[Trigger Warning: Depiction of a panic attack.]

I look down at my list and frown.

I would like to be writing lyrics right now, but apparently that ability has short-circuited during my second rehab stint. The best I can do are little one and two liners, scribbled at random. It's driving me bonkers.

Right now I was sitting on my bed. I had every intention of writing a song. Instead my mind wandered, and I thought about when I was in AA. I'm not planning on doing the program again, because I feel like I genuinely took everything I could have from it.

One of the things I took from the program were steps eight and nine. Those were the making amends steps. It was a difficult thing, because you had to go into it sincerely, and you weren't supposed to approach a person until you were sincere. It also wasn't supposed to feel like an obligation. You also were to go into it with zero preconceived notions and zero expectations. It was advisable to tread lightly; the conversation would be real, and the person had every right to not want to make amends with you.

You're supposed to be humble. It was important to own up to your faults, to take responsibility for your actions and the negative consequences that your actions caused. You weren't seeking pity, just being honest about the shitty things you had done.

And finally, if the other party was willing, you had to show them you were serious and rebuild trust. Obviously that couldn't happen overnight, but you should show a genuine interest in laying down the foundation of trust. And every person on this list I had half-heartedly drawn up, well...I had every intention of making an effort to make them trust me again.

Amy

Mom

Jake

Ben

Gloria

Bros

Simon

Tristan

I had made boxes around the difficult ones. Jake, I felt like at this point, was a fifty-fifty split as to whether he'd allow me redemption. Simon I wasn't overly worried about, as shitty as that sounds. Of course I feel awful for him being in jail now. At the same time though, he saved my life. If he wants nothing to do with me and hates my guts forever, I totally get and respect that.

The last one...Well, first I drew a little bubble box around it. Then I drew hearts all around. Then I went over his name a few times with my pen, making it dark. Then I made it stylized, adding curvy edges. Then I drew lightning bolts and began to color them in.

But by that point I was crying and having trouble breathing, and my coloring in the bolts turned into me scribbling all over the list I had made. When the paper was ripped unintentionally with the pen, I took the entire notebook and chucked it across the room. Then I took my pen and winged that too.

By that point I was having a full-blown panic attack, and I could hear my own breathing coming out as a high-pitched, asthmatic sounding whine. Not even bothering to slip my shoes on, I stumbled out of my room. It was stupid, my guitar was in there, but I didn't even close my door. Through my tears I stumbled to Scott's shut door.

It's past nine, when everyone is supposed to be in their room for the night. So I knock softly. When there's no answer, I knock a little harder. Still nothing. So then I freak out and start pounding on the door.

That gets his attention. Within seconds he throws the door open. Scott takes one look at me, and his jaw drops open.

"Bloody fucking shit, Orion!"

"Could I—could we—I need to—could w-we—I mean—maybe—"

Scott pulls me into his room and shuts the door. Leading me to a chair, he wordlessly gets me some water. Putting a hand on my shoulder a second, he crosses the room and picks up the facilities landline.

"No!" I hiss at him.

He looks at me like I'm stupid. "No?! Orion, you need help—"

"It's fine," I wheeze.

"Fine? Do you even know what that word means? Because right now, you are absolutely the antonym of fine—"

I go to him and press down on the hook on the phone cradle. I shake my head. "Panic attack."

He pauses, and then sets down the handset on its cradle. "Do you have meds?"

"Y-yeah. Kinda too late now," I manage to get out with my high-pitched laugh.

"What can I do?"

"Tell me my ex will take me back?"

Scott doesn't say anything, so I start to cry harder. "They were the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I lied to them, and I broke their trust, and now they're back in Texas and w-want nothing to do with me!"

Scott pauses. "Did you love them?"

"With all of my damn heart. I-I never felt that way about anyone."

"Did they feel the same way?"

I'm starting to calm down, just a little bit. We both move away from the phone to sit across from one another another. "I—yeah. W-when I was in the hospital, after I had tried to off myself, Tris told me as much."

Scott smiles a smooth, even smile, and I can tell he's trying to calm my nerves. "Tell me about Tris."

"Well..." I say, and I'm happy when my breathing is starting to slow. "I kind of swept my ex up into my life. The whole kit and kaboodle. I threw myself wholly into the relationship. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could be me around someone, yaknow?"

Scott is being so patient, so nice. He crosses his knees, wrapping his hands around them and looking at me with rapt attention.

"I felt...Calm, around Tris. For the most part. Just looking at Tris could calm me down." I smile, and I know it was wistful. "No one has ever had that effect on me."

"Tris sounds perfect."

I've calmed down. I still feel sick to my stomach, and my limbs are still numb, but I've gotten a handle on my breathing and I've stopped crying. "Yeah. Then I fucked it up."

Scott leans his cheek against his palm. "Do you mind filling me in? If it's too rough, forget it—"

"No, no, it's fine," I say as I wave my hand. "I stopped going to therapy and AA and everything. I started drinking again. Well...Tris came by one day when I wasn't home, searched my house. Found alcohol. We got into a huge fight and we broke up. Well, I stupidly called it off. Then a week later I ended up in the hospital after an attempt."

For a long while Scott doesn't say anything. I wish he would, because I can feel my heart thumping and it's making me panic again. Right as I'm about to excuse myself to go take my anxiety meds, he speaks.

"Do you think if you apologized to Tris, she'd forgive you?"

I don't correct him. Instead I just look at the ground. Not like it mattered if Scott knew my ex was a guy. Not like Scott would ever meet Tristan. Because I fucked up any realm of possibility where that would ever become a reality.

"I d'no," I answer truthfully.

"You sound crazy about Tris."

"I am," I whisper softly, a tear trickling down my cheek. "The worst part of everything is, Tris takes responsibility for my unraveling."

Scott lapses into silence again. Finally, he speaks.

"Look." He stares at me evenly. "I'm not trying to give you false hope or anything. But what you're describing sounds like a really special bond. I wouldn't give up just yet, if I were you."

I bite my lip a moment to hold back tears. "Y-you think?"

"I would at least try. She sounds worth it."

Pronouns be damned, Scott was right. Tristan was worth it.