Regulus was dying. He was sure of it.
He was sitting in a dark broom closet in the hallway, his breath frantic. His mind was lost in the hellscape of his memories as he tried to remind himself how to breathe again. The panic that overtook his body was all-encompassing as he sat there, shaking so hard that the very room around him seemed to tremble. Though, that may have been a trick of the mind, as the room kept shifting between the tiny closet around him now and the shaking closet door of his room in Paris as the memories shifted through his mind like a movie screen. The world was spinning, the ground was shaking, his body was made of glass as he choked on the air around him everytime he tried to take another breath. He was drowning. He was truly drowning in the emotions that spun all around him and dragged him down into the depths of his mind.
How long had it been now? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? How long since he had ran from the classroom full of prying eyes? All time was lost on him as he shook and cried, curling tighter into himself each second that passed. The voices that swirled around him grew louder even than the beating of his heart in his ears and the harshness of his breath in his throat. He was drowning. He was dying. Every second that passed made him more and more sure that this was the end. Regulus sat there, eyes unfocused but still open wide, as everytime he closed them he was transported back to that godforsaken closet with his mother pounding on the door and shaking the handle.
Panic attacks were becoming more and more common for Regulus, as they usually did the closer he got to summer holidays. This time, he had been in potions class when it started. He was working on a class assignment when he had turned around, accidentally nudging a large jar of deadly nightshade off of the table, freezing in his tracks when he heard the glass shatter on the ground behind him. His heart already racing, he turned to see nearly every student had turned to look at where the sharp sound had come from, staring at him in silence. Regulus' breath caught as he stayed frozen, his eyes wide as he pushed off the tears that were threatening to well in his eyes.
"Sorry..." Regulus whispered under his breath, barely audible. Slowly, the peering eyes around him turned away as the other students turned back to their own works, a few hushed whispers and quiet conversation breaking out in the classroom again.
Regulus slowly and shakily leaned down to pick up the glass and herbs and from a couple tables away from him James Potter shot out of his seat. The boy confidently strode over to him and crouched down, immediately helping him clean the mess. The amber skinned boy smiled to him with kind eyes as he spoke, but the blood rushing past his ears made it nearly impossible for Regulus to hear anything else. The first signs of panic starting to set in, Regulus stayed frozen in his place crouched on the floor, tears starting to flow silently as he stared at the pile of broken glass in front of him.
"Hey," James said softly, "are you okay, Reg?"
"I'm fine."
Regulus' tone was completely flat and emotionless, despite the wall of panic rising in his body. He felt a strange warmth running down his hand, but didn't pay much attention as he continued to try to calm himself. James' eye furrowed in concern and he looked down, seeing the line of blood trickling down from the younger boy's hand where he must have cut himself on the glass. Gently, he reached out and grabbed onto Regulus' wrist. And, God, that threw Regulus over the edge.
"Shit, Reg, you're bleeding. Are you-"
"Arrête! Lâche-moi!" Regulus yelled, much louder than the soft-spoken boy thought himself capable of.
Suddenly, the classroom had fallen silent again, every pair of eyes piercing into him as the world spun and his mind screamed. Looking back down at James with tears in his eyes, he saw the boy's deep eyes stare at him in shock.
"Regulus, I-" James started to speak, but was cut off by the boy grabbing his wand from the table and turning toward the door, running out of the classroom as fast as he could. He didn't know where he was going but he needed to get away. His harsh breathing making his throat sore as he ran, Regulus could feel his heart beating out of his chest as memories flashed before his eyes. A broken glass, his mother's yells, her harsh grasp on his wrist as she dragged him from the dining room, the blood on his hands as he ran away and locked himself in his closet... God, it was all too real again.
And there he was, sobbing and hyperventilating in a dusty broom closet, praying to whatever God was listening that it would just stop. Knees curled into his chest, Regulus cried and cried as the world spun around him.
"Maman," he choked out to no one between his sobs, "Maman arrêt, arrête s'il vous plaît Maman..."
The world collapsed around him as he shook, the memory of the shaking closet door and his mother's screams making him clasp his hands over his ears to no avail. The tightness in his chest grew to a climax as he whined with each exhale. Suddenly, a light knocking sound came from the door behind him and Regulus yelped, eyes shooting open as his breathing continued to struggle. Between his racing mind and his memories bleeding into reality, he assumed it was his older brother Sirius. He didn't know why, but in his actively shattering mind, it just seemed to make sense.
"S'en aller," Regulus bit out, the panic and fear in his voice coming off more as anger. "Je ne veux pas de ton aide!"
For a moment there was silence outside the door, and all that Regulus could hear was his own harsh breaths. Then, a soft voice rang from outside the closet, a voice that was much too soft to be his brother.
"I, uh, I didn't really get any of that." James spoke quietly, trying not to startle Regulus any more than he already was. "I don't know French."
Regulus held his breath listening, not sure what to say. His mind was having trouble switching between languages in the midst of the panic, and he wasn't sure he would be able to communicate to well in this state anyway. Still, he hesitantly spoke back through the wood of the broom closet door.
"Piss off," he said, though he couldn't muster any hate behind it now. "That pretty much s-sums it up."
"Oh," James said in reply, unsure of how to respond. The older boy thought for a moment before sitting in front of the door and gently knocking again, making the boy inside jump back again.
"Mon Dieu, will you stop that?!"
"Right," James mentally kicked himself. "Sorry, can I come in?"
"No, I said piss off!" Regulus nearly shouted back, but James could hear the strain in his voice and the labored breathing as the boy continued to hide his sobs as best as he could.
"Regulus," James sighed as he leaned his head against the closet door. "I just want to help. At least let me look at your hand? Please?"
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus as his mind raced, he just wanted it to stop. Hesitantly, he reached up to the door knob and turned it, hissing when he touched it as he forgot about the gash on his hand. When the door cracked, he peaked out through the sliver and stared at James.
"Why do you want to help me s-so much?" Regulus asked between heavy breaths. "Why are you being so nice?"
"Because," James smiled softly at him as he spoke through the crack in the doorway. "You deserve help and kindness. If I'm able to give it to you I have to at least try."
Regulus wanted to argue with him but couldn't find himself capable, both between the boy's gentle composure and the lack of oxygen in his brain at that moment. So instead he leaned back out of the doorway and pushed it open, inviting James inside silently. When the other boy entered and closed the door behind him, he became very aware of his own breaths. The dark and quiet of the tiny broom cupboard did well to amplify the sound in his ears, but even more obvious was the heavy and forced breathing of the boy in front of him, his breaths similar to those of a wounded or scared animal. James sat down in front of Regulus, doing his best to move slow and not make much noise as he did so. In the dim light, he held out his hands, offering them to the other boy. Regulus stared at them for a moment before hesitantly reaching his own up to grab them. Once he did so, James took a gentle grip on the pale and shaking hands of the younger, rubbing them with his thumb soothingly as he did so. Usually during his panic attacks- and especially flashbacks- Regulus despised being touched, finding it reminded him of the memories that often lead to them in the first place. Here, however, in the dark or the room with James Potter across from him, he found a kindness radiating deep into his bones. The warmth spread through his body as he sat, and Regulus began crying again. Between cries and gasps he muttered and rocked back and forth to try to soothe himself, all the while James sat with him, gently rubbing his hands and whispering hushes and praise to how well he was doing.
"Ne peux pas respirer", Regulus struggled out between his cries. "Je ne peux plus respirer..."
"Shh," James muttered back in an attempt to calm him, despite having no clue what the younger was saying. "It's alright, Regulus."
"Non, non, fais que ça s'arrête, s'il te plaît, fais que ça s'arrête!"
Regulus threw his head back, banging it against the wall with a loud thud. Quickly, James moved onto his knees and let go of one of Regulus' hands in order to reach behind the boy and put a hand between his head and the wall. He had seen many panic attacks and meltdowns before, between Peter's extreme anxiety and Remus' PTSD and panic disorder, and knew generally how to respond to them. Hell, he had even been there to help a few times when Remus' attacks had triggered him to have seizures. Still rubbing Regulus' hand as he cushioned his head, James spoke softly to him.
"It's okay, Reg. Can you take some deep breaths for me?"
Regulus shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as tears flooded his cheeks.
"Ne peux," he said shakily. "I-I can't, I can't breath...'
"Yes, you can dear." James spoke softly and squeezed Regulus' uninjured hand. "Just try to focus, okay?"
"I-I, I can't..."
James gently moved his hand from Regulus' head to lay it on his chest, feeling the shallow movement as the boy gasped.
"I'm right here, love. Can you try to breath in time with me?"
Regulus hesitated but nodded, taking harsh gasping breaths as he tried to keep it in time with the other boy's. Holding his breath for a moment, James signaled to exhale, and the boy did so, still struggling to find a rhythm. After a few moments, Regulus' breathing had evened out more, despite the shaking that still rattled his body. James smiled and grasped both of the black haired boys hands again, gently squeezing them before the younger hissed in pain. Dropping Regulus' left hand apologetically James reached for his wand.
"Lumos," the boy muttered under his breath, creating a warm light at the tip of his wand to be able to see in the dark closet. Gently bringing Regulus' hand up to see, he bit his lip and inspected it. He looked up at the boy and put his wand down, the light extinguishing.
"Could you make light while I look at this?"
Regulus nodded, pulling his wand out with a still shaking hand and wordlessly creating a cool blue light, even brighter than the warm orange that the boy in front of him conjured moments ago. Looking on in amazement, James smiled.
"How did you do that without speaking?" James stared, bewildered.
"Practice," Regulus responded, shrugging lightly. "Charms has always been my strong suit I suppose."
"Merlin, you're fantastic!" James exclaimed excitedly. "No wonder you're in a load of advanced classes."
Regulus flushed slightly at the praise, staring at the gash in his hand as James inspected it carefully.
"Well," James started with a small sigh, "doesn't look like there's any glass caught in it, still you may want to stop by Pomfrey for some bandages."
Regulus nodded, not making eye contact with the boy as he spoke. As James smiled to him and stood up to leave, the younger boy reached and grabbed his hand.
"Wait, James-" Regulus stopped himself, clearing his throat awkwardly and dropping the boy's hand. "Thank you. And I'm sorry for being a bit of an ass to you."
James looked at him with a confused expression.
"You've never been an arse to me, Reg." James leaned over gently, tucking a dark curl out of Regulus' face and behind his ear before grabbing and squeezing his uninjured hand again. "You're amazing."
They both stood and stared at each other or a moment, each lost in the other's presence. Sensing the tension building, James cleared his throat as he reddened, moving to open the door for them. The light swam into the closet, making them both squint from the change. Before James could walk away, Regulus spoke again.
"Really though, thank you."
James smiled kindly and waved at him.
"Any time, love."