Chapter 10
Panic at the disco.
I squatted in front of Seth, rubbing his back. I had no idea what was wrong. We’d been getting along, but when I moved closer, he started breathing oddly and turned very pale. Maybe my wings had upset him, though he’d readily touched them.
Seth had asked me not to move, and I wouldn’t.
After a bit, Seth sat up, expression drawn and eyes heavy like he was exhausted. Carefully, I moved to touch him, but he jerked back.
Permissions.
We hadn’t had the conversation, but I’d been testing the limits, which wasn’t right. I wanted to touch him, to be with him, and so the conversation needed to be had, but it never seemed to be the right time.
I swiped his cheek with my tail, and Seth smiled. That was acceptable. My tail didn’t upset him, which was nice, but I wanted to fold him into my arms. I wanted to trail my lips over his soft skin and kiss away the strain.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie. I did something.”
He released a long breath. “I have (untranslated word). Social. General. Everything is new, and I’m on edge. Normally, it’s not this bad.”
I didn’t know what that word meant, though NAID had supplied nerves, worry, and fear, but I didn’t want to interrupt him when he was opening up.
“My brain is in panic mode. Everything is important and possibly threatening. I can’t calm down. Logic doesn’t matter. It’s all too much. I felt… trapped.”
This I understood. It seemed similar to one of the brain chemistry disorders that affected drakcol. “What can I do to help?”
“Take me home.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Figures.”
Another word I didn't quite understand. I understood it, but not the context. I had no idea what his fine figure had to do with this conversation. Pushing past it, I asked, “Anything else?”
“Let me be when I have a panic attack. Maybe sit next to me?”
“I can do that. Do you need anything else from me?”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t yell at me when I have one. It doesn’t help.”
I nudged his chin up with my tail. “I would never do that.”
Red rushed to his cheeks again, making me lean closer. Seth’s breathing turned shallow and he scooted back.
“Can you tell me exactly what upsets you, so I can stop doing it?” I asked. His expression turned blank. “My Seth?” Did I do something wrong again?
Asking about my triggers wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it made me think of my first girlfriend.
I’d been fifteen, my anxiety at its worst. She used to set me off on purpose, and when I had a panic attack, she would mock me, saying anxiety wasn’t real. Something my grandparents had agreed with. Ever since her, I didn’t tell people my triggers because I’d lived through them being used as weapons against me.
I was already at a disadvantage with Kal, and I couldn’t give him any more power over me.
“I can’t think of anything,” I lied.
“If you do, please tell me.”
