23. crumple

warning: panic attack.

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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CRUMPLE

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The longer that Dmitri stayed in bed, the harder it was getting for him to breathe.

Juno could clearly hear his heavy inhales, her normally soft purrs sounding like nails being dragged across a chalkboard as he repeated like a mantra, Breathe. Breathe, fucking breathe, in his head, as if that would somehow, trick his lungs into co-operating with him.

"God," he muttered under his breath, hunching over as he rubbed his chest, nearly throwing up from that simply action as nausea began to spread from his stomach to his chest.

Everything was so loud. So, so loud. Juno, his fan, Eden's bustling downstairs, Trinh talking to her, his breaths, his thoughts, his heart, everything.

The logical side of him knew that he could just call Eden and she would be able to calm him down, or at least calm him down enough so that he could throw on some fresh clothes that weren't stained with sweat and just get to the fucking cemetery.

But the illogical side of him was replaying all the horrifying thoughts that were darting around in his brain, ranging from I'm going to die, to I want to die.

"Fuck," he sobbed dryly, stumbling out of bed and crashing onto the ground instead, bringing his knees up to his chest as he tried to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, exhale, exhale.

A soft whimper escaped his mouth, shaky hands reaching up to cover his mouth with his hand as he tried to inhale, choking out semi-decent breaths that barely lasted for ten seconds, until he was hyperventilating again, his entire body just shaking, from adrenaline or from pure fear, he wasn't sure.

Gagging into his hand, he grabbed the trash can from the corner of the room, repeatedly heaving into it, a string of saliva dangling from his mouth as he tried to throw up and hopefully get whatever was hurting him out of his body.

But it wasn't that easy, it never was.

So, he was just left sitting there with the nausea, with the fear, with the panic. With only the rapid pounding of his heart to keep him company.

"Fuck," he hissed again as he drew in another heavy breath, which just turned into another dry sob as he exhaled. "Fuck. Oh my fuck, please—" Choking on his own words, Dmitri just reached for the trash can again, his body convulsing as he dry-heaved into it, his coughs probably echoing through the house, because they were definitely echoing through the room.

It was evident that Juno could hear him, but she didn't know where he was, just walking around the room, searching every corner for him except the corner where he was seated. Please, please, Eden, come upstairs.

Lungs begging for air, he inhaled deeply, oxygen getting caught halfway into his windpipe, and he just ended up choking on it, coughing harshly into the trash can, praying for some sort of miracle that would end in him either being able to breathe or dying.

Luckily for Dmitri, he was on God's favourites list, and just as his eyes were beginning to close, flutter shut from the lack of air reaching his chest to clear up the fog inside it, his phone began to ring.

Fuck. I can't get up. I can't stand up. I can't move.

After two seconds of convincing himself that he wasn't going to pass out the moment he stood up, he pushed himself off the ground, floor tilting under his feet as he stumbled to his bed, pressing his phone against his ear without bothering to check the caller ID.

He was almost certain that the person on the other end of the line could hear the heavy breathing, the small whimpers that kept leaving his mouth out of pure pain, and even the pounding of his heart. But he didn't particularly care.

"Dmitri," the person said, and at once, he knew who it was.

He also knew that he was about to throw up.

Talking to his mom always left him nauseated.

Trash can. Get the trash can.

Staggering from his bed to the trash can on the ground had never been more difficult, his entire body just shaking, shaking, shaking to the point where he wasn't sure if it was even him who was moving or if it was someone else, and he was just a bystander.

Phone still in one hand, he gripped the sides of the trash can, hunching over it and waiting, just waiting for his body to react and make him vomit.

The voice on the other end of the line was still parroting, "Dmitri, why didn't you message me back? You're so irresponsible, and—"

Shouldn't have unblocked her.

Dmitri cut the call.

He cut the call, he threw up into the trash can, a sum total of three times, he prayed to God for Eden to just come upstairs even though he had specifically told her that he just wanted to be left alone the previous night.

Then, the landline rang.

Oh my god. Please.

The landline rang for five whole rings, until someone picked up, and before Dmitri knew it, that same someone was entering his room.

"Dmitri?" Trinh asked softly, Dmitri's eyes unfocused as he tried to look at the bracelet, making out a dark green. Then, Trinh's eyes actually landed on him sitting on the ground, and he gasped, shoving the door open and crouching down. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Please. Please help me. "Trinh," he choked out, just coughing some more and groaning, because panic attacks weren't supposed to last this fucking long. This was way too long. "Trinh, help, help me, please," he stuttered out— Breathe, just fucking breathe— as he choked on his own staccato breaths.

"Hey, hey, what can I do?" he questioned, bending down to be at Dmitri's eye level, but as soon as Dmitri made eye contact with him, a wave of shock erupted within his lungs.

"I can't— I c-can't, Trinh, I n-need Eden, I need her, I need—"

"Okay, okay, uh—" Trinh paused for a moment, eyes unfocused, like he was thinking. Then, he said, "Tariq is on the phone. He said that he tried to call but your phone was busy. Do you want to talk to him? If not, I can get Eden, but—"

"Y-Yes, yes, please," Dmitri managed to get out, and with trembling hands, he accepted the phone, pressing it to his ear and whispering out a weak, "Tariq. Tariq, please, my chest— my chest, it's s-so— fuck, Tariq, please—"

He didn't know for how long he had been begging Tariq to help him, but somehow, Tariq was murmuring out reassurances that Dmitri couldn't even comprehend.

"Hey," he whispered, his words so unbelievably loud. "Dmitri. You're okay. Okay? Are you with me? You're—"

"Tariq, help," he mumbled, chest feeling so impossibly tight that he could barely think. "Please, Tariq, it's so hot, I'm—"

Before he could go any further, Tariq was speaking again, voice so soft that Dmitri could barely hear him over his own breaths that were getting quicker and quicker for some fucking reason.

"Okay," Tariq murmured. "Listen to me, okay? Can you do that for me?"

When Dmitri didn't give him a response, couldn't give him a response, Tariq continued, "Okay. Listen to my breaths, try to inhale with me. Do you want me to come over?"

"I don't— I don't want you to see me," Dmitri muttered, the room spinning each time his eyes fluttered open. Was Trinh still in the room? He didn't know. He didn't know anything.

Tariq just let out that breathy laugh of his, the one that never failed to comfort Dmitri, but seemed to be failing now. "I've seen you at worse, Dmitri. If that's what you're worried about."

That much was true. Tariq had seen him sob for hours on end, he had seen him pass out from panic attacks, seen him naked in a non-sexual way, in a more I need to get to school, but I'm too fucked to even take off my clothes kind of way. He had seen it all.

"It's fine," Dmitri finally said, coughing slightly to free up some of the tension in his chest. "Just— t-talk to me, or something. Please. Just until I can calm down enough to— to get to the cemetery."

Humming into the phone, Tariq let out a soft sigh, before saying, "Okay. Your breathing is okay?"

Please just talk to me. "It will be once you—" Dmitri began, but he was cut off by such a sharp stabbing in his chest that all he could do was groan and keel over, clutching his chest. "God, Tariq, please—"

"Okay, okay," Tariq relented, voice softer than soft, while Dmitri's breaths only got more harsh, more violent. Not a heart attack. Panic attack. Not a heart attack. "So, you know how I'm gay as fuck, right?"

Breathing out a laugh, one that was painful to even choke out, Dmitri hummed, squeezing his eyes shut as Tariq continued to speak.

"I was thinking about like— making the tattoo parlour more... queer friendly," Tariq went on, pausing for a second, only to continue back on when Dmitri gave him a soft hum to show that he was listening. "Because right now, it looks really fucking scary, right? Like— the fucking paintings of stags and everything? That's fucking terrifying. That paired with the way I look just scares the fuck out of people."

"I think it looks cool," Dmitri whispered, the scent of his fucking vomit in the trash can becoming more real to him now that he could actually breathe. And all it was doing was intensifying his nausea. "Nothing you do can be scary."

Tariq just let out a soft laugh at that, followed by an even softer, "Yeah? The eighteen year old who came by the other day to get their first tattoo done didn't seem to think the same."

Holy fuck, Dmitri was going to throw up if he stayed in the room with the same trash can that he had puked into.

"I need to get up," he muttered softly, his breaths still shaky, but better. Tariq was good at that— making it better. "I threw up, I need to throw the trash bag out. I need to get up." My body's so tired, and the day hasn't even started.

A small sigh and a big pause later, Tariq said, "Are you sure you don't want me to come over? I can help."

"Nah," Dmitri mumbled, his breathing eventually, finally even. As even as it could get. "You get that bank. Ink people's skin, pierce it, whatever. I'll be good."

At least, he hoped he would.

Tariq's uncertainty was evident when he didn't say anything for a good ten seconds, eleven now, until he finally relented with a gentle, "Okay. Okay, fine. That's fine."

Still, he didn't sound convinced. "I promise, I'll be—"

"Dmitri," Tariq said, and then, again, "Dmitri. Just— uh, call or something. If you need anything. Or even if you don't need anything, you can just call. I'll answer."

Of course Tariq would answer. The motherfucker was glued to his phone twenty four fucking seven.

"Thank you," Dmitri mumbled, inhaling, finally inhaling without the air getting stuck somewhere in between his trachea and lungs. "I'm not coming to work today, I'll be at the cemetery for most of the day, and I'll probably go to church. Light a candle, pray for a bit."

Again, Tariq didn't sound convinced when he said, "Are you a hundred percent sure? I promise, you won't be a bother. Or a pain, or anything that you're thinking."

Damnit. He knew him too well, sometimes.

"I'll be okay" Dmitri confirmed. Maybe if he repeated it enough times, it would come true. "I don't know what triggered a panic attack, I was just... panicking. Overthinking everything, just ended up freaking the fuck out," he admitted, still on the floor. At least Juno had found her way towards him now, and she was curled up in his lap. I need to brush my teeth again. Fuck, I can taste the vomit.

Tariq sighed into the phone, a soft but tired sigh— Did I tire him out?— as he hummed. "Okay. I'll believe that. Just call me if you need m— need to. Or if you just want to call, that's cool. I'll talk to you later. Call me, okay?"

It was so fucking terrible that the first thing that Dmitri did that day was have a panic attack over absolutely nothing, throw up and nearly pass out. It wasn't even an hour since he had woken up.

"Yeah," he muttered, and that was all he said, Tariq ending the call on him. "Okay, okay. Stand up," he told himself, but he physically couldn't push himself off the ground, not just yet. Ten minutes. I'll stand up in ten minutes.

So, he just dealt with the pungence of his own vomit and sweat, and brought Juno closer to his body as he closed his eyes, letting the day wash over him.

God, please, give me the strength to get through the day. The next few days. Please.

There was no telling if God heard him or not, but he had to cling onto hope. Hope and faith. The only things that he had going for him.

Hope and faith.

—

Talking to his grandfather was hard to do when there were over twenty people at the cemetery.

All Dmitri wanted to do was sit down, just talk to the fucking air and hope that someone was listening, but that plan was ruined once four other people sat down at the grave next to his grandfather's, all in tears.

So, mumbling out a quick prayer and a quicker, "I love you so much, and I miss you every day", Dmitri had left the cemetery, driving all the way to the church.

It was always prettier on days that weren't Sundays, coincidentally the days that the racists and homophobes weren't around.

Dmitri always went to church with his grandfather. When his parents told him that he was 'cursed', and that he wasn't allowed to step foot into church, his grandfather was the one to accompany him later in the day.

It was inevitable— death. Old people died, he knew that. Old people got sick, old people died, and his grandfather had lived a good life.

But it just hurt so much.

It had gotten easier, though. The ache, the loss, the grief. He didn't think about it as much, not unless he needed to. And if he did ever think about it, he didn't instantly burst into sobs. That was an improvement to him.

Still, time didn't heal shit. It never did. It didn't get harder, but nothing was healed. Nothing.

Pushing himself off the pews, Dmitri made his way to the candles, melted wax and half-burnt flames stinging his eyes, or maybe those were tears, he wasn't sure.

Then, he lit a single candle. A plain beige one, nothing special. But to him, it was everything. It was a prayer, it was a memory, that single candle was everything.

"I miss you," Dmitri whispered into the air, voice almost echoing in the quiet of the church. "I'm sorry that I did what I did, I know that you wanted me to be strong or whatever. I tried, I'm sorry. It was just— it was really hard to continue when I had no one, not even myself. I love you."

He closed his eyes, and he breathed. Just for a moment, just to savour the feeling of being able to breathe without choking on stifling gasps or tight chests.

A gust of wind blew through the stone walls, uncharacteristic for April in San Diego. Typically, the wind would have been welcome, the weather always slightly warmer during April, but today, Dmitri didn't want the wind. He didn't want the candles to blow out.

Of course, as quick as the wind came, the candles went out.

All the candles except his own.

There was no spiritual explanation to it, Dmitri knew that the only reason his candle hadn't gone out was because he was covering it with his body.

But still, the look of the burnt out candles sent a giant spike through his chest. Because people had burnt those candles and left, in the hopes that it would stay burning.

So, Dmitri did the only thing that he could do. He took his own candle, and went around, lighting each one of the candles until the whole candle stand was bright orange, flames burning in the dark evening.

Taking a step back, he observed the candles, a small smile, a satisfied smile breaking out onto his lips.

Yeah. That's better.

—

When Dmitri got back home, he was fucking exhausted.

Not from doing anything in particular, just from existing in general. From church, from thinking about his dead grandfather and his own fucking brain, from his panic attack earlier in the day, from throwing up, from not eating all day.

All he wanted to do was to put on some random fucking show on his laptop and go the fuck to sleep. He didn't even care that it was barely half past eight.

Sighing, Dmitri rolled his neck as he unlocked the door, his eyes instantly falling on the post-it that Eden had left on the wall next to the front door.

I'm @ my sister's place!! Just left (8:00), don't wait up for me, her kid is sick so she needed me to come by ): Call if you need anything!! I'll be home by 1 ish. -Eden :P

The house was always so quiet when Eden wasn't around.

Right as he was taking his dinner out of the fridge, leftovers from lunch, he heard something.

Juno.

Legs moving faster than his mind could comprehend, Dmitri dropped his dinner back onto the counter and ran into his room, only to find Juno curled up in a corner on the floor, her leg twisted in a position that definitely didn't look right.

And she was crying.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered, tapping the floor once, the lump in his throat only growing when she inched away from the sound. "It's okay, it's— fuck," he hissed, pulling his hand away when she scratched at it, dots of blood lining the two parallel scratch marks on his hand. It's fine, it's fine.

He knew that he had to take her to the vet. But there was no fucking way he could drive, not when he was on the verge of tears.

Not just because of Juno injuring herself, but because he had held it in when he went to the cemetery, when he went to church, and his plan was to let it out as soon as he got home.

"It's fine," he mumbled to himself, willing the tears to go back. Dramatic. There's no fucking need for this. "Call Tariq, call Tariq."

He did just that, shakily dialing in Tariq's number and pressing his phone against his ear, ignoring the stinging in his hand because Juno's pain was definitely way worse, and it had been so long since Juno injured herself, and this was the worst day for it to happen.

Tariq picked up on the break between the first and the second ring. That in itself, was enough to let Dmitri know that Tariq had been waiting for a call, because he never picked up on time.

"Hey, Dmitri," he greeted, a little cautious but this time, Dmitri couldn't even blame him, considering their last call involved him nearly passing out from panic. "Is everything—"

"Can you come over?" Dmitri blurted, cursing himself for the voice crack, for that small crack of emotion. He was done being emotional, for today, at least. "I n-need— sorry, I need you to drive me to the vet, Juno's injured. Ri— Tariq, sorry, I think her leg's broken. I don't know what to do, I can't— I can't drive right now, I don't feel right, and—"

"Dmitri," Tariq interrupted, softer than ever. "I was coming over anyway, I'm literally ten minutes away. Do you want to stay on the line?" he asked, and typically, Dmitri would have been at least slightly annoyed at the fact that Tariq felt like he had to check on him.

But right now, he was nothing short of grateful, because one: Tariq hated driving, and two: Tariq knew him well enough to know that he hated being alone more than anything else.

"It's— It's fine." Pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, he just harshly squeezed his eyes shut, bowling ball in his throat only growing in size. "It's fine. Just... Please come soon."

Tariq hummed into the phone, murmuring a quick, "I'll see you soon. It'll be okay," and cutting the call on Dmitri, leaving him alone with Juno, his bleeding hand and his bleeding thoughts.

"It'll be fine," he whispered to Juno, standing up and grabbing a blanket to wrap her in, blocking out her hisses every time he came even moderately close to her.

With every minute that passed, the ache in Dmitri's chest only grew, heart clawing at his throat, begging to just come up, because maybe then, he would stop feeling as much as he did.

When the ache in his chest had grown larger than the ache in his head and his hand, the sound of the doorbell was heard, a sound that he typically found annoying was now music to his ears.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Dmitri shot Tariq a quick text that was filled with typos, just to let him know that the door was unlocked. Can't leave Juno. I can't leave her here.

Momentarily forgetting that Juno, all cats, but Juno especially, didn't like being touched when they were injured, Dmitri reached forward to pet her, she always liked physical touch when it was from him.

He didn't expect Juno to let out a howl of pain.

He also didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open, clearly startling Juno and only causing her to cry even more.

"Hey, sorry, there was traffic and—" Tariq began, stopping when his eyes fell on Dmitri. "Your hand is bleeding," he said, and then, "You're crying."

I didn't realise.

"I know," Dmitri muttered in response to Tariq pointing out his bleeding hand, swaddling Juno in the blanket and standing up, carrying her with him. Ignore the pain. Ignore Juno's crying. Fuck, this is hard.

Tariq just shook his head, taking Juno out of Dmitri's hands and holding them in his own. She's blind, she doesn't react well to being carried around, Dmitri wanted to say, but he couldn't say it, his throat closing up in his throat.

"Wash your hand out," Tariq instructed, softly but firmly. "Soap, water and gauze. Then, we'll go. I don't want it to get infected, okay?"

Dmitri nodded, he didn't know what the fuck else to do, disappearing into the bathroom, and doing exactly what Tariq had said, trying, trying so hard to not break down.

"Okay," Tariq murmured once he was out of the bathroom, gauze firmly taped onto the wound. "Let's go."

So, they went. The drive was a complete blur— Juno in Dmitri's lap, her cries more muffled now, less loud. Dmitri clearing his throat every ten seconds to prevent himself from crying, no matter how much he wanted to. Tariq driving, slowly because he had a fear of driving at night, but fast enough for them to reach the veterinarian in time.

As soon as they were out of the car, Tariq shot a quick look in Dmitri's direction, before saying, "Do you want me to take her in? It's probably just a minor break, maybe even a sprain if we're lucky. We'll be done soon."

"Tariq," was all Dmitri said, that was the only word he could get out at that moment. "Can you take her in? Please? I can't breathe."

This wasn't a panic attack kind of I can't take in a single breath. This was more of an I'm overwhelmed to the point where my lungs refuse to take in a breath until everything else is sorted.

Another alarmed look later, Tariq nodded, taking Juno out of Dmitri's hands. "You'll be okay here?"

"I'm fine."

There wasn't a single person whom Dmitri could convince with that lie.

Nevertheless, Tariq relented, disappearing into the clinic.

And almost instantly, Dmitri's knees buckled, his hand reaching out for the car to steady himself, just enough so that he could lower himself to the ground instead of crash onto it.

Then, he let the tears fall.

Lungs crumpling into a paper ball, he just sobbed into his hands, sobbed for so long and so hard to the point where he could barely see the people walking past him, could barely hear the single person who had offered him some water and had said, I'm sorry for your loss, because they had probably assumed that his fucking pet had died.

And before he knew it, Tariq was approaching again, Juno in his hands, her leg bandaged up into a splint.

"Hey, hey, Dmitri," Tariq murmured, crouching down to his level. "It's okay. She's fine, the doctor said that it was a minor break, probably from getting her leg stuck under something. She's a small cat, her bones will heal faster. It's okay, I promise."

Dmitri just shook his head, unable to repress the sobs that were making his head ache, his entire body ache. "I— Tariq, please, today's been— it's been so fucking bad, my grandfather died on this day, and Juno got hurt today, and... Today was such a bad day, and it's n-not even going to be the worst day, and—"

"I know," Tariq agreed, slowly lowering himself to the ground and sitting down beside him, and handing Juno over to him, still wrapped in her little blanket. "I know. It'll pass. I promise you, it'll pass," he assured quietly, placing a hand on Dmitri's knee and rubbing it softly.

"I'm not happy. Not at all," he whispered into the air. "And I don't think I ever will be."

"It's okay. I promise, it's okay."

And while he didn't stop crying for another hour, Tariq never left his side.

Not when he got home, not when he set Juno down on the ground and crashed into bed, still in his clothes from the morning, not when he spent an hour in bed, just repeatedly praying to whoever was listening, praying that things would be okay.

Not even then.

—

+4475

AN: chapter 12, chapter 27, chapter 40 and this chapter (23) are the ones that made me cry while writing this book so

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thank u all for reading💓 i hope everyone has/had a good day today🥰 i love u all❤️