Washed up

With every minute that passed by, the nausea got worse. He felt sick to his stomach. His breathing was a bit irregular. It was not a full on panic attack.. Yet. If anything, he had to avoid breaking down even more. The walls of the room were closing in on him. He had to get out of here, and as soon as possible, preferably. His little trick to keep himself grounded was quickly shut down. Luckily her hand around his wrist helped as well. She was like an anchor, keeping him from floating away in his anxiety again. He hated that he had to rely on her for it, but he gladly let it happen.

When he got up, it took him a second to find his balance. He took a deep breath. While still avoiding to look at her, he pulled his arm free from her grip, but softly grabbed her hand instead. Carefully he made his way towards the showers again, now too uncomfortably aware of the foam clinging at his skin. He let go of her hand as soon as they arrived, pressing the button of the nearest one. The water coming out of it was clean and hot, yet the boy couldn’t help but shiver when it hit his shoulders.

Soon enough, almost all the foam was gone. As if someone was controlling him, he walked over to grab a big, white towel. He started drying himself off, after which he fetched his clothes. He wrapped it around his waist and took off his now soaked underwear, before throwing it in one of the trash cans. He would go back to his dorm right after anyway, so he could do without for until he could take a fresh pair out of the closet. Still automatically moving, he got dressed and folded the towel over the drying rack. Then he looked over to his sister, to see if she was ready to go as well.