Page 44 of Quarantined
“Milo, are you okay?”
He looks up. He is breathing heavily. I have seen that look before. I was right. He is spiraling.
“Shit. Are you having a panic attack?” I reach out, “Do you want to count down?”
I have helped him through so many of these episodes. I know the routine. Sometimes he can calm down by counting backward from ten. Sometimes it’s a breathing technique. At desperate times it’s a Xanax that does the trick.
Milo’s panic attacks are usually triggered by stress. Particularly stress over Mia and Reid. Something tells me that I am the trigger this time.
Double shit.
He has been worried about me. Maybe he feels guilty about what happened between us. He shouldn't. I was just as responsible. He didn’t force anything on me. I had plenty of opportunities to stop him. I could’ve talked to him. Instead, I ran and caused him to have a panic attack. I am a piece of shit.
“Milo, can you talk to me?”
I see him shaking but he still hasn’t said anything.
“Milo? What—?” I begin again but he stands and erupts out of nowhere.
“What is the matter with you? You think you can keep leaving without notice and I’ll keep letting it go?” His voice shakes with rage. His breathing is still ragged as he tries to calm down.
Before I can respond, Milo grabs me by the arms and gives me a shake.
“Why are you doing this to me, Rave?”
“I am sorry,” is all I can muster.
“No, Rave, that doesn’t cut it anymore,” Milo yells out. “You know how stressful my life is. I thought you of all people wouldn’t cause me stress like that. Instead of talking to me, you run. I have no fucking idea what's going through your head. Do you know how hard that’s been?”
I am overwhelmed with guilt. Guilt over leaving him this summer. Guilt over leaving today. My chest tightens. He is a human with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And I made him worry about me, of all people. I had vowed never to do that. I have to fix this.
“I-I didn’t mean to... I am sorry.”
“Stop saying that. I didn’t expect you of all people to behave like this. I expected you to act with more maturity. I am so disappointed in you, in all of this. I thought we—” Milo shakes his head. “You know what? Just leave. That’s what you do best.”
Those words come as a blow to me. I feel like my knees will give out any minute now, and I am going to fall. This is my worst fear and insecurity with Milo.
The day I moved into this house, I promised myself I would never be the cause of his stress. I wanted to make him proud of me. I wanted to be his support system, just like he was mine. After everything he has done for me, I have become Milo’s source of anguish and anxiety.
I am so disappointed in you, in all of this.
The words ring in my ears as tears sting my eyes. “Please stop,” I whisper. “Me leaving had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”
I put a hand on his cheek. I know that soothes him. He immediately freezes and closes his eyes. He covers my hand with one of his own. His hand is still shaking. He is still in full on panic mode. He is breathing heavily, trying to catch oxygen. I know from experience that when his attacks hit, he feels like he can’t breathe.
“Do you want me to grab a Xanax?”
“No.”
I stroke his cheeks with both hands. He pulls my hands from his cheeks, holding them tight. His eyes are bloodshot. He looks like shit.
“Okay. What do you need then?” I can’t stand his pain anymore.
“I only need you right now.”
I look at him for a long moment. Am I reading too much into this? Or does he mean… he can’t mean… can he? I try testing the water. “Okay. Talk to me. What do you need me to do?”
“Be here with me,” Milo whispers and shows me what he wants. Turning my palm, he kisses my pulse. He trails kisses up my arms and grabs my waist with trembling hands.
