JUST STANDING WAITING FOR THE PUNCHES
//tw: references to panic attacks
Cold water for red eyes, a warm drink held for nerves, counting to ten to steady breathing, at worst a sick note posted to a bedroom door. He didn't really remember when he had his first, erm, what did they call it? It was something-attack; he couldn't quite remember the specifics, it'd been a long time.
They were easier to tide with the help of his furred companions, though they were still frequent. He hadn't had one since joining up with the Lodge, but it was only a matter of time really; he was quite proud of himself for not panicking too badly when Beorhtwulf got hurt and managing to avoid a full on attack.
The ones that happened in the mornings were, in his opinion, the worst ones. Waking up to intense existential dread, the feeling of being in danger constantly washing over him, his entire body shaking as he gasped for breath that felt like it couldn't get past the lump in his throat. All in all, a horrible experience not made better when someone knocked on his door and announced that breakfast was being served.
It'd been ten minutes since he should've shown up for breakfast, and he felt like he was finally through it. His nerves were shot and he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Still, he dragged himself up and got dressed and moving; he was supposed to be helping clean the stables today, and people would be annoyed if he didn't show up.
He headed to the dining hall first, grabbing whatever food was still left and finding a quiet spot to sit. Claire and Jeremiah nudged his hands and whined at him, knowing something was wrong and keeping glued to his side. If any of the remaining humans in the hall noticed Tomorrow was a mess that morning, they hadn't brought it up yet though.
'cus it don't make a difference anyway
tags - 26yrs - 6'1 - he/him - representative of fl
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tw for anxiety and panic attacks
☁ hayley had battled plenty of monsters in her twenty-three years of life, but anxiety had never been one, not until more recently. she'd always been a force to be reckoned with, confident and powerful, moving mountains with her will. that is, until she learned of her pregnancy; that had been the first of many panic attacks. her chest tight, breathing hitched, body taut with fear. she'd curled up in the corner of the poorly lit house she'd been staying in and screamed and sobbed and choked on air until she fell asleep, a thousand pound weight on her heart. she didn't know how she'd do it, how she could be so cruel as to bring a child into a world run by guerilla warfare.
but she pushed through. the panic set in all too often over the seven months of pregnancy, and even when she was giving birth, it weighed her heart heavy. she'd been forced to have a child in the dangerous winter of the abandoned village, with only a young boy's help. that child had been born too soon, and struggled each day, only causing further anxiety. most nights, whether she'd admit it or not, hayley could do nothing but sit beside hope's crib and muffle her sobs through a pillow, afraid her child might not live to see the next sunrise.
hayley was also equally late to breakfast that morning, though her appearance said enough; bags grew beneath her eyes, brown locks were in a messy low bun, and anyone who'd passed by her mostly soundproofed room within the last hour might have heard hope crying. it would seem her daughter had picked up a winter cold, and though hayley's immune system was much stronger, she hadn't gotten much sleep, up all night patting the baby with a cold cloth and wiping up vomit. the baby now, finally, slept soundly in the carrier that hayley lugged along with her, bowl of food in the other hand. her eyes found tomorrow, who was also apparently late, and she tentatively approached and took a seat across from him, setting the carrier on the ground beside her. she dared a glance at the baby, relieved to find her still sleeping, sucking at a pacifier.
❝you okay?❞ she inquired of the man, brows furrowing just a bit in concern when she took in his appearance. he looked... less than lovely, though she really couldn't speak of it considering her own appearance.
JUST STANDING WAITING FOR THE PUNCHES
Tomorrow didn't doubt he wasn't the only person to deal with such anxiousness on a deeper level; it was honestly miraculous that so many people could just... Function, just like that. Coping with the stress of a world that thrived on pain and tragedy seemed like an impossible task to him, but it was perhaps that he was just a bit too soft. He'd always been told he was weak-willed, and it still carried true.
His eyes were drawn to Hayley as she sat down across from him, and he glanced at the baby carrier filled with a napping Hope. He pushed the hair away from his face and took a sip of water, taking in Hayley's ragged appearance. She was usually a bit more put together, but he supposed everyone had off days; he certainly was having one right now.
"Rough morning." Tomorrow responded, voice low and rough. He didn't want to say more than that, the idea of keeping up a conversation appealing to him about as much as continually bashing his head in with a brick. Still, he didn't want to leave Hayley hanging; she was the nicest person he knew, and he didn't find any joy in seeing her so exhausted.
"I'm assuming the same could be said for you?" Tomorrow said, in a bit of a roundabout way of asking a question but... He wasn't thinking entirely clearly, and it'd have to do for now. He only let out a small sigh as Claire grabbed a piece of bacon - well, it was rabbit bacon or something? he was pretty sure they didn't have pigs - right off his plate and proceeded to hide under the table and devour it.
'cus it don't make a difference anyway
tags - 26yrs - 6'1 - he/him - representative of fl
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; color: #484848; line-height: 22px;"]rough morning. yeah, that was one way to put it. it felt like every morning, these days, was a rough one. but it would get easier, it had to get easier. that silent prayer was all she had to get her by anymore. ❝i've had bet-❞ she got cut off as a sudden yawn seized her, hand moving to cover her mouth the bed she could as her jaw opened, brain oxygenating. when it stopped, she blinked a few times, eyes refocusing on the older male. ❝sorry- i've, uh, had better mornings.❞ she said, gaze shifting to hope, checking once more that the baby was still fast asleep.
absentmindedly, in the way that mothers tended to do, she reached out and tucked the blanket more comfortably around the baby, glancing over to tomorrow as she did so. ❝i've got a sick newborn, what's up with you?❞ anxiety wasn't her first thought, and if it had been, she'd have had the manners not to ask. but instead, she assumed that perhaps the dogs had been upset, or he'd foregone sleep for reading or walking. in a world where your life was constantly in danger, anxiety wasn't something she often thought of others suffering from. she sort of figured people just... dealt with it. the validity of mental health issues was prevalent in her mind, but the existence of them was not.
JUST STANDING WAITING FOR THE PUNCHES
Tomorrow frowned sympathetically as Hayley's words were cut off by a yawn, which was plenty infectious because he followed it up with a yawn of his own. He'd heard somewhere it was because of the air pressure changing when someone yawned, causing other people to want to yawn as well; he couldn't be sure that was accurate, but it was something interesting to ponder.
At Jeremiah's insistent nudging at his hands and plate, Tomorrow grabbed the last large piece of food to eat for himself before taking the plate and laying it on the ground for the two dogs. He blinked, not really wanting to answer her question; he was more worried about Hope being sick, his own issues weren't life or death. It might feel like life or death in the moment, but it wasn't.
"Just uh- not coping that well with recent events, I guess." Tomorrow said, voice still low and soft. He punctuated his words with a shrug and anxiously ruffled Claire's fur. "Is there anything I can do to help with Hope? I can watch her while you take a nap." Tomorrow offered, trying to subtly change the subject and failing a bit.
'cus it don't make a difference anyway
tags - 26yrs - 6'1 - he/him - representative of fl
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