so menacing a color.
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For once, he's silent.
Apollo is asking him what's wrong, what happened, why he was in the hospital. He can't work up the courage to tell him what had occurred (it's none of his business anyway, he tries to tell himself). God, he just wants everyone to go away and leave him be.
"Klavier, whatever happened, it's nothing to be ashamed of," the attorney points out awkwardly, shuffling his feet. He's suddenly preoccupied with his bracelet.
Why does he have the feeling that Apollo knows more than he's letting on?
He's rendered useless for the time being, but he's grateful that only the walls know his darker secrets.
