trigger warning: anxiety attack.

so sorry for the long wait! i was out of the country with my family! please leave your comments, i love reading them ♡

*

Andy and Erika have worked out a new schedule for her at work so she can focus a bit more on her classes. She's taking a few of her major courses now and she wants to do her best.

First day back at school doesn't feel any different, and time passes by easily with introductions and discussions of the syllabus. She still keeps to herself, but her classmates in some of her courses are friendlier and more approachable this time around. Johann is in one of her majors, Introduction to Child Development, and in her water polo class, and he's charming and sweet. Blue-haired Kat is in Andy's Art Appreciation, and Andy thinks she's wild and fiery, with her choice of clothes and ridiculous amount of piercings, but she's also nice and sweet. She invited Andy for coffee this week, and Andy agreed.

By the end of the day, Andy's energy is still at its peak and her mood is bright—she made new friends! She pulls out her phone and types a message to Rhysand. Hi! I made new friends today, I'll tell you about it later :) I'm on my way to yours!! And, as usual, follows that up with a line of silly emojis.

Andy can't stop humming along to the song in her head during the bus ride. When she opens the door with her key, immediately kicking off her shoes—she notices a pair of white sneakers across the floor.

From its appearance and size, Andy would say that it belongs to a girl.

She thinks nothing of it—Rhysand and Jenner must have other girl friends, too. Siblings, maybe—but Jenner's, and not Rhysand's. He's still closed-off about that aspect of his life.

The living room and the kitchen are empty—save for the quiet sound coming from the television. Andy heads upstairs, and the voices coming from Rhysand's studio grow louder.

A girl's laughter. Soft, and a little airy, but pretty.

Andy's curiosity gets the best of her, and she pushes open the door.

Jenner's seated on the couch, with his legs spread open and a huge grin on his face. Rhysand's on his chair, and there's a hint of a smile on his face that takes Andy by surprise for a bit, and the girl settled on the edge of her boyfriend's desk is blonde, petite, and everything Andy isn't.

Everyone's eyes snap to hers. Jenner leaps up from his seat and hugs her. "Ah, here she is! Andy, sweet, we have a guest over. Veronica, this is Andy. Andy, this is my cousin Veronica."

Cousin. Jenner's cousin. Rhysand's...only ex?

Andy's lips part in shock as she stares at the girl.

Every edge and curve of her face is defined and perfected with makeup—but makeup that doesn't hide her beauty. Her light hair falls short along her shoulders, and in a tube top and skinny jeans, Andy doesn't have to look long to know that she has a perfect body shape, too.

"Um, hi," Andy says with a small laugh, extending a hand to the taller girl. "I'm Andy—oh, sorry, you already knew that."

Veronica reaches out to shake it. Her lips are lifted upwards, but it looks more like a smirk than a genuine smile. "Hello. I'm so glad to finally meet you."

Andy clasps her palms together and looks at Rhysand. "Sorry, is this bad a time? Should I come back later? Or tomorrow?"

Rhysand stands up and shakes his head, and as he moves closer to her, Andy's nerves calm down just a bit. "Don't leave. We were just about to grab dinner. We were going to pick you up."

Andy looks up at him. "Oh. Okay."

"Let's go!" Jenner cheers, heading for the door first. Veronica follows after him, but before Andy can even turn around, even with her heart feeling heavy, Rhysand tugs on her hand, and she stumbles towards him. Rhysand catches her with ease.

And being this close to him will never make the butterflies in Andy's stomach go away.

"What?" Andy squeaks, hiding her face in her hair.

Rhysands squeezes her waist. "You know who she is to me, right?"

She raises her chin and locks gazes with him. Rhysand's expression is carefully blank as he waits for her answer.

Andy nods once. "Yes."

"We're friends," he tells her, dipping his head down. "And she was just in town. Came by to drop something off."

Andy pauses. "I thought she screwed you over."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "She did. But like I said, we're friends."

Andy hums. She doesn't like it, but..."Okay."

"Okay," Rhysand repeats, brushing his lips over her forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't see your text."

"It's fine," she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. "Come on, I'm hungry."

Rhysand lets himself be dragged by his small girlfriend down the stairs. He snickers. "'Course you are."

Veronica and Jenner are impatiently waiting near the Jeep. Rhysand opens the passenger door for her, and Andy hides her smile with a bite of her lip as she climbs in. She doesn't want to see Veronica's face, but she suddenly wonders—did Rhysand open doors for her, too?

He probably did, Andy thinks, the smile fading from her face. Is it weird for Veronica to ride in the backseat and not in the passenger seat now? Is she annoyed, or feeling awkward about it?

Whatever it is, the blonde doesn't show it. In fact, she and Jenner chat animatedly in the back—playful banter, while Andy keeps her eyes on Rhysand while he drives.

Rhysand catches her eye and raises his eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Andy mutters back, leaning against the window.

Rhysand doesn't question her anymore.

Out of my league, Andy keeps repeating to herself—images of him and Veronica flashing in her mind. They look better together. They probably were better together. How could she hurt him? Leave him?

These thoughts continue to cloud her head as they walk inside a small restaurant. There's a small, uncomfortable feeling settling her stomach, but she ignores it. Andy and Rhysand sit next to each other, and Veronica sits across Rhysand, Jenner to her left.

They order their food, and as soon as the waitress leaves, Veronica leans forward with an excited and genuine smile and says, "D'you remember when we used to grab ham sticks just around the corner? Rhys loved those!"

"Oh, yeah," Jenner cut in, laughing. "He choked on one, too."

Rhysand rolls his eyes. "Let it go."

"You tried to play it cool but it didn't work. Not on me." Veronica rests her head on her palm and sighs. "That ham sticks stand is gone, though. How sad."

Andy doesn't know what they're talking about.

"Oh!" Jenner exclaims, snapping his fingers. "That time when we snuck in a pool in a hotel and the guard caught us. Ronnie's bikini top slipped off!"

The blonde laughed along. "It was a good distraction, though, you've got to admit."

"We were drunk," Rhysand tells Andy, reaching down to lace their fingers together. "Well, they were. I just went along with it. Kind of regretted it afterwards."

Andy smiles at him. "You don't get drunk, do you?"

"He does," Veronica answers with a grin. But she's not looking at Andy. She's looking at Rhysand. "He's just got a high tolerance, that's all. He's...clingier when he's drunk."

Jenner snickers and takes a sip of his water. "Understatement."

"Shut up," Rhysand says to him, narrowing his eyes.

Andy feels like she shouldn't be here. She squirms in her seat and clears her throat. "Um, so are you still in college, Veronica?"

The blonde takes a long while before shifting her attention to Andy. Her face drops the vibrancy and friendliness when she does. "I'm graduating this year, yeah. Law. And you?"

Even that makes her feel small. Andy feels caged. "I just started my sophomore year," she tells her quietly, tapping her foot on the ground. "Um, I'm a major in education."

"That's cool," Veronica says, but it's clear she doesn't think so.

Andy smiles at her nonetheless. "Thank you."

"Andy's actually a really good baker," Jenner interjects, winking at her. "She makes the best sweets. You should try them, Ronnie."

Andy nods enthusiastically and sits up straight. She opens her mouth to say something, to talk about one thing she loves, but Veronica beats her to it.

"Oh, remember when I tried to cook for you?" she asks Rhysand, a glint in her eye. "The kitchen was a mess. I burned our dinner, I think. And you were really mean about it!"

Rhysand scoffs. "Because it was bad."

Veronica pouts and crosses her arms. "You didn't have to be mean about it."

"I wasn't mean, I was honest."

"Yeah, and you were also honest when..."

Andy tunes her out. Them out. She's praying in her head that the food comes, so she can do something with herself while the three of them go a trip down memory lane. She hears Veronica's and Jenner's laughter buzzing in her ears, but she doesn't pay them any mind—just stares at the dark spot on the table and wonders how it ever got there.

Finally, their food arrives, and Andy lets go of Rhysand's hand. She wolfs down her meal and keeps her mouth shut, stays out of the conversation. She looks up every few times and smiles, and pretends to understand what they're talking about, just so Rhysand or Jenner don't notice that there's anything wrong.

Not that there's anything wrong. She's just being stupid.

What was Veronica's and Rhysand's relationship like? Was it more exciting for Rhysand? She's sure it was—Veronica seems the wild and free type. The type that doesn't give a crap, and the type to take risks. Andy doesn't think that Veronica closed her eyes during romantic scenes in movies, and that she doesn't duck her head whenever Rhysand tried to kiss her. She's older, prettier, more experienced, definitely a lot more confident, and Andy's pretty sure she's also smarter. 

The thought makes Andy's head spin. Suddenly, her palms start sweating.

The three continue their conversation while they eat. Andy looks down on her lap and pulls on her fingers, trying to count from one to five.

She slows down at three. Can't think anymore. Her chest feels tight, and it's almost as if...there isn't enough oxygen in her lungs.

Her fingers shake when she reaches for her glass of water, and it does nothing to calm her. Looking at Veronica makes it worse.

Andy feels sick to her stomach, like all the food she just ate is threatening to spill over.

And Andy knows this feeling. She's been through this countless of times before—and it never became easier.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she manages to tell Rhysand under her breath, not looking him in the eye.

She doesn't wait for him to acknowledge that he heard her, or to respond to her, before she's hurrying to the comfort room, even with her vision spinning.

Andy slams inside a cubicle and sinks to her knees, covering her face with her hands. She can't breathe, she can't breathe—and there's noise in her ears, and she can't believe this is happening, she was doing fine, she hasn't had an attack in a year, and she's finding it hard to breathe, to breathe—

She shuts her eyes and slaps her hands to her ears to drown out the noise, and the blackness spins, spins around her, but Andy keeps her back behind the wall and begins to count.

One. I'm fine, I'm okay, I'm not in any danger.

Two. Her own voice is echoing inside her head and it's so damn loud—I'm fine, I'm okay, my name is Andy Sanford.

Three. Her breaths still come in short pants, like she can't get any air in, and her legs kick the door and the wall and she feels like she's being boxed inside the cubicle, no, no—I'm fine, I'm okay, my name is Andy Sanford—

And I'm a pathetic, little girl who will never be good enough for anyone—

"No, no, no," Andy says, keeps breathing in and out—Four. I'm nineteen years old. A freshman—no, a sophomore at Pendleton—

In her head, she's screaming—and the screech is so loud that it burns her ears and her chest from the energy of it, and she's clawing, clutching her shirt—five—

"Shit."

It's Rhysand. Rhys—

"N-no," Andy chokes out, sobbing. She scoots further down the wall and spreads her palms out. "G-go away, no, no—"

"Sunshine," Rhysand says, and the name sends a jolt through her that she whimpers, and Rhysand kneels down, reaches out to her slowly. "Hey, hey, deep breaths. You're fine. You're safe."

"No!" she yells. Brokenly. "G-go a-away, I don't want y-you to see m-me—"

"I'm not fucking leaving," Rhysand says firmly. "Come on, you're okay. Take deep breaths for me."

Andy lets out another choking sob as she grips his arm. He's not leaving.

Five. Andy digs her nails into his skin. The room is still spinning, but there's a little oxygen in her lungs now. "I'm s-sorry—"

"Deep breaths," Rhysand tells her, locking his gaze with hers. "Come on, deep breaths."

Andy takes one. It's shaky, stuttering, but it's there—and the panic is still there, too, and she's staring at him through the wetness in her vision.

"You're doing good," Rhysand murmurs. "Deep breaths, baby."

Andy does as he says.

And despite the viciousness of the waves that pulled her into drowning, the waves that seem to calm with every, shaky breath she takes—she can see, that even with his calm voice, Rhysand looks pained. Almost as pained as she feels.

Rhysand strokes her back slowly. "It's okay. You're okay, sunshine. That's good."

She doesn't know how long they stay there, but she thinks it's until her heart has quieted, and her tears have dried.

*

She doesn't know how they get home, but when she comes to, it's just her and Rhysand on his bed.

He's sitting on its edge. Andy's lying down with her face tucked in his pillow. It smells like him.

"How do you feel?" Rhysand asks her. His voice rings across the quiet room.

Andy doesn't want to look at him. She turns around and curls in on herself. "I'm fine now," she says quietly, and it isn't exactly a lie. The noise and the drowning and the need to breathe are gone—but she's exhausted. Humiliated beyond words. Hates how she's so weak—how she let herself be easily washed away by the panic.

Rhysand saw her. And he's still here.

He won't be for long, the vile voice in Andy's head whispers.

She squeezes her eyes shut. There's no way Rhysand would still want her after this—

"Sunshine," Rhysand starts, and the mattress dips further with his weight. "Hey—"

"I didn't mean to," she interrupts him, clutching the covers to her chest as she inhales shakily. "I'm so sorry. Dump me now, but gently please, I'm still a little emotional—"

"Stop that," Rhysand snaps harshly, grasping her shoulder. He turns her around to face him. Rhysand's eyes are angry, and worried, and wrecked—all at the same time. "I don't understand how you think I'm going to leave you. There will be no dumping, not now, and not for a long time. So get those thoughts out of your head."

Andy swallows the lump in her throat and sniffles. "I'm so sorry, I haven't had an attack in almost a year, and I didn't want you to see me like that, I know I scared you, and I didn't mean to ruin the dinner—"

"Sanford."

"I really didn't mean to, please don't hate me—"

Rhysand exhales heavily and pulls her to him. "Come here."

Andy feels another fresh wave of tears prickling around the corner of her eyes as she wraps her arms around him. God, she's upset. She's so upset.

Rhysand draws his hand down her wrist slowly, and for a minute, there's only the sound of their breathing echoing across the room.

Andy fists her hand in his shirt. "I got lost in my own head," she starts to explain, mouth trembling, "about...Veronica. And you. And I was just being stupid."

"You weren't," Rhysand mutters gruffly, lips brushing her forehead. "I'm sorry. I should've noticed. And I should've stopped Veronica."

"No, it's fine," Andy tells him quietly. "It was my fault. You're friends with her—there's nothing wrong with reminiscing."

Rhysand shakes his head. "No, I—I get it. If I had been in your place, I'd be...well, I'd be pissed."

Andy manages a small smile. Her finger draws a circle against Rhysand's shirt—right on top of where his heart is. "What happened?"

"You passed out from exhaustion," Rhysand murmurs in her hair, "the minute I got you inside the car. Jenner and Veronica found another way home."

Andy lifts her head to look at him. "What did you tell them?"

"I said you weren't feeling well," he answers softly, staring at her. "And you looked it. You were so pale, sunshine."

Andy swallows hard and hugs him again. "How did you know?"

"When you left for the bathroom, you looked feverish. So I went to check up on you."

Andy thought he didn't hear her. "Did I scare you?"

Rhysand pauses. "No," he says. "The situation did. I didn't know how to help. And seeing you like that...I don't know. It hurt me. I'm sorry."

The words wrapped themselves around her heart and squeezed it tightly. "Thank you," she breathes, looking at him.

He looks back at her—eyes dark and lovely and beautiful. "Whatever those thoughts were in your head," he whispers, grazing his thumb on her cheek, "they're all wrong."

Andy grasps his hand. "Okay."

"I hate it," Rhysand rasps, "when you're so harsh on yourself. And I hate that you can't see what I see."\

Andy doesn't know what he sees, so she doesn't respond to that and buries her head further into his chest. "The attacks started in high school. I can't pinpoint when exactly, but, um, my dad knows about it. And I was doing well—the last one was about a year ago. My first week here."

Rhysand presses a kiss to her temple. "Okay."

"Okay," Andy whispers back. "Can we take a nap for a bit then eat? I'm a little hungry."

There's a smile on Rhysand's face when he says, "Whatever you want, sunshine."

Andy has never felt safer than she has in his arms.

*

Kat Wheeler almost makes Andy spill her coffee on the way to the art studio a couple of blocks from campus.

"Slow down!" Andy squeaks, desperately trying to keep the lid on her iced coffee intact while the strap of her bag falls off her shoulder, and her arm is being pulled out of its socket by a small, blue-haired, and very excited woman. "You're going to rip my arm off!"

"You're so dramatic," the art major says, laughing, loosening her hold on Andy's wrist. "We're almost there, come on!"

It takes less than five minutes, with Kat's power-walking and her pulling Andy along, to arrive at the empty yet bright studio. Kat immediately strides in like it's her home, greets the receptionist, and drags Andy up the stairs.

"Whoa," Andy breathes, looking around the room. "It's...white."

Kat takes off her flannel shirt and ties it around her waist, leaving her in a purple tank top, ripped denim shorts, and black stockings. Her blue hair is in space buns on both sides of her head, and there are glittering stars on her cheeks that shine under the light.

She snickers at Andy's word choice. "You mean it's blank. That's what the studio was going for—it's supposed to help us imagine what we'd want to paint on a blank canvas."

Andy sips on her drink and nods thoughtfully. "Well, that makes sense. What are we doing?"

Kat grins devilishly and lays out a huge, blank canvas on the floor. Then, heading towards the equipment, she pulls out buckets of paints and holds them up.

Andy blinks at her. "I am not dressed for body painting."

She's in a pink cashmere turtleneck sweater paired with a black skirt! She looks cute! No body painting!

Kat shoots her a flat look. "None of that killjoy bullshit, Andy. Come on! We're just going to dip our hands and feet in and have fun with it!"

Andy scrunches her nose. "That's a little unhygienic, don't you think? What about the next person who uses the paint?"

"These are mine, don't worry. And no excuses, take off your shoes!"

Andy knows she doesn't have a choice. With a sigh, she tosses her bag onto one corner, sips the last of her drink, and kicks off her shoes. "Fine, fine. If I get paint on my sweater, Kat, I swear—"

"That's a hideous sweater, anyway."

"Hey! It's cute!"

*

"You're covered in paint," Rhysand says, lips curving upward at the sight of her.

"Yeah," Andy says dejectedly, scowling at the green in her hair and the red in her top. "My outfit is ruined."

"You're not getting in my Jeep like that."

Andy huffs and turns around. "Fine."

"Hey, no, I was kidding, I'm not going to let you embarrass yourself in the bus," Rhysand rushes to say, grabbing the fabric of her sweater as he laughs.

But his laugh is short-lived, because Andy reaches out and smears paint on his cheek.

Rhysand's eyes shut as she paints his skin with purple. Andy grins widely. "You look cute in purple, baby."

His eyes fly open. "What?"

Andy blinks and turns around. "Nothing. Bye."

"Sanford."

"No! Shut up! You didn't hear anything!"

"Sanford!" Rhysand calls, sounding like he's trying his best to keep from smiling, and failing miserably. "Come back here!"

"No! Bye!"

And later, when Rhysand drops her off at her dorm building, she doesn't even let him shift the gear stick to park yet before she's jumping out of the vehicle and running inside.

Her phone buzzes. Night, baby.

Andy screams into her pillow.

But she's smiling, too.