(tw: detailed mentions of panic attacks)

There's not a lot in the world that scares Sean.

He's been afraid of things before, don't get him wrong. He's no valiant hero, and the restricted few things that do scare him, they keep him awake at night.

Back when he lived with his parents, one of his biggest fears was disappointing them. It was kind of ridiculous, really, considering that now he can't recall a single moment when he saw any expression on their faces aside from distaste. For everything. Being desperate for their approval had cost him his happiness for most of his life, and now that he thinks about it, the dread he felt back then doesn't come anywhere close to his biggest fear today.

Talking to Atlas again.

The thought of seeing him in person makes Sean's blood curdle and his veins freeze over. He's afraid because if just catching sight of the man at the grocery store had his stomach feeling like his intestines were coiling in on themselves, he has no idea how he's supposed to breathe when Atlas actually looks back at him.

Imani's gentle hands massaging his shoulders in assurance is the only thing keeping him connected to reality, and if his brain wasn't so garbled right now and his limbs weren't shaking inside his flesh, he would have turned around and apologized to her. Because he knows for a fact that she ended her date with Kaia early so she could stay by his side.

And not just her, but everyone is home. Juni and Layla are in the kitchen, cooking and talking loudly amongst themselves, Imani is standing behind him on the couch, and Ved is sitting opposite them with his laptop and probably replying to more emails from Abyss.

He's never been more grateful for their existence before.

Which brings him to address another one of his fears. Losing LM.

But at the back of his mind, Sean knows that it's just his suppressed anxiety speaking. If there are any people in the world he knows would fight to stay by his side, it's them. Their wordless support speaks louder than his subconscious anyway.

He tries to focus on the sound of the plates clattering and the water running in the kitchen, and makes another failed attempt at bringing his breathing under control. If the pace with which it's currently going, he's going to start hyperventilating soon.

Deciding to just meet Atlas at his home was a good idea, after all.

Sean doesn't know how he would have felt being around strangers when he's feeling like this.

He can hear the panic ringing in his ears and taste it on his tongue, and the second the doorbell echoes inside the house, his eyes squeeze shut and a sound akin to a whimper leaves his lips mere milliseconds before he lowers his head into his shaking hands.

He hates me. He has to hate me. He can't not hate me.

"Breathe, Sean," Imani says to him, one hand squeezing his shoulder and the other sliding down to soothingly rub circles in the middle of his chest. "You're okay. Come on. Breathe." Just when he feels the first few traces of an anxiety attack vibrate through his bones, he blindly reaches for her hand and takes it in a bruising hold.

Imani doesn't complain though, and soon Sean distantly feels warm hands settling on his knees.

He feels cold all over.

"Hey." The voice this time is undoubtedly Ved's. "Hey. Sean." Every voice sounds like it's coming from miles away, the blaring in his ears getting louder and louder until he feels like his head is going to explode from the noise. He wants to hear his friends' voices. He's trying. He's trying to listen to them. Trying to look for the words Ved is saying to him and trying to let himself feel Imani's grounding hold on him. "...right here," Ved is saying now. "We're here for you. And we got you. Sean?"

His breath is stuck in his throat, but he tries to force out a hum in reply. He assumes that he succeeds, even if the sound may have come out all wrong, because Ved continues to talk to him in a calm voice.

"You're listening to me, right?"

Yeah, he tries to say, but there are too many sounds. Too much happening inside his body, too much racket inside his head. "Y-Yes," he chokes out eventually, after God knows how long, and loses all of his breath again.

"One to five between each breath. Ready?"

Sean feels his eyes fill with tears, but he nods. If Ved wasn't kneeling before him and Imani wasn't standing behind him, he would have already been curled up on the couch with his knees held to his chest right now.

"Sean?"

He's growing hyper aware of the fact that Atlas is currently standing at his door. So close. He's so close. Too close. Too close. Too close. Can't breathe.

"Sean."

"Please—"

"Wait, can you two step away for a sec?" Layla asks, and Sean has no idea when she came in. He feels the couch dip beside him, and both Imani and Ved let go of him. "Sean, honey. You're not alone. Take your time. Juni's with him."

Him. Him him him. Atlas's face flashes inside his head and Sean has to try with every fiber of his being to not dry heave on the floor.

"One to five," Ved repeats slowly, and from his voice, Sean can tell that he's still standing close somewhere. "I can count for you. Is that okay, Sean?"

Somebody's now running their hand up and down his back, and it's such a familiar gesture that he manages a nod with much more ease this time.

And soon enough, with Layla squeezing his arm and Ved repeating the numbers patiently for him until he's almost breathing properly, Sean opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of their familiar living room, albeit a little blurry.

"Okay?" Ved asks, and Sean nods again. He feels like he just ran a marathon, but when Ved asks him if it's okay for him to step back closer, Sean lets him. And when Layla helps him take small sips of water a few seconds later, she continues to caress his back. Imani's hands go back to massaging his shoulder, and he can finally, finally feel the warmth again.

"Thank you." His voice is hoarse and his throat still feels a little clogged up, but other than that, he feels better. He doesn't know how long it's gonna last, though. The worst part about this is that every nerve in his body yearns to hear Atlas again. But at the same time, he's scared out of his mind. And he can't pinpoint what part about meeting Atlas he's dreading the most.

"Whenever you're ready," Imani tells him quietly, setting her chin atop his head. Then she says something that pulls at the strings of his heart and snaps them back in place. "He wouldn't be here if he didn't want to see you."

Everything's a blur after that.

His friends talk to him about things he won't remember later even if he tried, and the next few sips of water that he takes feel thick in his throat. He doesn't shake his head when they ask him if he's ready, though, and the few seconds between Sean's eyes leaving the floor to fix in the direction of the door feel like they last centuries.

He isn't ready. He would have never been ready.

He couldn't have been ready for the man whose heart he broke seven years ago standing only a few feet away from Sean.

Sean's heart jumps to his throat.

Atlas Blaine is every bit beautiful that he was the last time Sean touched their foreheads together and told him that he loved him.

Back at the store, he had only caught a glimpse of the side of his face and made his way out of the place so fast, he could barely remember what happened on the way. But today, Sean runs his eyes over his features with his stomach in stitches, and takes in the similarities and differences between the Atlas he saw before he moved away like a coward and the Atlas standing before him.

His hair is just as dark as it was before, and the silver nose ring that almost made his mother faint in distress when he newly got it is still in place. He's taller and broader and he has obviously grown, as has Sean, and the latter feels the sting behind his eyes grow more painful at the reminder of how long it's been.

I'm sorry, he wants to say, but Atlas is now making his way over with an expression on his face that Sean can't decipher in the midst of his panic, but he can't. He can't speak. I'm so fucking sorry.

Sean watches him pull his lips between his teeth—a nervous habit that's all too familiar—before he looks at everyone else in the room and asks, in a voice that sounds achingly familiar and intensely deeper to Sean's ears, "Could you guys please give us a moment?"

They don't leave until Sean meets their eyes and manages to affirm their silent question with the smallest of nods.

And then the room is empty aside from the two of them and Sean's breathing is too loud. He hadn't been able to bring himself to look at Atlas's face again, and he despises the fact that he can already feel another wave of pre-panic nausea washing over him again.

His chest aches. It aches endlessly and without mercy and the room feels too small.

One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five, one, two three, four, five, one, two three, four, five, one, two three, four, five, one, two three, four, five, one, two three, four, five, one, two three, four, five—

"Hi."

—onetwothreefourfive onetwothreefourfive onetwthreefourfive fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Please.

In mere seconds, Atlas is kneeling before him just like Ved had, but this feels much, much different. So much more painful. He squeezes his eyes shut and even though it makes him feel like a terrible person, he hopes that this is a dream.

Hopes that the boy he never deserved isn't on his knees in front of him and tenderly taking hold of his hands like the last seven years didn't happen. Hopes that the ground swallows him whole and the angels forgive him for being a coward. Hopes that when he opens his eyes, he's going to be in his room, covered in sweat from the morning light overheating his skin.

Except, it's real. And Atlas is saying something and Sean is missing all of it because his ears are ringing again. He blinks and blinks and blinks, like it would silence the noise inside his head... and then Atlas is palming his face between both his hands and it all goes quiet.

His voice is the only thing that remains.

"It all turned out fine, Sean," he's saying, and Sean tries to blink the wetness in his eyes away and fails. When the first tear trails down the corner of his eye and Atlas catches it with his thumb, Sean's expression crumbles. "It all turned out fine," Atlas repeats, and it only makes Sean cry harder. "I talked to them, and it took a little bit of time," he tells Sean, his own voice turning watery. "But it all turned out okay. Are you listening to me, Sean? I was—I am okay."

This is wrong, Sean thinks, shaking his head in Atlas's hold. He should be mad at me. He should hate me for running away. He shouldn't be here.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, taking hold of the wrists near his face and clutching onto them like his life depends on it. He's afraid that if he tried to say more, he'd only cough out blood. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." Atlas only shakes his head but Sean can't stop. He can't stop apologizing. No amount of grieving and no number of apologies would be big enough for Sean to make up for all the time he has spent running.

"Do you remember what I wrote in my last letter?" Atlas asks when Sean doesn't say anything else. Sean can't tell him that he wishes he didn't remember. He wishes he had never read it. And he wishes he hadn't safely kept it away in the third drawer of the desk in his room.

If you're ready to come back one day, the words that are now unreadable from wet patches had been written on the letter back then, and time is on our side, I hope you know that I'll welcome you with open arms.

I miss you.

And I love you. Always.

a/n: atlas(t) . lol