Clyde could see the shift in Micah before the panic even hit him fully. The flush in his cheek vanished. His lips parted, chest rising and falling too fast. Micah's breath had become ragged, uneven, gasping for air like a fish out of water. His eyes turned distant, glossy, unseeing, and wide with terror. Tears gathered at the corners, trailing silently down his pale cheeks.
Clyde felt his stomach drop. Micah was having another panic attack.
Clyde's body went rigid for half a second, then moved on instinct. His hand hovered near Micah's back, then hesitated. He clenched his fingers into a fist before reaching out. No… he had read about this. After last time, when Micah broke down in front of him, Clyde had read every article, every medical blog, every forum post on how to help someone during a panic attack. The advice was clear: No sudden movement, no overwhelming touch, not unless the person initiated it.
