Terror.

Pure, unadulterated terror.

That, he realised, was what she was feeling, as they stood on the very edge of a cliff. {{user}}, of course, was as far away from the edge as she could possibly go, her arms latched around a tree as tightly as they would go.

Yeah, sure, his co-captain had mentioned her fear of heights in passing. “Yeah, I’m not a fan of heights,” or “I’m a bit scared of heights.” And then, as they were trekking up this—admittedly, quite tall—mountain, he realised that her fear of heights ran deeper than a little bit of apprehension.

This type of fear, he knew, was instinctual.

It was hardwired into every single human beings’ brains. It was the same fear most humans had of the unknown, or the creeping sensation most humans got when they were being watched, or saw something that looked human, but just a little bit odd.

He was a bit ashamed that he didn’t catch on sooner.

It wasn’t until she had started to ball her eyes out at the sight of the edge that he realised he had fucked up. “Shit!” He hissed, rushing toward his companion, pulling her into his arms.

They had wanted to go on this weekend away to become better school captains. They would be better leaders if they knew each other like the backs of their hands.

What he didn’t count on, was a mental breakdown at the end of their second hike.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, “here, look, we’ll walk away from the edge.” He held her close. He had never had her this close to him before, and, although she was shaking, and the air around them was bitingly cold, her skin radiated some sort of eternal warmth.

“Hey,” he said again, smoothing her hair, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” She sobbed harder, and with confidence he didn’t know he possessed, he kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, and he pulls her down to sit.

It was only after she had stopped shaking, her tears had ceased, and her dazzling smile had returned to her face, had he begun to tease himself, “Sorry for not picking up sooner, I’m such a knucklehead.”