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Armin’s head always felt heavy, full of flesh and blood that ached deeply.
The burden of stress he seemed to be born with somatized through migraines and anxiety that only appeared to get heavier with time.
Up until he reached university his life felt like a series of tragic events that were trying to test him; he’s not sure if he passed said tests, as what was supposed to make him stronger only deteriorated his mind.
Through therapy, pills and support —which he was terrified of losing— he managed to learn how to control certain aspects of his psyche; what before would ensue a spiral of panic, now only implied some tight feeling in his chest.
He hated this aspect of himself, and he sometimes would find himself questioning various aspects of it. Said aspects migrated from his relationship with himself and his relationships with others.
It must be tiring to deal with a person like him. He thought. Certain aspects of his life made him incredibly anxious, and the reactions said anxiety caused made him feel like a burden. The times his boyfriends — especially Eren — spent trying to get him to calm down from a panic or anxiety attack were too much to count.
He sometimes wondered if his reactions were innate or something he had developed over time:
“How much of oneself is a product of the context a person grows in and how much is who the person actually is?, is there a way to separate these two parts and reach authenticity? Or is authenticity being the victim of your circumstances?” He wrote on a piece of paper once. An answer he never explored.
He couldn’t help but wonder if he would be different, — better — if he hadn’t gone through what he did.
The death of his parents.
A childhood of harassment.
A childhood of food insecurity.
The death of his grandfather.
He felt like the only thing he could rely on was his mind, everything in his life was not permanent and would be ripped away from him at some point.
His wit was the only thing that kept some sort of value for himself, his ideas and analysis were everything he had ever been praised or valued for.
Thinking about losing it sent him down a hole that only seemed to grow deeper, the feeling of emptiness at the pit of his stomach getting stronger and stronger and harder to ignore.
Moments like this, when he’d get lost inside his own mind; the knitted gray matter that was impossible to swim through, always active and knotting; tangling into complicated contractions that not even himself could navigate, moments like this snapped him back into the state he hated the most.
His head felt heavy, his skull full, his limbs tingling violently, not a gentle tickle, but an unbearable feeling of numbness; his chest would feel tight, and so heavy, breathing was hard— but he couldn’t stop doing it, so so deeply it hurt inside, but it also scratched that itch that only grew stronger by the minute.
He wanted to scratch his skin off to take the feeling away, to slap and punch his legs until the tingling would stop. To breathe so deeply and rapidly that his lungs wouldn’t have the energy to keep on tightening.
“Armin!”
*
Finding your boyfriend on the floor hyperventilating while clutching onto his hair is not the best scene to walk into.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Jean crouched next to Armin, reached out to touch him but as soon as his hand made contact with Armin’s shoulder he flinched, hard.
His body shrunk onto itself and he only seemed to panic even more.
Stupid, you’re so stupid Jean. He thought to himself.
What did Eren say? What did Eren say?
Eren always knew what to do in situations like this.
They weren’t common, Armin hadn't had an episode like this in months, and Jean wasn’t sure how to handle it. Eren was the one who knew how to do it; he was the one who grew up with Armin after all.
“Armin, Armin it’s me”
Armin did not acknowledge his presence at all, still lost in his own mind.
He tried touching him again, this time he didn’t flinch away from the touch. Perhaps he was wrong, and Armin did hear him.
He hooked his arms under Armin’s and gently pulled him up so he was sitting against him.
He was breathing fast, scarily so, his face was red, and tear streaked, his eyes blown out and bloodshot. It was a bit disturbing to see him like this.
“Min I need you to breathe slower okay?”
Armin seemed to react to his voice, he didn’t exactly follow Jean’s directions, but he brought his hands down to grab one of Jean’s arms that was wrapped around his chest.
He gripped it tightly, trying to ground himself.
“Follow my breathing, okay? breathe in slowly” Armin tried his best to obey what Jean was telling him to do, his breath shallow and shaky. He took small gasps of air that were interrupted by sobs.
“Good, good job, now release it slowly too” Armin tried, but ended up breathing out suddenly, all the air escaping his lungs. Aside from panicked he was getting frustrated.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, try again”
Jean’s mind was racing, he didn’t know what else to do, how do you even help someone who’s having a panic attack?
His worry was skyrocketing, if Armin kept breathing like this he was scared he was gonna pass out due to hyperventilating.
Should he call Eren? Eren knew what to do. When it came to Armin he always did.
He felt Armin’s body twitching in his hold, small spasms that rocked through his body with every sob. Poor thing.
“Min, shhh, min try again, breathe in slowly” his voice was agitated.
It was useless. Armin’s responsiveness he had received a moment before was completely gone, the grip on his arm was getting so tight it hurt.
Should I just let him pass out?— No! Think Jean, what would Eren do?
He didn’t know what to do anymore, he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket and dialed Eren’s number with his free hand.
Please pick up, pick up, pick up
“Jean”
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard his boyfriend’s phone on the line.
“E-Eren! Armin— Armin is— he’s having a panic attack— I don’t know what to do— he’s breathing so fast and he isn’t responding to anything I— I say— and he— god Eren he looks so distressed—“
“Woah! Slow down, he’s what?”
“He’s having a panic attack and I don’t know what to do!” He admitted once again.
“Okay, Jean, I need you to stay calm, if he sees you’re also shaken up he’ll panic even more”
Jean took a deep breath, rearranged Armin, and held him a bit closer. “Okay, now what?”
“You’ve tried the basics right? Guiding him to breathe and stuff?”
“Yes”
“Is he talking?”
“No”
“I think you’re gonna need to leave him to calm down on his own, he’s far too gone, it won’t last very long, ten minutes at most, just, try to ground him, try to slow his breathing” Eren paused “there’s— there’s a bottle of pills in Armin’s drawer, they’re called… I don’t remember, Xanax or something like that— it’s an orange bottle, he doesn’t like it, but give him one if you really don’t think he’ll calm down. That’ll do”
“Okay, okay, orange bottle, got it”
“I’ll head back as soon as I can, don’t hesitate to call again if you need”
“I will, thank you”
After the call ended he focused his attention back on Armin, he was starting to gasp more than sob, coughing once in a while. Jean tried to remain calm.
“Min, breathe slowly, come on, you can do it.”
Armin just kept on coughing, wet sobs interrupted him, it looked like he was choking.
Who could remain calm in a situation like this?
Jean didn’t want to lose any more time, he picked Armin up by his arms, his feet still in contact with the floor and dragged him to the bedroom. It wasn’t the most graceful way to move someone around, but it’ll do.
He sat Armin down against the bed frame and hurried to find the pills. Just like Eren said they were hidden away in Armin’s drawer, in the far corner, he placed one on his hand. It was small and pink. Not particularly smooth.
He closed the drawer and moved back to where Armin was. He pressed the pill against his lips firmly, and pushed it in. Armin made a face of discomfort, it probably didn’t taste good. He tried to push it out but Jean pressed the palm of his hand against his lips. They were wet with tears and saliva. Not exactly the most pleasant experience. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s gonna make you feel better”
This seemed to agitate Armin further but Jean didn’t budge until the pill was dissolved. “I’m sorry min, but you have to take it”
When Armin finally swallowed Jean pulled his hand away, and brought him back into an embrace.
Armin coughed and gasped and squirmed in the hold, a few moments passed until Armin became boneless in his arms, he melted against the embrace. His breathing slowed down, though it was still a bit faster than normal.
“Shhh, you’re doing so well”
When he finally settled he placed his head on the crook of Jean’s neck.
They stayed like that for long minutes, Armin was trembling softly, just a slight shiver; but he was considerably calmer.
“…I— I’m sorry” he said, softly, so quietly, voice wet and teary, raspy.
Jean’s heart ached when those words slipped out of Armin’s mouth. After all these years of reassurance he still blamed himself. Still felt like a burden.
Jean hugged him tighter, pressed him closer. “Oh min, min don’t ever apologize for something like this”
Jean felt the cloth covering his shoulder slowly dampening, he felt so bad for Armin. He knew how guilty and unlovable he felt after episodes like this.
He stroked Armin’s back, trying to give him some comfort “shhhh, it’s okay baby”. Armin clung onto him, making himself small on Jean’s chest.
“Do you wanna go wash your face and then lay down for a bit?”
“Give— give me a minute.”
So Jean did.