Chapter Text
Shiro sat on the edge of his bed, head cradled in his hands. He felt like he was suffocating despite his deep gasping breaths. Looking up and around his small, bare studio apartment his vision swam. He unsuccessfully tried to stop the rapid jiggling of his leg. The small room, that usually was his safe place, felt stale and stifling. He needed to get out. Go for a run and lose himself in the resulting endorphins.
Pound pound, his feet on the pavement. Pound Pound, the generic electronica on his earbuds. Pound pound, the blood rushing through his face. These beats did not entirely silence the negative rhythm in his head. “You’re scared. You’re weak. You’re damaged goods.” over and over again. He pushed harder and picked up speed. A few moments later is running trance was disrupted by a can of olives rolling across his path on the sidewalk. He stopped and plucked his headphones from his ears. He swooped down to capture the runaway olives, jogging over to the little old lady who had dropped them. She stood at the open trunk of her car. It was packed with grocery bags. One bag lay on the ground and was clearly the source of the rouge can.
Shiro flashed her his winning smile and asked, “May I help you with these ma'am?”
Her wrinkled face cracked into a beaming grin. “Thank you kind young man.”
Shiro loaded his arms up with paper sacks and followed her as she shuffled to her wide open front door. “Just set them on the counter dear.”
Shiro deposited his armload and returned the the car for the remaining bags. Balancing one on his hip to gently closed the trunk. After politely accepting the muffin she insisted on giving him he returned to the sidewalk. He did not resume his punishing workout, content to stroll leisurely home munching on the pastry. The genuine smile on her sweet, elderly face had been tonic to his nerves.
-
Shiro sat behind the front desk at his job. Trying to read a fitness magazine, but he was preoccupied—checking the clock every 2 minutes. Keith was already 5 minutes late. Keith was by far his favorite coworker at Garrison gym. However, his regular tardiness and general disregard of rules left Shiro anxious (more anxious) that his friend would be fired. Right on cue his boss, whom they secretly referred to as “the drill sergeant”, stormed out of his office and demanded, “Where is that insubordinate long haired pillok?”
“I’m not sure, sir. He has not responded to my text message. Fortunately, his first training appointment is not until noon.” Shiro responded.
Mr. Authoritarian was unimpressed. “I gave you a promotion so you can whip him into shape, not cover up for him.”
“I’m sorry sir. I will work on it.” Shiro called out to his retreating back. Roughly 10 minutes later Keith walked in, completely unashamed at his lateness.
Shiro’s voice was scolding but kind, “Come on man. You have to start showing up on time.”
“It’s no big deal. I would have been on time if I had an appointment first thing. It was only like 15 minutes and we are always dead this time of day.”
“That is what I tried to tell the boss, but he laid into me because it’s my job to keep you “in line.” So please just make an effort. I know how capable you are, you don’t apply yourself because you don’t feel challenged. You are talented and dedicated. You could own your own gym one day if you really work hard. Patience yields focus. Don’t let a bossy boss keep you from giving your all.”
“I guess,” Keith said scowling up through his bangs, “I’m doing it for you though. Not for Major Dickhead. Let the record show.”
-
Later that day Shiro sat in a plastic waiting room chair, the same fitness magazine closed on his lap. He had a thousand mile stare as he tried to come up with the best words to describe the panic attack this morning. Better verbalizing lead to better help, his pyciatrist had told him on several occasions. It was only 10 minutes until he would be in Dr. Banks’ office, so Shiro was trying to sort out his words now. Matt, who was Dr. Banks’ receptionist and lab tech, walked into the room and handed Shiro a soda.
“You can have this. The machine gave me two.” He said leaning casually against his desk.
“Thank you very much.” Shiro responded politely as he popped the tab.
“Have you had a chance to get out and enjoy this nice weather?” Matt asked idly.
“Oh yes! I went for a run this morning. It was lovely.”
“All you ever talk about is working out.” Matt chuckled.
“It IS my job you know.”
“I’d say you need a hobby and some friends.”
Shiro broke eye contact and fiddled with the edges of is magazine.
“Sorry. That came out way harsh,” Matt said quickly “I’m actually trying to ask you if have any plans for this coming Saturday.”
“I have nothing planned.” Shiro said with a hint of suspicion. “Why do you ask?”
“Saturday is my birthday. I am having a party at my place. Just hanging out, having a few drinks with friends & family. It would be cool if you came. I enjoy chatting with you every week. We should hang outside of this waiting room.”
Shiro blushed, “That is very kind of you. I wouldn’t want to intrude…”
“Not at all,” Matt laughed as he scribbled a time and address on a post-it note.