Ever heard of a panic attack? What it does, what it means and what to do if it triggers your nerves?

Me, neither.

And I think I'm starting to have one. My perfectly well scheduled semester isn't in any way going as planned. And I guess I'm having a panic attack for that.

But another thing that's worrying me is, I don't know what's wrong with him. His trembling hand can't seem to find whatever he's looking for.

If you had asked me sometime back, I'd be happy that he was vulnerable. But the flickering of my eyes and dryness of my mouth tells me otherwise. I needed to do something.

Snatching the bag from him, I start searching for whatever the thing I've never seen before. Is it an injection? Or maybe some tablets?

My hand sifted through the various compartments, each zip a frantic drumbeat against my rising panic. Was it an injection? Needles weren't exactly my forte. But the tremor in his hand, the way his breath hitched... something was terribly wrong. Relief washed over me as my fingers brushed against a smooth, cylindrical object. An inhaler.

A simple explanation, yet a knot of worry remained in my stomach. What did he need an inhaler for? Asthma? Allergies? The questions swirled in my head but stopped the moment I straightened his upper body. Rubbing circles on his mid-back, he grips the inhaler breathing in hitches while slowly making a recovery.

"Should I call the schools nurse?" my question lenders quietly.

The vigorous shaking of his head warns me not to. But another question strikes, who in their normal senses would refuse to go to the nurses office?

"Fine, some water then?"

To that he nods slowly and that signals me to hand him over my bottle of water. Apparently, he's snatching alot of things from me lately.

He gulps down the water, leaning back to at least recover- I guess. The lecture buzzes in and silence takes over drawing all attention to the papers he was carrying.

My eyes dawn on Asante and as if our eyes were communicating he sends me a reassuring look. The papers assigned to us spread like fire as everyone engulfs them in their hand.

"So, what I need you to do is bring me one design. Draw the final piece of design on the plain paper assigned to you. Be serious as this will contribute 5 percent to your end of semester's exams."

The not-so silent class begins its work as I nervously think of starting it on my own. Or maybe-but no, he is not that okay to stretch his mind.

"W-hat do we need to design?" he asks.

Fear? Relief? What's it? The thumping of my chest is lendering me speechless.

"I think you should relax a little bit and pretend to be saying some sweet nothings while I work with it." I sound sweet, not like I had planned though.

"Thanks, but I think I'm better now. " He shyly says and my eyes roll automatically.

Without a response I begin analyzing the design and realize it's just a card. "It's a blank card. Maybe a letter,"

"Ummh, I think we can turn it into a birthday, wedding or memorial card... What do you think?"

"Wow, you're not that dumb after all." A smile crosses his lips after my sarcastic comment. It forces my muscles to contract, revealing a small smile. For the first time, I can spot a dimple pierced right on his left cheek.

Diverting my attention from him, I go through my bag bringing out a pack of colored pencils. "Wow, you always carry that with you?"

"I'm self reliant."

"mmhh," He hums as he watches me pluck out some pencil out of the pack.

"So what do you think we should put on the thing, whatever we are making?"

"How about a wedding card... We draw two hands holding each other then add some flowers-

"And some words across it." I finish off as if I had a better idea.

"Yes that." he chuckles at my sudden eargerness to say something.

"But I'm terrible at drawing figures or flowers... Atleast the words, I can magically write like a computer." I quitely say... Embarrassed at that. I'm a girl, I should draw flowers like the back of my hand.

"It's okay, I'm not good as well but I will try. I guess we have no choice."

Sliping the inhaler in his bag pack, he tightens his grip on the pencil. My heart sinks, watching him draw with such much difficulty. I'm forced to look away wiping a drop of tear that was lingering in my eye. He wasn't making this any simpler.

My gaze darted back to Asante. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but a faint tremor still lingered in his hand.

"That's so not good." I comment and he groans leaving the pencil on the table.

Asante surprised me. He picked up the pencil again, a determined glint in his eyes. "I may not be good at this, but I'm not giving up either." His words sparked a memory, a dusty corner of my childhood I rarely revisited.

The way his hand shook, reminded me of the little persistent hands I used to be. After witnessing the closing of my dad's small factory. The image of him smiling while in ruins runs me over. Was he just trying to be strong or was he just determinant?

My voice cracked, "Dad why are you not sad? How are we going to survive? They just took over our factory!"

"It doesn't mean they have cut off our hands and feet, does it? We'll rise again and stronger darling, " He answers reassuringly.

Now that I'm thinking of it, a wave of understanding washes over me. Asante wasn't just being stubborn; he was showing a strength I hadn't considered. Maybe true resilience wasn't about being emotionless, but about facing challenges head-on, even when you felt like giving up.

"I think I'm kind of done." He laughs. "You try this time around with your magical hands like a computer."

I laugh at the way he mimics my voice, "I'm 101% sure I don't sound like that."

"No, that's exactly how you sound and yes, Show us the beautiful handwriting ."

"Come on, bring it. Let me show you how to write in itallic."

His glittering eyes staring at my hand, nearly frails my fragile fingers. But still, my fingers go on with the flow. Anything to prove to him that my handwriting is better than his drawings.

"You have 10 minutes to go." The lecturer shouts and the pressure only hurries me up.

"Go Compu! Go Compu!" he hypes me up and I can't help it but laugh. "Stop it, you're making me nervous."

"What's wrong with me hyping your computer hands?" he asks in between laughs.

"I thought you were becoming less annoying but no I guess my insticts were wrong."A smirk displays on my lips and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"How's that any better than my drawings?" he peeps through.

"Come on, look at how-" I try to search for flaws but honestly his drawings were pretty much skillful, despite the condition he was in. "Forget that, what are the names of the ones getting wedded?"

"I don't know, why don't you just combine our names there and that reminds me... What's your name?"

Hey hey my sweets!

Yes yes another update!

What would you prefer? A drawing skill or writing skill?

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Thank you and byeee! ❤️