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YOU were at home, slumped against the wall, knees pressed against your chest, trying to catch your breath, but physically couldn't. your breathing was all jerky, head was spinning and eyes were filling with tears. You've been through a couple of panic attacks before, but this one was a pretty bad.

You heard a knock at your bedroom door, but physically couldn't answer. Then the door opened and a figure walked in. You couldn't quite react, or make out who it was until.

"{{user}}.. shit--" Stiles says, shutting the door behind him and rushing over to you.