Date Me, Mr. Archer

fifteen | friends don't cuddle

TW : panic attacks, therapy, trauma.

Was it worth it?

"Come on." I scrambled off his lap and tugged his arm. "Let's get you to bed, you big baby," I teased, hoping it'd take him off the edge.

Panic attacks were undoubtedly the worst things to ever happen. When I'd been to therapy, my therapist would always tell me to take responsibility of my panic attacks; to never take them lightly and to always- always- help.

I was lucky that I didn't really have to deal with a lot of panic attacks since I was always wallowing in my anxiety and the fear of rejection; a weird interiority complex after being used by Bernard.

But I'd seen the way Kyst had trembled the first day we met, the way he had so much difficulty breathing and how he had looked so helpless, his entire face had been void of any colour. I didn't want him to battle something so difficult alone.

I pulled him onto his feet and he groaned, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Okay, you're heavy." I pursed my lips at his glare and slowly pushed him into the bed and under the covers.

When I turned around to run to the kitchen to grab some water, his arm wrapped around my wrist and he turned me to meet his gaze. "I thought we were sleeping together," he said softly, as if he was afraid I was going to leave him alone. I wouldn't.

"You shouldn't move too much," I chastised just as he sat straighter on the bed, his back against the headboard slat.

He narrowed his eyes. "I just had a panic attack, Vi Darling, I'm not disabled."

I sighed. "I'm going to go get you some water, alright?"

He shook his head, his brown, fluffy hair moving with him. "I don't want water," he mumbled.

Bringing my hands to my waist in a typical-Jenny-way, I raised a brow. "Then what do you want?"

He didn't reply for the next ten seconds. My heart thudded as I stared into his eyes, waiting, anticipating his answer. My face heated for no apparant reason except that Kyst Archer was looking at me so intensely, so. . . . profoundly, as if I was someone so great, someone that mattered, it knocked the breath out of me. And then he opened his mouth, said five words and I knew I was in trouble. "You. I want only you."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "I-," I frantically shook my head. I didn't know what to say. I was troubled, I was scared, I was befuddled, I was surprised and. . . . I was really, really starting to feel for him.

"Don't think," he stated. "Give yourself away for just a few hours. Tomorrow, we'll be back to real life; fake-dating, boss and secretary, whatever you say. But tonight, for my sake, do not leave me alone through this, please," he pleaded. I saw the way his eyes watered and he looked away, away from me, to stop the tears.