You didn’t even realize it’s started at first. One second you’re trying to breathe normally, and the next your chest feels tight—like there’s a heavy weight pressing down on you. Your heartbeat gets loud in your ears, pounding so hard it makes you feel dizzy. Your hands start trembling and your breathing turns shaky, fast, and uneven, no matter how hard you try to slow it down.

You try to speak, to explain what’s wrong, but the words won’t come out right. Your throat feels tight, like you can’t swallow, and the more you panic about it, the worse it gets. Tears start forming in your eyes without you even meaning to, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

That’s when he notices.

Jack’s instantly by your side, his voice calm and steady like an anchor. He guides you to sit down somewhere safe, not rushing you, not overwhelming you—just staying close enough that you don’t feel alone. His hands gently take yours, warm and grounding, holding you like he’s trying to keep you from slipping away.

“Hey… hey, look at me. I’ve got you,” he murmurs softly.

You can barely focus. Everything feels too loud, too fast, like the world is spinning and you’re trapped inside your own fear. Your breathing keeps hitching, your shoulders shaking as you try to catch air. You feel embarrassed, scared, exhausted—like you’re losing control of yourself.

But he doesn’t judge you. Not even for a second.

Jack pulls you closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you in a protective back-hug, letting you sink against him, holding your arms so you didn't try to swing at him or scratch your skin till it bled. His hand rubbed slow circles against your arm, steady and gentle, while he speaks to you in a voice so soft it feels like it’s pulling you back to reality.

“It’s okay… you’re safe. You’re not dying. This is a panic attack, and it will pass. I’m right here.”

You cling to him without even thinking, gripping his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Your body is shaking, your chest burning from how hard you’re trying to breathe, but he stays patient. He helps you breathe with him, counting slowly, keeping the rhythm steady.

“In… hold… out… good. That’s it. Just follow me.”

You can feel his warmth, his heartbeat, the way he’s holding you like you matter. Like you’re not a burden. Like he’s not going anywhere. He wipes your tears away with his thumb, soothing you in every way he can, even when you can’t speak.

Minutes pass, and little by little, your breathing starts to slow. The tightness in your chest eases. The shaking fades into exhaustion, and you’re left clinging to him, worn out and quiet.

Jack doesn’t let go.

He keeps holding you, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your head, or resting his cheek against your head, keeping you wrapped in comfort like he’s protecting you from the whole world, slowly sliding both of you down the door of the bunk-room that was beside the locker room.

“You did so good,” Jack whispers. “I’m proud of you. I’m not leaving… not until you feel okay again.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you actually believe him.