[ it is funny how someone so small, so delicate as Olivia still possesses a presence that is impossible to ignore — he looks up at her, and despite the way his breaths are quick, shallow, barely reaching his lungs before he expels the air from them again, he feels... relieved, like with a touch of her hand, she is giving him focus, centering him again, pulling him away from the spiral that is his mind —
only her question pushes him back, back over the edge, over the cliff and into the storm waiting below. ]
I —
[ everything, he thinks.
Peter is infected, he's missing, I don't know if he's still alive, if he's hurt someone else.
All I'm good for is making plans, and I never saw this coming, I have no plan for this, nothing. No plan B, not even plan A. I'm useless and I hate it.
I might be infected, too.
instead, what he manages to say is, ]
I can't — breathe.
[ he knows a panic attack when he has one, has had enough of them in the past for it to be familiar, but this? this is quite possibly the single worst one yet. he hopes Olivia understands what is happening, because he can't force out the words to explain. ]
no subject
only her question pushes him back, back over the edge, over the cliff and into the storm waiting below. ]
I —
[ everything, he thinks.
Peter is infected, he's missing, I don't know if he's still alive, if he's hurt someone else.
All I'm good for is making plans, and I never saw this coming, I have no plan for this, nothing. No plan B, not even plan A. I'm useless and I hate it.
I might be infected, too.
instead, what he manages to say is, ]
I can't — breathe.
[ he knows a panic attack when he has one, has had enough of them in the past for it to be familiar, but this? this is quite possibly the single worst one yet. he hopes Olivia understands what is happening, because he can't force out the words to explain. ]