[ that is the worst part about it, isn't it? that jaskier had simply come to get red, that it should have been an easy enough arrangement - that red would have gone to help look, that geralt isn't gone just that something happened to him, how this is not abnormal and how something's happened and how things will be fine. they will be. objectively, sam knows this - or, rather, a part of sam knows this. an objective part knows this.
his mind scrolls - waking up to empty rooms, hurried searches through the streets, having to tell alina, missed meetings in the horizon. the heavy feeling of loss, of a sudden emptiness, of a drop in his gut that tells him there's no reason to keep searching, not really. not when they're gone.
( it can't be all that different from the snap, can it? one moment they were here, the next they weren't. bodies, lives, memories, wants and needs, gone in an instant. sam wasn't there to pick up the pieces, maybe, but he saw the aftermath. the stuttered way everyone tried to get back into step.
but what if they never come back? what if none of them go back? what if this was it? )
it's roach, alone. sam wasn't even there but knew that wasn't good. couldn't be good. wherever it was geralt had gone, it had not been by choice.
something curls around his chest, constricting. it makes it hard to breathe, even as sam tells himself he has to. even as he forces the air into his lungs. you're panicking a voice inside his head says. you're having a panick attack, and jaskier did not ask for this. sam doesn't fight it when jaskier reaches out for him, walks with him to the couch when he's led.
( five years. five years. he was gone for five years in the blink of an eye. how many blinks has it been? ) ]
You're right. 'm sorry. You need...you should. Go find him. [ he's not entirely sure what it is he's saying, his mouth looking to fill the space, to make it seem like this conversation is still moving, and it's not just. his falling apart. because it's been years since he last had a panic attack, years since he's been in this moment, this space. he's gone, he can't be gone. it'd been a different him, all those years ago, but the feeling is all the same. when he's through all of this, he's going to feel more embarrassed about it than anything, but for now all he can do is keep his chest from exploding, the beating of his heart fast, and erratic.
red mirrors jaskier's concern, walking back and forth a few paces on the back of the couch, uncertain, anxious. distantly, sam wonders if birds have the same sort of empathic bonds as dogs sometimes did, if sam's own panic could possibly set him off... nevermind that he is magic. nevermind the obvious connection to jaskier.
it's only when jaskier's hands make it to sam's neck to turn him that he realizes he'd been holding his eyes closed. only when his face is held there, just for a moment, that he lets them open again. jaskier is looking back at him when his eyes focus, browns knit and eyes bright. sam nods at first, and then exhales, suddenly, before he inhales again soon after, trying to slow his breath and finally feeling like he can get control of it again. when he takes another couple of successful, steady breaths he lets his eyes close again, his head falling forward and falling gently to jaskier's shoulder.
breath, breath, breath. on second, two, and then a third. his hand, shaking only slightly, reaches for jaskier's wrist. squeezes once - in apology, again, but also in thanks, while he lets his heart rate settle. ]
no subject
his mind scrolls - waking up to empty rooms, hurried searches through the streets, having to tell alina, missed meetings in the horizon. the heavy feeling of loss, of a sudden emptiness, of a drop in his gut that tells him there's no reason to keep searching, not really. not when they're gone.
( it can't be all that different from the snap, can it? one moment they were here, the next they weren't. bodies, lives, memories, wants and needs, gone in an instant. sam wasn't there to pick up the pieces, maybe, but he saw the aftermath. the stuttered way everyone tried to get back into step.
but what if they never come back? what if none of them go back? what if this was it? )
it's roach, alone. sam wasn't even there but knew that wasn't good. couldn't be good. wherever it was geralt had gone, it had not been by choice.
something curls around his chest, constricting. it makes it hard to breathe, even as sam tells himself he has to. even as he forces the air into his lungs. you're panicking a voice inside his head says. you're having a panick attack, and jaskier did not ask for this. sam doesn't fight it when jaskier reaches out for him, walks with him to the couch when he's led.
( five years. five years. he was gone for five years in the blink of an eye. how many blinks has it been? ) ]
You're right. 'm sorry. You need...you should. Go find him. [ he's not entirely sure what it is he's saying, his mouth looking to fill the space, to make it seem like this conversation is still moving, and it's not just. his falling apart. because it's been years since he last had a panic attack, years since he's been in this moment, this space. he's gone, he can't be gone. it'd been a different him, all those years ago, but the feeling is all the same. when he's through all of this, he's going to feel more embarrassed about it than anything, but for now all he can do is keep his chest from exploding, the beating of his heart fast, and erratic.
red mirrors jaskier's concern, walking back and forth a few paces on the back of the couch, uncertain, anxious. distantly, sam wonders if birds have the same sort of empathic bonds as dogs sometimes did, if sam's own panic could possibly set him off... nevermind that he is magic. nevermind the obvious connection to jaskier.
it's only when jaskier's hands make it to sam's neck to turn him that he realizes he'd been holding his eyes closed. only when his face is held there, just for a moment, that he lets them open again. jaskier is looking back at him when his eyes focus, browns knit and eyes bright. sam nods at first, and then exhales, suddenly, before he inhales again soon after, trying to slow his breath and finally feeling like he can get control of it again. when he takes another couple of successful, steady breaths he lets his eyes close again, his head falling forward and falling gently to jaskier's shoulder.
breath, breath, breath. on second, two, and then a third. his hand, shaking only slightly, reaches for jaskier's wrist. squeezes once - in apology, again, but also in thanks, while he lets his heart rate settle. ]