Weight of Living

Alex doesn’t like having panic attacks. He doesn’t like the way his throat closes up and stops him from breathing. He doesn’t like the way that he’s completely disorientated when he comes out of one. It’s embarrassing, and he hates anyone viewing him when he’s having a panic attack.

Someone is rubbing his back, he notices distantly as he tries to fucking breath, opening his mouth to try. And he expects it not to work, like all the previous times, but it does, and the air rushes into his lungs. It’s like having the first breath of his life, but he can breathe. It’s amazing.

“Alex?”

Alex blinks quickly a few times and focuses on the person in front of him. It’s Jack, who has a concerned look on his face. He can feel five points of heat of the fingers through his t-shirt, and he breathes once. Twice. Three, four, five times.

“J-Jack?” He stutters, willing the panic away steadily, bit by bit, until he’s almost fine.

“Alex, are you alright to play?” Jack asks, sounding concerned.

He can hear the bustle of the crew around him, and if he listens hard, Alex can hear the yelling of the waiting crowd. He wants to get on with the show, and he smiles at Jack.

“Yeah,” Alex says slowly, almost as though he is tasting the words inside his mouth before he says them, “I’ll be fine to play. Just give me five.”

“Ok.”



Onstage, Alex is the perfect performer and interacts with the crowd as he does normally. Every so often, Jack comes over and presses the entire length of his body against Alex’s. As well as making the crowd scream like crazy, it has the bonus of calming Alex, thus helping him to get through the show.

When they finish on a high, the crowd screaming, coming together at the front of the stage, bowing, Alex feels normal, like the panic attack never happened. He still feels slightly weak, like his bones aren’t quite strong enough to keep him upright, but nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure.



They’ve showered, and they’re relaxing in the back lounge, with the TV on low. Alex is curled against Jack, his arms wrapped around the dark-haired man’s waist, linking their fingers together.

Alex likes it, casually watching TV with his boyfriend. It’s relaxing. After the panic attack, all he’d wanted to do was go to sleep, but Jack had helped him so much.

“Jack?” He says quietly, stroking his finger over Jack’s wrist carefully.

Jack hums instead of verbally responding.

“Thanks for earlier. It meant a lot to me.”