It happened randomly, but thankfully at home.

Steven went from baseline to bright pink as the dread of a panic attack set in. At first he tried to play it off like he was okay, mumbling that it would pass quickly. But then, it started getting much worse even after they paused the movie and his glow got brighter. He stood to stumble away when the world became too much and up the basement stairs as fast as he could manage.

They followed, the loyal team that they were, with Connie leading the pack carefully so to not further overwhelm him.

He didn't think. He didn't stop moving until he reached the sand and the outside air. If he was to die, it would be on his own terms. That's what felt like was happening: the stinking and violently aggressive terror of dying. And maybe he was. His knees buckled up as his body gave out. The unrelenting stress, the embarrassment and frustration just took him down for the count.

Limp, that was the word, right? Steven De Mayo-Mahaswaren could not move another inch to save his gem. He was paralyzed as Connie did her best to pull his head into her lap.

He tried positive self talk. He walked himself through the whole regiment as his friends supported him silently. 'I'm gonna be okay. It'll pass,' He told himself over and over until he was sick of hearing it. It felt like he'd never see the light of calm again. He felt trapped and terrified out of his mind and soul, he was out of his body and yet tethered to it in the worst of ways.

The burning, acidic and heavy panic was filling him from head to toe. He tingled. He ached inside. He hurt. Panic attacks were so painful, both emotionally and physically. The worst part was there was absolutely no reason for him to have been triggered enough to start one, nor to be still having it.

It clawed at him and all he wanted to do was cry. He needed to release the tension, but his body would not allow him to do anything but lay there blankly as it raped him of everything that gave him confidence until he was freezing cold and feverish at the same time.

He hated this. He hated feeling weak, but more than that he hated being weak. What if something happened? What if someone came along and hurt him, or worse, his friends?

"Whoa, Steven calm down." Connie's soothing voice tore him from the his mind and he realized he was dragging in strained, wheezing breaths. Her murmur was distorted, and yet crystal clear. Could he say her name, cry out for the comfort she had grown accustomed to giving him during these moments?

"Breathe." A new voice, familiar but not Connie urged him.

He clung to her without being able to do so, willing himself to stay here as a not normal man having a not normal panic attack. He was glowing so brightly he felt like a sun made of sheer terror. There was no reason to feel this way, and that made it worse, more embarrassing. Which made it worse again. He was looping, his barely there mind informed him. Looping and looping and looping in a fear-tension cycle that refused to let up. Just as he thought he might be able to speak, it knocked him off his feet and hammered into him more.

That's when the flashbacks started.

He was hallucinating those dreadful clicks, he trembled at their might.

He thought he smelled her perfume, the smothering warm smell of seduction and manipulation he still couldn't bear to hate past his kindness. There was nothing more he wanted to do than cry out.

Guilt.

Before it even happened, he felt it. A half whisper forced its way out. "L-leave me."

But they did not.

He corrupted before their very eyes, but there were no gasps or repulsion, only hands that found their way to his body to let him know he wasn't alone through the now very physical and very real pain.

He winced and grunted as they forced their way out and sliced at his skin. It hurt, god it hurt so bad, he just wanted to make it stop!

"He's hyperventilating again. Jacob, grab the weighted blanket."

"Got it," A voice that must have belonged to a Jacob said curtly.

"Hazel, grab some water."

"Cold?"

"Mhm, grab two. Anna, do you know where his pills are?"

"A- I- No."

Another voice, a bit rough with emotion carried over his ears. "I do. Hydroxicine, yeah?"

"Yeah. Anna, bring me a pair of scissors."

"Scissors?"

"He's overheating. I-I can feel it. He's going to start..." Her voice trailed off into a whisper he couldn't understand.

The voices were skating past his ears as two people came closer to rub his back and his arm, careful to avoid the dangerous protrusions. He felt so terrible, like such a heavy burden. Didn't they have better things to do than sit here and babysit such a pitiful being? Why was he so needy?

He huffed as he began to feel Connie was right. He was too hot, way too hot. His vision blurred and he panted for all he was worth as his human body was once again pushed to unfair limits. Finally, he could cry out his agony.

Heavy footsteps came and quickly his shirt and button up were cut open from the back and gently pushed over his front so he was exposed. They were so careful to make sure it didn't snag on his horns and cause further discomfort.

Another pair of footsteps came at the same time, wait no, two. He forced himself to count them. When he reached 11, his hand was tingling with a sharp sensation. That hurt too, but he couldn't portray it besides a tiny whimper. He was pathetic. He knew he was pathetic and the corruption continuing to burst through his form was proving it.

"Slow down," A voice said. It crossed to his front and dipped down, joined by the assailant pouring liquid Hell on his hand. It did move though, his hand twitched and he thought it was a miracle. He closed his eyes wearily, not wanting them to see the darkness that accompanied them. "You're so precious, Steven. You've gotta get up."

Get up? Impossible. He would've crowed with laughter if he wasn't so miserable.

"Adam, he can't move."

"Trust me on this, I know what I'm doing, Connie," He snapped viciously enough that she didn't say anything else as he placed a hand on Steven's cheek. "If you don't want to be stuck anymore, you have to move Steven. Sit up."

He felt his body trying, he felt the muscles needed for such a monumental action straining to obey.

"Steven, get up. I know you can. Get up." His voice was firm, dead serious, and sharp. "Get up, Steven."

He had to get up. He couldn't die here. He strained harder.

"There we go, come on. I'm not going away. You're going to be okay, I swear to god you'll feel better once you get up."

"Can't you give him his pills without making him move? He's so miserable."

"Shhh. Steven, get up!"

The force behind it gave him enough strength to slowly, shakily, push himself up into sitting.

"Fuck yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Adam pumped a fist and grinned at him.  "Look at you! Can you tip your head back?"

He couldn't find enough energy to nod, he just did as asked.

Shit. No, he was going to fall, he couldn't hold his own weight and he was heavier than normal.

A force. No, people. Hands, backs, shoulders were pushing into him with everything they had to keep him steady as Connie gave him the pills and Hazel poured the water. Now he just had to swallow.

"Steven, swallow."

His throat moved accordingly, even as he coughed and sniffled. Yes! He sniffled again, trying to latch onto it. Not only would it break him out into a lesser, more manageable panic attack, it was one of the main keys to heal his corruption.

But he still needed the other Diamonds' essence.

He grew heavier as he strained for tears that wouldn't fucking work if he didn't have the stupid fucking vials needed.

"Sh-shit!" Connies grip slipped a little as she realized. "We need the other Diamonds' essence! It's–,"

"I grabbed them, they looked important," Adam replied calmly. "What do we need to do?"

A drop of each onto any exposed part of his skin would work, and Connie knew that. Steven let himself blow out a labored breath as a bit of weight lessened. They let him lie back into the sand and stare up at the blank blue sky.

"Steven, sweetie. You have to cry." Calloused hands rubbed at his cheek in sweet perfection as she coaxed him to cry it out.

After a moment, he could shed a few tears and let his eyes shut again so they would spill over. He didn't know where he was with these people, or why they were, but he could certainly cry about it. His tears were as silent as he was when they drifted towards his ears instead of down his cheeks. He could feel the corruption disappearing. The tormenting pain disappeared and he moaned his relief.

He couldn't have known how long they all sat there with him before someone got up, probably bored and going to go do whatever.

A few years or so in his mind passed before he could smell something cool and delicious as they returned very close to him. "I forgot we had pie leftovers so I added ice cream to further cool him down."

He managed to sniffle and turn his head towards where the smell was coming from. Apple pie a la mode. His mind could make out the face now, Jacob, holding it patiently for someone to take. Connie grabbed it and giggled. "I might eat your pie, Steven."

A part of his humor was restored and he chuffed his disagreement, still stationary but a bit more aware.

His friends laughed and it was so golden to him. Even through all of this, a situation in which he was so lucky he'd used the bathroom earlier for horribly embarrassing reasons he'd rather not entertain outside of therapy.

"Mmph, it's really good pie," Connie told him.

More movement was granted to him. He looked up at her and pouted. Mute panic attacks were common for him, he couldn't speak so much as he could emote with the help of the pills.

"There's my Starboy," She cooed warmly. "Open."

She fed him pie and ice cream on the beach, surrounded by their friends.

After it was all over, he crashed on the living room couch, too woozy from the full effect of his meds to make it all the way to their bedroom.

He was asleep, but he could hear them somehow. Perhaps he was just halfway asleep, he couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, Ni."

"No, it's... it's okay. I didn't realize you knew about panic attacks."

It was quiet for a moment and he imagined Adam tipping his head. "My mom used to have em really bad when I was a kid. Once it hits 30 minutes, it's unlikely to let up quickly without outside help before their body goes into ERS."

"What's that?" Anna asked, glancing over at Steven in concern.

"Emergency Room Shock. Or just shock. Once they get to a certain point, genuine medical intervention becomes more than necessary," Hazel answered.

"You always do such a good job with him, Ni. He needs that gentle touch. Sometimes though, you gotta get aggressive. My mom would stew in her misery and sometimes she just needed to be pushed. It sucks, you always feel cruel even after it works."

"I've had them before," Jacob confessed. "Not uh... not something I'd wish on my worst enemy. 'Cept maybe Allison. I wish her all of the worst ones. It feels like a void of nothing and everything all at the same time."

"You know what it's like?" Jasmin asked. "You've never had one with me, right?"

"Aw, I just usually go in the bathroom, turn on the shower and let it pass. S'all you can do. Ride the waves."

"Waves?"

"Quite literally. It comes in waves most of the time."

Steven wanted to shout his agreement. They were the kinds of waves that took out ships; they arched high over his head as the last one lulled before crashing down on him again.

"It's actually more like a heightening sensation of impending doom, with no discernible reason some of the time."

"Why don't you ask for help?"

"Pride. I've got terrible hubris," Jacob laughed. "I've never once uttered the word 'help' when I've actually needed it. I'm just glad we're here for him."

The hybrid passed out right then and there, a mix of lingering dread and exhaustion dragging him into a soundless, dreamless sleep.

When he woke up, Jacob was sitting near his head drinking a beer in the silence. Steven sighed and pulled him close, longing for Connie but happy with the company.

"Morning." Jacob hugged him back. "You feeling a bit better, yeah?"

Steven almost wanted to laugh. Apparently his friend had had enough beers that his cockney accent was nipping at his heels. He nodded, still mute but definitely feeling better.

"Ah, that's it then." He caught Steven taking a deep breath and looking toward the kitchen, where he had his evening tea boiling. His tea thermos sat near it and Jacob followed his gaze to it. "Fancy a cuppa?"

Steven gave him a weird look that told him he had no fucking clue what he was on about.

"Tea." He shifted to stand and focused a bit more on the words he was saying. "Do you want some tea, Steven? Helps me a helluva lot. Oy, shit. I've gotta get Connie, alright? We forced her to take a break."

He disappeared downstairs before Steven could beg him to stay. Annoyingly, childishly, he sniffled in upset. He wanted his goofy British friend to stay with him and keep saying ridiculous things.

Thankfully they both returned and Connie gathered him into her bosom. "My sweet Starboy. I love you. I love you so so much. We all do." She rained kisses on his head and smiled as his arms wrapped around her. She smelled like home, she was his home. Anywhere she was was his home. He rumbled in low content, testing his voice just a bit.

"I don't suppose a lad wants milk in his tea?" Jacob asked, clearly trying but failing to hold the humor back in his voice. "Bit of milks always the bees knees for an evening brew."

Steven looked up at Connie imploringly and she sighed. "I've got plenty to spare since I forgot to donate this week." Her breasts were noticeably different, firmer.

"Alright, come on then, Connie. May as well make the whole pot that way since the rest is mine," He gripped his beer and took a much longer drink to empty it. "S'enough for me tonight."

Connie snorted and tugged her shirt up to gage which one needed the release more. "Go for old poly on the left there. I'm engorged."

Jacob hummed and quite animatedly squeezed until the trickle turned into a stream. "Swear I've gone crackers," He mumbled as he switched to the other side. "Completely bonkers crackers poppycock."

"Now you're deliberately being British," She laughed. "You're still a goofball, aren't you?"

"I've got a million jokes and comebacks for when I have to take the piss for Steven if someone comes up. This time." He stirred the tea and a dangerously mischievous grin broke out. "The temptation to serve this to unknowing people is dreadful strong. It would make everyone horny."

"Keep fighting it." She gave him a kiss and grabbed a mug from the cabinet, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he turned red and faced away to pour his thermos full to the brim.

Steven sunk into the couch like he was a part of it. The tea was hot but warm enough to drink, and he whined for Connie's undivided attention while he drank it. He tried not to ask for anything after a panic attack, especially with how much of a burden he would feel like. But he allowed himself to need her, to need Jacob to make him tea.

He glanced at Jacob, sitting on the counter with one leg up staring out the window as he fell into his own world of thought. He would have to ask about Jacob's panic attacks, it would be nice to have someone who understood it in a more personal way.

"Are you ready to be babied and adored?" Connie asked as he set down the cup a few minutes later.

He nodded and they traipsed downstairs. Thankfulness like he'd never known filled him when they didn't make a huge deal about earlier and instead scooted to make room for him in the middle.

"Come on, at least cry where we can wipe away your tears, Starboy," Alex said with unusual gentleness.

He all but collapsed and rested his head on his Connie's lap while they once again surrounded him in support, Jacob joining shortly after.