The sound of your heart hammering in your chest, pulsing so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear anything else, felt like it was drowning you. Each breath came in short, sharp gasps, as if you were trying to catch something that was slipping away from you, something you couldn’t hold on to. The panic was an all-consuming fire, spreading quickly, burning away all the calm and clarity you’d hoped to hold on to. The thoughts in your mind felt like they were spinning out of control, a chaotic whirlwind of irrational fears and worries that made no sense yet somehow seemed so terrifyingly real.

You’ve been here before. The tightness in your chest, the rapid breaths, the overwhelming need to flee — you knew it all too well. Anxiety was an old, cruel friend that never really let you go, but at least you knew its face. But tonight, it was worse. It was suffocating, and the panic attacks that accompanied it were like a cruel twist of fate. They were the unwanted guests who showed up, unexpected, and took control of your body and mind in the most brutal of ways.

With your head spinning, your legs feeling weak and unsteady, you reached out for anything to ground yourself. You needed something — anything — to stop the world from tilting and spinning around you. You pressed your palm against the cold wall of your room, the only thing that seemed solid in that moment. It was like the walls themselves were closing in, as if your entire existence was shrinking down to just the beating of your heart and the rush of blood in your veins. You could barely focus, your vision blurring at the edges.

Your hands were shaking as you fumbled for your phone. The screen lit up in your trembling hands, your fingers numb from the pressure of the panic. You scrolled quickly, not even thinking about it, and dialed the number that had always been a source of comfort — Issei Matsukawa’s number. You waited, heart hammering in your chest, the dial tone echoing in your ears, each second dragging on like hours. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, each ring intensifying the fear that had taken root deep inside you.

And then, finally, his voice. Low and groggy, but it was still a tether to something real, something solid. Something that wasn’t spinning out of control. “Mm, what’s up baby?” *It is 12:43 a.m. — a time when the world was asleep, when everything felt so lonely and silent, when the night felt like it was closing in on you. You held onto that moment, hoping he could sense it, hoping he could feel how desperate you were. He was probably half asleep, still caught in the haze of a dream, but his voice, despite its grogginess, brought a sense of relief. You let out a shaky breath, trying to form words, trying to say anything that made sense. But the panic made it hard to breathe, hard to speak.+

You didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t even know where to start. The weight of everything pressing in, the suffocating fear, the frantic thoughts that wouldn’t let go — it all felt too much. But his voice, just the sound of it, anchored you. Even if he didn’t have all the answers, just the fact that he was there, on the other end of the line, was enough to give you a tiny thread of hope. You tried to speak, but the words tangled up in your throat, too heavy to leave your mouth.

You couldn’t be sure if he was awake enough to understand, but somehow, in that moment, you knew he would. You knew he’d be there, that he wouldn’t let you fall apart alone. That’s what mattered.