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He was never a loud person. Not as a child, not as a teenager, and certainly not now as an adult. He was hiding outside, crouching, grasping his chest and trying to breathe. His vision was tunneled and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
He tried to rationalize with himself. He was an adult, he was a soldier, he was strong. (“God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.” His father used to tell him. “You’re strong, right Audrey?”) He shouldn’t be having some meltdown like he was 12 again.
He doesn’t hear her open the door, or hear her walk in front of him, but by the time he realizes she’s there he doesn’t have the strength to even lash out. He’s exhausted, his vision is going black, and he’s heaving like he just ran a marathon. He knows she’s talking, but he can’t make out what she’s saying.
He jumps when he feels a hand on his chest, trying to gently release his hand from where it’s in a death grip on his chest. It’ll bruise he thinks, a little hysterically. He lets go, but immediately grabs his arm just as tight. He feels her push him back against the wall, so he sits down instead of crouching. He pulls his knees to his chest and ducks his head into his legs. He can tell she’s still in front of him, but he can’t worry about that right now. He knows she’s safe, even if he doesn’t know who she is.
She puts one hand on the back of his neck, and it’s freezing (it burns) but it's enough that he gasps in a breath, his vision clearing slightly at the oxygen entering his lungs.
“C’mon Audrey, breathe damnit. I’m not dragging your ass to our room if you pass out.” Aiko, his mind finally supplies. His wife. He needs to get himself under control, he can’t act like this in front of her. He holds his breath, trying to get control, but all it does is make him choke.
He coughs out a sob, and feels Aiko pat his back. He threads his hands into his hair, and grips, trying to knock himself out of his tantrum. He hears her suck in a sharp breath, and tries to get him to let go of his hair, but he just shakes his head.
“Audrey. Let go. You’re gonna rip out all that pretty hair of yours. You know I only married you for that.” He knows that she’s trying to cheer him up. Trying to make a joke. That he’s making her uncomfortable. That he’s a burden to her. He forces himself to his feet, even though all he wants to do is curl up in a ball and hide. He stumbles forwards, trying to get on the path leading towards the woods. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he knows that he needs to get away so he can control himself again.
“Audrey?! What the hell are you doing?!” He hears her shout, but he keeps moving, almost tripping over his own boots. His vision is going black around the edges, and his throat feels like there’s glass in it. His knees give out about a hundred yards from where he started and he falls to his knees. He hears her rush to walk up beside him again.
“You fucking dumbass, you need to stop.” He shakes his head hard enough that he makes himself dizzy and coughs again.
“N-no.” He stutters out. “I need…I need to be strong. I need to-“ He grabs onto his chest again. He can’t breathe. He feels like he’s going to die. He can barely make out her confused and concerned face from the black clouding his vision, but it’s enough that he can see her brows furrowing.
“You don’t need to be strong.” She says firmly, and he can feel something crack inside of him. He believes her. Always. But she can’t be right about this.
“No, you-“ He heaves in a breath “You dinnae understand.” He sees her shake her head and make a confused noise. “I have to be strong, be-because if I wasnae strong then why.”
“Why what?” She asks. He doesn’t want to explain this. Explain his failures to her. But it’s her so he does it anyway.
“Why would He do this to me.” He shutters. He hates questioning his Lord and His plan. He sees her face scrunch up in confusion, and it almost makes him laugh. It’s a minute of silence, the only sounds being his choked off sobs and the wind before her face gets a look of understanding. It’s only there for a moment before she furrows her brow again and bites her lip. He knows she wants to say something about it. Probably something sacrilegious.
Instead, she pulls him to her chest, and he’s too weak to fight it. He whimpers quietly in the back of his throat at the contact. It burns on his skin, but then it evens out to a welcome warmth. She takes a deep breath, and keeps making them obvious until his body finally gets the memo to copy her.
Slowly, his vision clears, and he’s able to breathe with just a few hiccups here and there. He relaxes into her arms. He’s never been more embarrassed in his life, but he knows if he said anything about it, she’d call him an idiot, so he does what he does best and stays silent.
He has the urge to get up and run. To hide until she forgets (she won’t, and he knows that.) His eyelids are drooping, and he somehow feels more exhausted now than when he came back from a 72 hour op with no sleep. He thinks she says something, but he’s too far in the haze of sleep to do anything more than just hum.
He wakes up slightly when he feels her get up, lifting him with her. He grabs onto her slightly, and drifts back off. He thinks he hears her stop to talk to John, but he doesn’t stay awake long enough to know why. The last time he wakes up is when she sets him on their bed. She goes to step away, but he grabs her wrist and grunts softly. He hears her laugh quietly.
“I’ll be right back, idiot. Go to sleep.” He nods, and then he’s out.