Page 88 of Citius

“SD card. Can’t f-find it. Need it—the interception photo. Can’t lose it.”

No wonder he was in such a state. A clear photo of the game-changing interception was crucial for someone in his position.

I crouched beside him, keeping my voice smooth and steady. “It’ll be okay. We’ll find it.”

“B-but, but what if—?” His breathing hitched, and he curled in on himself even further. “No, have to find it. Must find it.”

“Everything’s going to be all right, Alijah. The first step is to get out of the rain, okay?” I placed a steady hand on his back. He flinched at the contact.

Channeling a bit of Rory, I traced slow, circular patterns between his shoulder blades, trying to offer some sense of comfort.

“Let’s go inside.”

“No, no, I c-can’t—”

“It’s too cold out here. Let’s go warm up first. Then we can talk. Can you do that for me?”

Alijah ran a trembling hand along his wet face, sniffled, and nodded faintly. “I guess.”

With one hand steadying his back and the other holding his freezing fist—clutched tight against his stomach—I guided Alijah down the stairs to ground level.

A somber Cal was waiting for us. He caught my eye and mouthed, “Panic attack?”

I nodded. Cal grimaced and pulled out his phone to text Owen.

Alijah managed to hold it together until we reached the nearest tunnel. Then he pulled away from me, leaning heavily against the wall.

“S-sorry, so sorry, you don’t… It’s my fault. All my fault.” His breath came in shallow, uneven spurts, his head hanging down. Condensation gathered at the ends of his thick lashes as he refused to meet my gaze. “Don’t bother, just let me… Not worth it, I’m not—”

“Alijah,” I gently interrupted, “what color is Cal’s hat?”

“C-Cal?”

“Yes, he’s right there. What color is his hat?”

Alijah blinked at me, confusion rippling across his tense features. Slowly, the black voids of his eyes began to constrict, forming pupil-adjacent shapes once more, bringing the world back into focus. He straightened slightly and rubbed a hand across his face.

A shaky glance at Cal was all he managed before recoiling into his protective shell once more. “Blue.”

“What else can you see?”

“Morgan,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with defeat, “why—”

“There’s mud on your shoes.” I leaned against the wall and pressed my shoulder to his, linking our arms together. I scanned our surroundings, sharing what stood out to me. “Someone dumped a whole thing of nachos on the ground next to the no smoking sign. And the sky is the same gray as Captain Tusker.” I gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. “Now, what can you see?”

Alijah’s eyes darted along the tunnel, skipping over Cal and the field before abruptly shifting downward to look at me. In a hoarse whisper, he confided, “You.”

“I don’t count,” I replied, trying to thread the needle between gentle teasing and encouragement. “Try again.”

“There, um, there’s…” He took an unsteady breath and forced himself to focus downfield. “The rain. It’s really coming down now… Someone just turned off the lights in the announcer’s booth, a-and… The guy packing up electrical stuff in the endzone looks miserable.”

“Yeah, he does,” Cal agreed quietly.

“Can you tell me three things you can hear?”

Alijah took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “Uh… I think someone’s phone is ringing. Your jacket keeps rustling. The rain—mostly rain.”

“Good, good. Now, we’re going to take a nice, deep breath together.” I glanced at Cal, giving him a subtle nod to join in, and led by example, filling my abdomen with as much fresh air as possible.

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