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I was burning up.
I gasped, desperate for air.
I. Couldn’t. Breathe.
I pulled at my shirt repeatedly, trying to get more oxygen into my lungs, but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t fucking working, and I was going to die here all alone.
Tears were falling, soaking my cheeks, and I didn’t know when they’d begun. I supposed it didn’t matter.
I started pacing around my living room, my heavy, ineffectual breaths coming faster, harder, my hands involuntarily smacking my thighs with every step.
I couldn’t fucking breathe!
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I sensed this was a panic attack. I’d never had one, but I knew how they worked. Logically. But my mind wasn’t working well enough to be logical, to let me reassure myself that, despite its intensity, this would pass. My brain told me it was far more likely that this was the end.
Shit, I needed someone. I couldn’t go through this alone. I’d never survive.
I couldn’t make Henry come all this way when I was supposed to be headed back to him. I knew he’d do it in an instant, would want me to call him, even, but it would take him forever to get here. Besides, I didn’t want to bother him.
Then it hit me: Cameron.
I scrambled for my phone, blinking to clear my vision long enough to tap out a haphazard text to my best friend with shaking hands. I was grateful for the fortuitous timing, that I’d come clean about everything less than an hour ago.
He’d come. He’d help. He’d be here for me.
The thought calmed me slightly, enough for the tears to lessen. My head cleared, just a little, and an epiphany hit me between the eyes.
Even if Cameron had known nothing about what I was going through, he still would’ve come, no questions asked. He was a better friend than I ever could’ve hoped for. I’d known that somewhere deep inside, but I’d never been willing to let my guard down long enough to fully let him in. I’d been holding back.
But the last of my wall had been demolished with my earlier confessions, and I’d opened my heart to him, let him see the real me, no masks. It was terrifying, but I knew in my heart I could trust him.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and I flew to the door, shocked Cameron had made it so soon. My hot mess of a brain wouldn’t give me any plausible explanation, and in my current state, I didn’t really care. I was just so grateful he was here.
My bestie flew through the door as soon as I’d pulled it open, and he flung it shut behind me before wrapping me in a massive hug. He squeezed me tight, and I clung to him as the tears fell again. But this time, maybe for the first time, my tears weren’t from fear of the feelings or terror at what was happening.
These were tears of release.
I wasn’t alone, not by a long shot. Even though my parents had rejected me, I had a family. Ones who cared about me. Cameron, Sam, Ethan, Nate, Anson, Henry, and so many more made up the people who loved me for me, who would always be there for me.
I didn’t need the ones who shamed and rejected me because I didn’t fit into their perfect hetero child mold. I had the ones who embraced me because of who I loved, because of what I did, because of who I was.
I had been chosen; I would never be alone again.
When I pulled away from Cameron several minutes later, my hands had stopped shaking. My heart had stopped racing. My breathing was less labored. My tears were even drying.
I coughed, swallowing to coat my dry, scratchy throat. “Thanks for coming.”
He smiled at me kindly, cheeks streaked with tears as well. He’d been crying right along with me. “Thanks for calling me.” His smile widened, and I couldn’t help but return it. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.” I swiped my hands over my cheeks. “You’re the best, Cameron.”
My bestie chuckled. “Thanks, Tris. But I kinda miss your ridiculous nicknames for me.”
I grinned despite myself. “You’ve got it, Camerlot.”
He snorted. “That’s a new one.”
I shrugged, but the smile stayed plastered on my face. And in a last show of unmasked trust, I dropped into the accent I used in my live streams to reply. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”
