𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 [✓]

16. Panic

warnings: anxiety, panic attack, meet & greet is after the concert

My hands started shaking the moment I progressed far enough up the line to see the boys. I had gotten here late which had only increased my mounting anxiety. I stood near the very end of the line which only gave me more time to stress about what I could and would fuck up.

After what seemed like hours I was next in line. I wrung my hands, trying the belly breaths my therapist had tried to teach me. My breath hitched and I just tried to work on simply not bursting into tears. I cursed under my breath, taking one more deep inhale before it was my turn and I pasted a small, nervous smile on my face, all I could muster at the moment.

All I could think as Jack hugged me tight was what if they could smell the sweat on me, what if they noticed how my jeans were scrunched in the back where I'd cinched my belt too tight, what if they were judging my pimples or what if my hair looked absolutely stupid or-

I moved onto Zach, letting him squish me in a tight bear hug as I tried keeping my arms by my sides in case they could really smell my stress sweat. But what if he was thinking I was a slob or what if I tripped or what if he noticed my ugly smile-

I shot Zach a trembling smile before turning to hug Jonah, hoping he couldn't feel my pounding heart. He smelled really, really good. The knots in my belly tightened more as I worried about my own smell.

My chest tightened so much that I couldn't breathe as I stopped between Jonah and Corbyn for my photo. I forced a happy smile onto my face as I hid my face slightly into the blond's shirt.

God, I looked stupid. I could just see the picture now. Why did I ever think this would be a good idea? I knew I looked ugly and nervous and stupid and why the hell did I do this? It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't been breathing properly this whole time, my breaths coming quick and short, ratcheting up the pressure in my chest. I felt like an over-inflated balloon, ready to pop at any time.

I was sure Corbyn could see the tears suddenly gathering my wide, worried eyes as he opened his arms for a hug. I quickly ducked my head, an uneven breath hitching my lungs as I realized I was at my breaking point. I tried to rush through my hug with Corbyn so I could escape and avoid having a panic attack right in front of them but he just held me tighter and rubbed my back softly. "Are you okay?"

I was sure he could feel my rapid-fire heartbeat, the tightening in my chest and I tensed, nodding slightly against his chest. I had to get out of there. I had to go. I had to leave before I broke down and caused a scene. Too late apparently because my body completely stopped responding to my instructions to leave, to run, to get the fuck out. He just held me tighter I lost control, my hands finding the back of my neck, nails digging into the skin and pulling, the pain giving me something to focus on besides my own churning mind.

I could barely see past the tears, my eyes wide open as I stared blankly into the folds of Corbyn's shirt. My breathing was getting out of control, shaking my whole body. I could vaguely feel Corbyn rubbing my back as he held me, murmuring reassuring things into my hair as he kissed the top of my head.

My breathing was out of control and it took all my effort to keep leaning on Corbyn, to not collapse to the floor and crumble into myself. My head was fuzzy and I felt faint, Corbyn's arms tightening as I swayed dangerously.

She's faking it. She's doing it for attention. Lucky her, getting extra time with Corbyn. Attention whore. I could almost hear the girls in line behind me, knowing what they'd say.

I felt tears gather in my eyes, spilling over my lashes. I couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't unlatch my hands from around my neck, nails still sunk into my skin. I just stared, hardly blinking, at the meet and greet backdrop behind Corbyn.