Chapter Text
You’re not totally sure when it starts. One second you’re in rehearsal, jumping and laughing through the air and the next you’re making a quick excuse, ducking out of the practice room door while your chest tightens painfully. Your clutching at shirt, trying simultaneously to get somewhere safe and out of your own body. The bathroom door screeches as you pry it open, and you barely register the sound of it slamming back into place as you come face to face with your own reflection. Everything is too loud and too bright and you try to count your breathing and list five things you can see but its not working and the pressure in your chest is just getting tighter and tighter.
You’re trying, desperately, to suck air into your useless, useless lungs but the room is spinning and if you weren’t on the floor before, you definitely are now. It registers in the back of your hand that being sprawled out on the gray tile is not doing you any favors and your nails scratch and screech on the smooth surface as you sit up enough to press yourself into the equally gray wall. Your hands press into the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, trying to stay in this reality. You told them you were going for a bathroom break, would be gone less than five, and kept that smile on your face as best as you while practically bolting out of the practice room. Your hands are shaking, trembling so hard you can hear your nails rattling against the shiny tile and that can’t happen because you’re supposed to be out there, with them and not losing your grip on reality in the bathroom.
You cycle through strategies, panic escalating as nothing seems to work. You know your breathing is shallow enough to be dangerous and the fact that you can’t feel the tears leaking from your eyes doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Tears swim up, blurring your vision, which REALLY can’t because then you’ll have to go outside and face them and then they’ll know how broken you really are and you’ve been trying to stop that from happening for two full years and it seems like you’re spectacularly fucking that up like you always do and someone might be calling your name.
Someone most definitely IS calling your name, and you blink enough that you can make out pale skin and dark hair and deep, soulful eyes now full with her own scared tears as she drops to knees and FUCK-it’s Yoonchae. And now Sophia’s going to be mad that you’re scaring baby Yoonchae and you think you might actually win a world record for how fast your heart is beating. Your legs are tucked as far into your chest as physically possible, trying to make yourself as small as you can be, body smushed into a corner. Your back scrapes against the wall and the pain is a welcome sensation, another tether to this reality. You’re trying desperately to preserve any dignity you have left in front of Yoonchae, but if you had any bearing on reality past the fact that you are still, you would notice the way Yoonchae’s pale hands tremble as they press into the fabric of your sweatpants on top of your knees. You would also notice how her eyes keep flitting between your crying, shaking, breathless form and the doorway as if she could will Sophia or Megan to appear.
She tries your name again, but you’ve buried your face into your arms, trying so hard to not let her see you cry and begging your hoodie to swallow you up as the voices get louder in your head. She’s never gonna look at you the same way. She’s gonna tell Sophia and Sophia’s gonna hate you and they’re all gonna hate you because now rehearsal is late and they were never supposed to know about the whole ‘panic attack’ thing and and and.
And then there are warm hands on your face, nails ghosting towards the back of your neck and palms pressing steady into your tear stained cheeks. Your face is being guided up towards the ceiling and fluorescent lights and more importantly, your leader’s concerned face. Fuck. You look to the side immediately, trying to escape her gaze, and you’re met with the sight of pink bangs and a jade bracelet. Double fuck.
You open your mouth to speak, to explain yourself, to tell them to go back to rehearsal. To beg them please please please not hate you. Instead you’re met with calm, quiet, Tagalog hushing.
“Breathe, mahal. You need to breathe. You’re okay. It’s okay now, we got you.” You look back at Sophia, expecting harshness and judgement that only exist in your mind. Instead, her eyes shine with care as she cradles your face in her hands.
“Breathe with me. I know, I know you’re scared. Just try.” Megan sucks her own deep breath, counting as she exhales. You try and follow, to do something right, but your chest is still too tight and the air rushes out of your body. Megan continues unfazed, as Sophia moves one hand to stop your nails from digging into your skin and the other to wipe your still falling tears. A full, deep breath rushes into your lungs for the first time in your not sure how long you’ve been in this bathroom and you’re horrified when it comes out as a full-blown sob. You try to hold the next one in, but you’re painfully unsuccessful. Megan’s blue nails card through your hair and Sophia murmurs a constant stream of reassurance. None of which you feel like you deserve.
You’re not sure how long the three of you sit on the floor just breathing, but your tears eventually slow and the air stops feeling like broken glass. You loosen your knees, letting your legs stretch out and Megan immediately wraps you up into her arms, pulling you away from the wall. She shifts the two of you so Sophia can rub your back, trying to erase the harsh lines left from being pressed too roughly into the tile. Megan’s voice is low, and grounding as she fills the silence with all the little things you say to her when her anxiety starts to take over. Her own guilt ramps up in her head. She shares a look with Sophia, one that says “How did we not know? How did we not know she was suffering in silence?”
Sophia shakes her head, already making a plan for how they’re going to bring this up to you tomorrow. One thing she knows for sure: this wasn’t the first panic attack you’ve had. The way you had run from them? Had hidden in, seeking safety? It tells her things she doesn’t want to hear. That maybe you’ve been alone in this battle your whole life. She hands never still on your back, but her mind wanders all the way back to Dream. You had seen them in their worst moments, yet two years into knowing you, this was the first time she had really seen you cry. You hadn’t been stoic in Dream Academy, in fact you were their ray of sunshine. You had just the right balance of silliness and thoughtfulness that you had managed to crack even Sophia’s walls down. No one had noticed how high yours had been built up.
They’re both ripped from their thoughts as you begin to pull back from Megan, shame and embarrassment written all over the flush of your face.
“I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracks. “You were never meant to see me like that.” Sophia’s heart cracks. The feeling that she had failed one of her members weighs heavy and suffocating on her chest.
“No. None of that.” She tilts your head towards her with two fingers under your chin. “You are not alone. Thank you for trusting us to keep you safe, mahal.” Megan nods, squeezing one of your hands. “You’re not alone anymore.” Megan whispers, still clearly remembering some of her own anxiety attacks with you at her side, knowing just what to say, how to help.
“You were never meant to be.” She adds. You nod, not trusting your voice. Sophia moves to stand, and her and Megan hook their arms with yours to pull you to your feet. You waver slightly, legs and feet numb, muscles exhausted. You catch a glimpse of the yourself in the bathroom mirror. Its a sight you’ve grown familiar with over the years, tear tracks, flushed skin, exhaustion evident in the way you stand. The two girls holding you up is a foreign sight, though and your feel your breath catch all over again. Megan and Sophia notice and the three of you start towards the door and the hallway and back to the rest of the group. Oh god. The rest of the group. They must all know. And Yoonchae. Fuck. How the fuck are you ever going to face them? Ever look any of them in the eyes again? Tell them to trust you on stage?
Megan must feel you tensing beside her, because she stops and moves to meet your eyes again.
“Is Yoonchae okay?” You rasp out, voice hoarse. Sophia smiles, small but genuine. It’s so typical of your character, making sure everyone else is okay as your world falls apart.
“Yoonchae’s okay. She was just worried about you when you didn’t come back. She called for us. She just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You nod too fast for someone who just cried for more than an hour and is probably very dehydrated. Megan does that thing she does sometimes where she looks at people and guesses what’s wrong before they have to say it.
“No one is mad at you. We love you, honey. Take another deep breath. Yeah, just like that. Good. Really, really good. Manon and Dani took Yoonchae home already, okay?” You feel your chest tighten again. The rest of rehearsal was called off even though everyone is stressed about scheduling because of you. As much as you try, you can never just make it stop.
The three of you walk quietly down the hall, until you reach the practice room lounge, a smaller off-shoot of the dance studio with an assorted arrangement of couches. Jackets, bags and shoes are usually left askew across them, but the only thing out of place is a very anxious looking Lara Raj. She stands immediately when she sees you, closing the distance in quick strides. Sophia moves from your side to grab both your bag and her bag, hoping Lara will distract you enough to let her carry it for you.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, as she stands before you. Instead she just opens her arms and Megan lets you fall into them and you’re maybe starting to believe that for the first time ever people might actually mean what they say.
“Hey.” She breathes, relief washing over her. She pulls back to look at you, a thousand words on the tip of her tongue. Instead she reaches out to rustle your hair because there will be a long conversation but it will not happen here and now and so she tries to press all her warmth into your scalp through her fingertips.
You find yourself in the backseat of Sophia’s car, with Megan flipping through Spotify and your head pressed against the window. Lara doesn’t let go of your hand, running her nails up and down your forearm, soothing you the way Sophia comforts Dani. The car pulls into the driveway much too soon for your liking and you’re quickly confronted with the fact that you’ll have to face all 6 of them at the same time.
“Breathe.” Lara whispers. “You’re okay. And safe.”
Sophia smiles and nods as she swings open your side of her car. The lock chirps quietly and reality sets in. Despite Lara’s words (and Sophia’s and Megan’s) walking to the front door still makes your heart heavy with dread, which is not aided when Manon throws the door open before you can turn the handle. You’re expecting a lecture, or another heavy, heavy moment but instead the edges of her dark lips turn up and she playfully scans the four of you.
“Made it back in one piece I see.” She says, already laughing. “I guess Sophia drove.” She laughs, you can hear Daniela’s giggle ringing light and happy through the living room and Megan surges forward, shoving playfully. It’s so normal, like nothing had changed at all. Maybe it really didn’t.
You make it past Megan and Manon and your eyes find Dani on the couch, Yoonchae lingering in the kitchen doorway. They’ve both showered and changed into cozy pajamas and from the outside it looks like a regular night and you’re so scared it will never feel regular again. Dani smiles at you from the couch and nods, her expression saying We’ll have our moment later, and you walk past her to Yoonchae. You're expecting to see fear, dread, or disgust in her eyes. Instead she buries her face into your shoulder, her voice muffled as she speaks.
“What?” You ask, moving your arms around her to hold her close.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, unnie.” Her eyes cast downward in a way that twists your stomach, her dark hair fanning out in front of her face just like it did hours ago in the bathroom. When she speaks next her voice is small. “I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do.”
“Hey, no. None of that. This is my-“
“If you finish that sentence with ‘fault’ I’m going to throw my slipper at you!” You turn and look at Daniela, already armed with one of her UGGs in hand. You close your mouth, a faint smile pressing against your lips. “Yeah that’s what I thought!” She smirks.
“It’s okay, Yoonchae. Really.” She nods, not fully believing you. You make a mental note to add it to the list of hard conversations you’ll all be having tomorrow.
By the time you manage to drag yourself upstairs and into the shower, the full weight of the day hits you like a semi-truck. You crawl out of the shower and flop back onto your bed. Your brain has just enough time to do what is always does: torment. The negative, taunting thoughts ramp back up. How this was your fault, how they’re lying and don’t love you anymore. Your fault your fault your fault.
“Movie?”
The lights in your room are dim already, the warm glow of little fairy twinkle just barely catches Sophia’s face as she leans against the doorframe. You’re exhausted. You know she’s tired. Lara, sprawled out on her bed across the room is tired. You don’t fully understand how she always knows what the group needs. What you need. Your mind twists, venom bleeding back into the peace they’ve so carefully tried to build. Her plate is already full enough, she’s already so stressed, why WHY do you keep adding to it? It’s not her burden to bear. It’s not any of theirs.
Lara hums, melodic and thoughtful, and she starts to move, stretching her arms above her head and letting her black hair fall around her shoulders.
“Sounds good, Soph.” They both turn, expectant.
“Guys, I’m really tired.” You try, sheepish. Lara huffs, and you don’t have to look up to know she’s rolling her eyes. If you had you would’ve seen the way Sophia’s face had dipped from excitement back to the edges of concern. It’s a face you’ve seen enough of today.
“Girl. Be so for real. We’re all tired. You’re okay. Get your ass up.” Lara playfully swats at your knee before leaning over to pull you into a sitting position by your shoulders, your head falling back. You can smell her shampoo, jasmine and rose, and shift so you can see the softness of her eyes. You heart both pangs and swells, equal parts gratitude and guilt. They both see the way you hesitate to lean against her. “We want to help. Let us.” She whispers into the space between you two.
Manon’s face joins Sophia’s in the doorway and a high pitched screech from somewhere downstairs can only mean Dani and Megan fighting for the remote. From the sheer volume of the noise, it seems like Megan’s pulled some dirty trick to keep Dani from winning.
“It’s like, past midnight.” You try to reason, to excuse it. You’re fine. No, really, you’re fine. It was one panic attack. Like, less (okay fine, more) than an hour of struggling to breathe, of feeling like your heart is going to crack out of your chest. It’s over now. You’re totally, completely, 100% all good, and absolutely do not crave the comfort they’re offering. Not at all.
Sophia tuts, unimpressed, and you think for one second that on some cosmic level, she can read your mind. Lara pulls you the rest of the way out of your bed, intertwining her hand with yours without mention or fuss. Manon slings her arm around your shoulders as you walk past her out of the room you, Lara, and Megan share.
“Don’t do that.” She leans in close, braids brushing against the flushed skin of your cheek, her nails scratching the sides of your arm through your hoodie. “It’s okay. We know. You’re not a burden.”
She squeezes lightly, jostling you like you're her little sister making fun of her on the playground and not fully an adult to which she shares no blood relation.
“And we’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, okay?” You just lean your head against her shoulder as you walk down the stairs, trying to bite back the thoughts creeping into your head that they shouldn’t have to do this. You reach the bottom of the stairs before Manon can chastise you for digging your teeth into your bottom lip.
Megan was, in fact, victorious in the battle over the remote, as she grins proudly from the soft plush of the couch, holding her prize. At her side, Yoonchae is already half-asleep, her face pressed into the fabric of Megan’s shirt as she flips through Netflix. She should be in bed right now. She must be so tired. They’re all so tired. Why couldn’t you just let them rest?
Daniela pouts from the corner of the couch, her curls mussed from what must have been a formidable fight. She lifts her hand over the back of the couch, fingers outstretched to you. Your feet don’t move until Manon nudges you with her shoulder and Lara is already three steps ahead, guiding you the way she’s done since you were teenagers at Dream.
You take Dani’s hand and yelp in surprise and she pulls you over the back of the couch and firmly into her lap. She leans your back to her chest and wraps her arms around your shoulders. You can feel her curls tickling your T-shirt covered shoulders and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as she gently runs her fingers through your hairline. Sophia plops down next to you, Lara finds herself between Megan and Sophia, and Manon finds herself at Daniela’s other side. A movie hits the screen and your heart warms a little more when you realize it’s a movie you mentioned liking once to Megan months ago. The room falls into hushed quiet and despite your exhaustion and residual panic and the fact that you do like this movie, your attention is captivated by the six girls in front of you.
Yoonchae, their snarky, sassy, spitfire, who was equal parts hysterical and caring. Who trusted all of you enough to make grammar mistakes and have her back.
Megan, who battled her own panic and anxieties, and had talked (now) all of you out of your own heads and scary thoughts. Who was loyal to a fault and unafraid to protect any of you.
Lara, who loved loud and proud. Who’s courage (and fashion sense) you admired on a daily basis. Who would always pick up the phone, who would do anything to bring any of you comfort.
Sophia, their leader. You could always trust her to be there when you needed her. Who’s presence was so comforting and so caring you couldn’t help but fall into it.
Daniela, who the media labeled as a “mean girl” but cherished you all like you were the most precious things to her. Certified hype woman.
Manon, who was so calm, so good with her words. She knew what to say, and when to say it. She could bring a smile to your faces in the worst situations.
So maybe, maybe, you were going to be okay. And maybe Daniela’s arm around your waist and her hand in your hair is so comforting your eyes start to close. Maybe Dani nudges Sophia as gently as she possibly can when she’s sure you’re asleep. Maybe they let the rest of the movie play out, content to let you bask in the comfort they now know you need. Maybe they don’t even try to wake you up when the credits roll, Daniela just lifts you as smoothly as she possibly can and you just barely wake, soothed back to sleep by Manon’s fingers brushing your temple.
Maybe Lara moves back the covers on your bed so Dani can tuck you in, folding the bedspread around your peaceful figure. Maybe Sophia smooths the blankets out, carefully preserving the cocoon of safety you’re wrapped in. Maybe she drops a kiss to your forehead, and smooths a hand through Lara’s hair and spends a minute rubbing Megan’s back before she leaves, turning the light out.
You wouldn’t know, because you’re asleep and safe, tucked into the family you chose. Right where you belong. Your worst fears temporarily relieved, your bond with your girls stronger than ever. The truth in its rightful place: out in the open.