#fjdjaksjcjal

[all-hail-the-witcher]

Soft but angst Ralbert where one of them has had a day that starts taking a toll on them emotionally, and when it all climaxes they start having a panic attack over something small like forgetting socks and someone else in the friend group snaps at them because “it’s just socks” and tells them to get it together and then the other half of the ship gets super protective of the one whose panicking and snaps at the friend who snapped and then helps the boyf??? Is that too complicated???

WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THATSAPH IS BACK WITH THE REQUESTSYEEEEET_________ship: ralberrtttttt what elsegenre: flangst, s o m f o r twarnings: Very Descriptive panic attack, shitty pet names, Finch is an asshole accidentallywords: like uhh 1200editing: i thinkst the fuckst not_________

There wasn't a single thing Race hated more than his brain. Why did it choose to freak out over the smallest, most trivial things? He didn't know. Why did it seek out dark corners to dwell upon? He also didn't know. Why did it choose to freak out at the worst possible time? You guessed it, he didn't know.

He strolled into rehearsal that morning, hand in hand with his boyfriend Albert, fully aware of the rocky state of his stomach and the fuzziness clouding his mind that he couldn't seem to shake. He had had woken up in a panic, feeling dangerously lightheaded after a nightmare that had left him on edge at three am, followed soon after by breaking a glass in the kitchen while eating breakfast which subsequently caused him and Albert to miss the subway, and when they did finally get on an older man had flipped him the finger after he leaned heavily onto Albert’s shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. Luckily, Albert had been occupied with something on his phone, and hadn’t noticed the tears that threatened to spill from Race’s eyes, otherwise he would be bandaging his knuckles in a walgreens bathroom right now.

Race forced himself to take a deep breath as he placed his bag down on the bench in the locker room, blocking out the deafening chatter around him as he slowly and deliberately pressed the pad of his thumb to each of his fingers, using his other hand to root around in his dance bag for a pair of socks, making sure to focus on his breathing as he-

Where were his socks?

He swore he had packed them.

Breathing forgotten, he navigated through the contents of his dance bag at random, pulling out stray shoes, shirts and a few plastic water bottles, until all of his belongings were strewn across the bench and the surrounding floor, no socks in sight.

His vision began to blur as he shoved the haphazard items back into his bag, some landing on the floor because of his trembling hands. Blinking hard and forcing himself to swallow the rising unnecessary panic in his throat, he stumbled over to where Albert was chatting with Finch as he pulled on his warm up clothes. Upon seeing Race approaching, he smiled brightly, an action that Race fought to return. He couldn't let Albert know he was slipping right now, it had been weeks since the last time this had happened and he had been doing so well.

“Hey broski, what's up?” Albert leaned against the wall casually, his signature smirk playing across his lips.

Race smiled shakily. “Do you, uh, have a pair of….socks i could borrow?” He ducked his head slightly, fighting against the tightness consuming his chest.

“Yeah, of course,” Albert said, turning his back to Race to dig through his bag. As he did so, Race began to feel his nerves lessen. He would make it through this, he would be okay, he would be-

“Jeez dude,” Finch said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Don't lose your mind over it, it’s just a pair of damn socks.”

Race felt his breathing pick up again as he saw his hands visibly begin to shake in front of him. He knew he wasn't okay, he knew he was sinking, but it felt like he was experiencing it from an outside perspective and there was nothing he could do but stand there, rooted in place and let the all too familiar feeling of hopelessness and dread wash over him that came with an attack.

In a last attempt at sanity he felt his eyes flick up to Albert, who was just turning back around, a pair of socks in hand.

•••

“Finch, what the hell,” Albert hissed, dropping the socks he was holding and hurdling over the bench, focus trained on Race who was half slumped over, clutching his arms to his body as he shook violently.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I don't wanna hear it,” Albert snapped loudly, lowering his voice significantly as he noticed Race’s recoil at his tone of voice. “Just go, okay? You’ve done enough damage.” He didn't look up, but the quick footsteps and bang of the door shutting indicated quite clearly that Finch had left.

“Hey dude,” Albert whispered softly, standing in front of Race. “Can you hear me?”

Race’s head moved in a tiny nod and Albert sighed in relief. At least it hadn’t gotten really bad yet, he could still pull him out.

“Think you can sit down?”

When Race failed to respond, Albert tried again. “I’ll do it with you, see?” Albert sat down slowly on the floor, watching as Race slowly followed, his shaking legs threatening to buckle, but making it to the ground all the same.

“Good, that’s good,” Albert praised, keeping his hands in his lap where Race could see them. “Can you look at me, Racer?”

Slowly, Race’s tear filled blue eyes lifted to meet Albert’s. They were glazed over, and darted away every few seconds, but he was still trying and Albert was immensely proud of him for that.

“Yes, just like that,” Albert smiled gently, keeping his voice low and steady despite the nerves that were seeking into his stomach. He hated seeing Race like this. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Let’s take a nice big breath in…” He sucked the air in through his nose in an over exaggerated fashion, and Race followed with a much shakier one. “Good, now hold,” Albert directed, holding for four beats, watching Race carefully. “And blow out,” he said, expelling the air through his mouth. “Good, Racer, you’re doing great,” he assured, beginning the breathing process again.

As he guided Race through the measured breaths, he let his mind wander. How had he not noticed Race was slipping? Sure it had been a few weeks since his last panic attack, and he’d been making good progress, but he should have picked up on the signs, then maybe Race wouldn’t be struggling to breathe right now, maybe-

“Al…?”

Albert was ripped suddenly from his thoughts by a soft, unsteady voice.

“Yes?”

Race twisted his hands in his lap for a second before opening his arms sheepishly, his quiet voice barely heard above the music seeping in from the studio. “Hug?”

“Of course, I got you cupcake.” Albert gently pulled Race into his lap, beginning to rub gentle circles into the back of his hands as he hummed quietly.

“I’m safe, right?” Race muttered into Albert’s shoulder after several more long minutes of calming breaths.

“Yes, you’re safe,” Albert assured, running his fingers through Races hair. “You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Okay,” Race mumbled, yawning slightly.

“You can rest. I got you.” Albert said, shifting into a more comfortable position as Race began to nod off.

“I love you,” Race whispered tiredly as his eyes began to fall closed.

“I love you too cupcake,” Albert smiled fondly. It didn’t matter to him that Race had had an attack. All that mattered was that he was okay, and he would be there for him next time.

__________

kfjdjsja i lov writing comfort it’s such a yeethuuu thanks mikey for cupcake ;)I guess the writing is Back so if anyone’s got a request shove it in the ask box and I’ll try to get to itfeedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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