[ miles catch-all: one-way train to crazy town ]

[forwardmomentum]

Who: Miles & company
When: March...ish. all of March. there u go
Where: assorted locations, mostly on the Moira
What: Miles's no good very bad brains month
Warnings: general mental illness, trauma/PTSD, discussion of sexual assault



starters go below, post one if ya feel like it or let me know if I should write one

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[forwardmomentum]

He looks right at her, but he doesn't really see her -- he flinches automatically at the pinch to his leg, but he barely seems to register it otherwise, trembling bodily. He feels like he can't breathe, his face pale and beading with cold sweat. He seems to have forgotten where he is entirely -- or rather, he's remembering somewhere else far too much.

"Please," he croaks, but his voice his mounting in pitch, growing frantic. "I don't -- I don't want to die, not again -- "

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

J has to bite down on her tongue to prevent herself from screaming at him.

She wants to scream, cry, grab him by the shoulders, shake him and slap him. Anything to make him to snap out of this panic attack. But she's too afraid to do it, to lay her hand on him to hurt when he's already in so much pain.

"Shh," she hushes and scoots closer, reaching up so that their faces are met. So far, her attempts to bring him back to the present have been failures as all her begging and coaxing have gone to deaf ears.

"It's going to be okay, just don't think about that." Her voice is barely louder than a whisper as she speaks. And with that she moves forward and presses her lips against his, pushing his back against of the chair.

[forwardmomentum]

Whatever words she's making, they don't penetrate. It's all just garbled noise to him, distorted and out of tune and swept up in the dizzying rush of sense memory around him. He's shocked enough to go completely still for a moment, pressed back against the chair with her mouth on his, and then the panic kicks in again. Miles writhes, trying more to pull away than push her back, as if he could pass right through the chair and onto the floor. It's sheer blind confusion, no more words, just hysterics and hyperventilation.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

J doesn't let him to get away and follows him as he backs away, pushing him against the back of the chair. Keeping her mouth on his she continues to kiss him, only parting to their lips to let him catch some breath. "Shh shh," She continues to hush at him with a quiet and soft voice, slowly moving her hand on his up along his leg and rubbing it carefully as she brings her other hand to his cheek, caressing it soothingly.

"It's alright, I'm not letting anything hurt you," she whispers, swallowing her own tears of panic and leans in once again, closing the gap between their lips.

[forwardmomentum]

There's sensory input, but no real sense he can make of it, just an instinctive blind terror and a terrifying panic that makes his chest feel like it's going to explode or cave in at any moment, or maybe both -- he can't be sure. Miles's attempts at pulling back turn into earnest attempts at pushing J away, twisting his neck to break the kiss. He looks terrified and wild-eyed, the feet of the chair scraping against the floor as it threatens to tip back. His voice is raw and thick with tears.

"No, stop -- stop!"

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

"Okay, okay."

This time she doesn't chase him as he twists and pulls away and lets their cheap imitation of a kiss to be broken. The sound of his broken voice feels like stab of a knife that landed right on her heart. The awful, disorienting coldness overtakes her and once again she's completely at lost with what to do.

None of this was what she wanted. All she had tried and hoped was to take his mind off the whatever was causing him to be in such pain -- distract him into think and feel nicer things. That's how she had always dealt with her own panic attacks.

She doesn't take her hands off him but instead keep them still where she's placed them, one his leg and one on his cheek, both to keep him from falling from the chair and hoping that her touch could bring him at least some kind of comfort, so that he would know that she's there.

"It's okay now. See, I stopped? I won't do that again, okay?" She tries talking again, voice sounding more rushed and hurt after each word. "You didn't like it, right. What do you want? Whatever it is, I'll do it."