TW: panic attack (idk if this is needed but uh better safe than sorry)

Lucas couldn't feel his fingers anymore, but he didn't mind. Even though Sparrow was distracted with that annoying bread thief, that was kind of better for Lucas, because now he could admire Sparrow without Sparrow noticing. It meant for stale conversation, but Lucas was grateful for that, too, because it was only a matter of time before he said something embarrassing or annoying and Sparrow would realize how weird Lucas was and Sparrow would leave and Lucas would be left all alone once more with only his stupid mouthy guitar to keep him company and though Lucas knew that the guitar was magical, thanks to his mother, sometimes he wondered if Owen spoke because Lucas was going crazy, and then Lucas began to think, maybe I am crazy, it wasn't like people stuck around –

"I can't see the stand anymore," Sparrow said, snapping Lucas out of his chaotic train of thought.

Lucas blinked and tried to see through the growing crowd, but he could not spot the redhead, nor the pillory itself. "Where did all those people come from?" he muttered, suddenly achingly aware of the sweat that made his hand slick. He twitched his fingers, as though he were going to let go, and Sparrow tightened his hold, his brow furrowed as he glared toward the pillory.

Like a human holding a cat, Lucas paused, holding still in case Sparrow remembered that he was holding Lucas's hand and let go. He licked his lips, his heart trembling against his ribcage.

"Should we...should we go see what's happening?"

Then there was the telltale ring of metal against metal, and Sparrow shot up, almost reluctantly dropping Lucas's hand. Earlier, Lucas couldn't stop thinking about how sweaty he was, but now his hand felt empty and light.

As much as he knew it was selfish, he couldn't help thinking why couldn't you fight later? as he followed Sparrow to the door.

Jenson didn't have time to think. He slashed and jabbed and parried and swung, sweat dripping from his brow as he fought a friend, desperation following his every move as he tried to stay alive. Though he desperately wanted to win, he did not want to do it at the expense of Voronwe's life.

That would be a waste of talent that could keep us safe, in the event of kingdom invasion, Jenson managed to think, though he knew he was making excuses. Voronwe had been there for as long as Jenson had been even thinking about becoming a knight, and though the old man was annoying and always on Jenson's tail about doing the right thing, he didn't want to imagine life without Voronwe.

"Voronwe," he panted, dodging a thrust, "think about this for a second. You're committing treason."

Voronwe lunged without a pause. "Alright," he huffed, "I've thought about it. Yield and I won't hurt you."

"Don't you mean yield and I won't hurt you?" For a second it almost felt like their old sparring days, and Jenson smirked. "You're a pro with the bow and arrow, the sword has always been my forte."

"I've held a sword longer than you've been alive, boy."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment, old man."

As Voronwe lunged at Jenson and their swords met with a resounding clang that echoed in Lee's ears, he and Montgomery nimbly leapt from the roof to the street below, rushing over to the growing crowd. Lee was desperate to get some action – sitting on a rooftop with a pretty girl was fun and all, but he was itching to move and do something. By the time they found Marcia, Lee had made three girls giggle by giving them a grin, and had snatched two necklaces, five bracelets, three marbles, one ruby coin, two emerald chips, a handful of fuzz from pockets, and a carved elephant. The only reason he stopped was because he no longer had room in his pockets.

"Hello again, daughter!" Montgomery said brightly, quickly ducking under the injured redhead's other side. "Fancy meeting you here?"

Lee pursed his lips, glancing from Montgomery to Marcia and back. Montgomery seemed to be far too young to have had Marcia, he thought absently, pushing the crowd so the girls could drag the semiconscious Phoenix.

Marcia's face seemed to redden, and she gaped over at Montgomery. "How'd you find me?"

Montgomery shrugged. "I wasn't looking for you, I was looking for petty revenge, I'll have you know."

"I wanted to bring you," Marcia offered, ducking into a nearbye alleyway, "But Adrian is the final word, and he said no."

"Want to include me in this riveting discussion?" Lee broke in, bored.

The girls ignored him as Marcia gently rested Phoenix's shoulder against the wall.

"Look, let's let bygones be bygones, shall we?" Montgomery said. "I know where we can take the fugitive."

A low, loud scream broke through the clanging, piercing the current conversation like a dagger through a dress. Lee peered out of the alleyway, somewhat disappointed that he was missing all the fighting, money signs appearing in his head to accompany every person that fled past his hideout.

So much to steal, he thought longingly.

"...I don't care what Adrian says, if you still want in then we could always use more people."

Lee glanced over at them again, but was instantly distracted by Phoenix, who was slowly sliding to his knees, terror painting his face white, a tear slowly tracking it's way down his cheek.

"Hey, guys," Lee said casually, his heart thumping from past memories. "I think there's something wrong with our criminal."

His entire torso was on fire.

He couldn't keep his eyes open.

It was freezing; he couldn't stop shivering, and with every shudder a stab of white-hot pain bolted down his body. Soon he could barely feel anything save for the blinding pain and soft hands holding him up.

The world was loud, excruciatingly so, yet he couldn't hear. The world was bright, blindingly so, and yet he could not see.

A memory hit him, seemingly unbidden, of the night before, all too real. He could hear his scream echoing in his ears again, and he could see her twisted, demented grin, as she raised the knife dripping with blood, and then...

And then Phoenix couldn't breathe. The world snapped back into focus and he found himself on his knees, yanking at his hair almost animalistically, unable to take a deep breath, like he was underwater, like he was drowning, his lungs spasming, his back screaming, his breath ragged and coarse –

Hands were on his face and then he was looking at a girl.

The girl.

His saviour, the guardian angel he didn't deserve.

She was speaking but he couldn't hear her, she was tapping his face but he couldn't feel it.

Something wet dripped onto his hand, and he curled into himself, wishing this were over, wishing he were dead.

Through his panic, he kept thinking this is embarrassing over and over, until it became a mantra, until he could barely understand what the words meant he only knew that they were right and he needed to stop.

Phoenix was stronger than this.

One bad night wouldn't kill him.

He had to think of something funny, but the only thing he could think of was his mantra, the one he couldn't understand, but the mantra that made a sob catch in his burning throat, so embarrassing so embarrassing soembarrassingsoembarrassingstopitPhoenixstopit.

And then he was back, the knife glinting above his chest, the ropes rubbing his wrists raw, and then his voice gave out, and he was still screaming, but no one could hear him.

Black spots danced in his vision and he remembered that he wasn't breathing. But he couldn't seem to draw in a breath.

Something soft touched his hair, and then someone stronger than him was holding his arms at his sides. The soft touch left to be replaced with air, a light breeze against his forehead.

Slowly he began to realize his angel was back, breathing gently on his forehead, and three breaths later he understood what she said.

"Breathe with me, Phoenix."

And then she breathed on him again, long, slow, steady, deep.

Blinking quickly, Phoenix tried to copy her. He failed the first ten times, but soon his chest wasn't aching, and now that his chest wasn't aching, he could focus more on her light breath touching his cheek. And now that he could focus more on her breath, he could hear her steadiness, the way she was steadfast while he was trembling.

As soon as he could breathe again, he dissolved into tears, hiding his face in the sleeve of his shirt.

His angel gently cupped his face in her hands, pulling him toward her, and letting him wet the shoulder of her dress with his fear, pain, and anger.

So. It's been a while, guys.

I didn't realize it's been TWO MONTHS WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME *squints at Lenny*

Sometimes I'm all like yeah I just updated ha not to brag or anything, and then I check and it's been an entire month and I'm like, huh. Where did the time go. Who knew time was liquid. Usually that's how it goes but this time it was two months sooooo

Sorry it's kinda short, I figured something is better than nothing. Also I TOTALLY edited and did NOT write this in two days in a flurry ignoring what sentences are just kind of tapping on my keyboard and ignoring my WIP that I've been ignoring for far too long.

I have a problem.

Anyway, enough about me! Who's your favorite character from anything? I'd have to say Stiles or Percy Jackson or Kaz or Inej or Chandler Bing (I think I have a thing for sassy boys who are the comic relief but secretly badass) (Inej is the exception).

So the other week, someone I knew had a panic attack, and it was terrifying, but I made her put her head between her knees and I tried to get her to breathe with me by breathing on her ear, because she couldn't concentrate on what I was saying and wasn't breathing with me, so I kind of wrote the last part from that experience slightly.

CHARACTERS

Lucas Avftyr ~ sapphire10fun

Pan/Sparrow ~ I think he made a new account but I can't find it

Jenson Falkaner ~ DURMSTRANGG

Voronwe Tar-Minyatur ~ WingedWarrior1731

Lee Vikari ~ TheExplosiveCyborg

Lilith Montgomery ~ Calliopes_Muse

Marcia Juavez ~ epicredpenn