the ballad of an (un)diagnosed private investigator
In junior year, Riz is finally forced to face one of his worst enemies yet—an undiagnosed anxiety disorder threatening to compromise his grades, his relationships, and, most of all, his sanity.
ao3
chapter 1 | 2 | ?
Sklonda listens to the sound of Riz chopping fruit and veggies and not uttering a word.
It's eerie, but it's also not surprising considering his workload this year.
She's searching the fridge for something to add to the lunch when the sound of chopping stops.
She turns around and sees Riz standing at the chopping board, hands trembling.
"You okay, hon?" Sklonda asks, walking closer.
"I'm fine," he breathes out shakily, shutting his eyes.
She takes the knife out of his hand and puts it on the cutting board.
Riz's breathing is slightly shallow, and just as he's about to bring his hands up to wipe away his tears, Sklonda grabs them and guides him to the sink. "Wash your hands before you touch your face or your eyes are gonna start burning."
Riz nods and washes his hands with his eyes still shut and shakes his hands out rather than drying them with the towel.
He brings his palms to his eyes, letting his glasses drop to the counter, and his breathing gets louder and shallower.
"Sweetie, hey, what's going on?" Sklonda asks, squeezing his shoulders, despite having an inkling of an idea.
"Feel like 'm gonna pass out," he says breathlessly.
"Okay, it's okay, let's go sit down," Sklonda says softly, guiding him to the couch.
They sit down, and Riz brings his hands away from his face and presses them against his thighs, eyes still shut. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm—why I'm—I—"
Riz cuts himself off, hyperventilating now. "Mom—" he whines, bringing an arm up to wipe his eyes, and reaching out another arm for her.
Sklonda wraps him in a hug, carding her fingers through his hair with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. "It's okay, baby, it's okay."
"Can't breathe," he says with a whine, gasping for air and trembling violently in her embrace. "I can't breathe."
"Riz, honey," she pulls him away from her chest and tilts his head down—god, he's gotten tall—to face her. "Can you look at me, sweetie?"
He opens his eyes, wide, and yellow, and teary, and frightened.
Sklonda cups his cheeks in her hands. Hot, clammy palms cover the backs of her hands in an instant.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," she says, brushing hair out from his face. He crinkles his nose, shuts his eyes once more and lets out a sob, gasping for air even faster. "Hon, can you take a deep breath for me?" Sklonda asks, fighting back tears of her own.
Riz shakes his head. "I—I—I don'—don't know wha's happening," he forces out between gasps and sobs, digging his claws into her hands.
Sklonda can understand that sentiment, certainly. It's exactly how she felt during Riz's spring break of sophomore year, watching that livestream...
"You're having a panic attack, honey," she says. "It happens when the anxiety gets to be too much, you're not in danger, you're okay, my baby."
She leans forward and kisses him on the forehead, and he nods.
"Like—like Adaine," he says.
Sklonda knows about Adaine's anxiety. She's talked to Jawbone about it briefly, and expressed her own concerns about Riz, though Riz seems just as averse to talking to Jawbone about it as he is with her.
"Yeah, like you're friend Adaine. And she's okay, remember?"
Riz has never had an attack like this. Not to her memory. Sklonda has only known him to spiral in the same way as her, no chance of putting away the clues and going to bed, too wired up to think of anything else, constantly doing everything all at once until he crashes.
Junior year is putting a fucking toll on him.
She had already noticed the dark circles under his eyes getting more and more pronounced with each passing night, and the constant tremours, and the jumpiness, and now panic attacks...
Maybe it's her fault.
She told him he'd have to work harder this year.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
After a brief mental cursing, she steels herself and returns her mind to the situation at hand.
"'M gonna—'m gonna pass out," Riz stutters between gasps, burying his head in his hands again.
Sklonda lets a few tears fall, knowing he won't see them.
"Honey, I need you to breathe," she says, wrapping him in a hug again with his head rested on her shoulder. "I'm gonna do it with you, okay? You just have to try and follow along with me."
Riz continues to hyperventilate and sob, not acknowledging her.
"Riz?"
"Oka—okay, okay."
Sklonda runs a hand up his back as she breathes in, and runs a hand down his back as she breathes out.
She keeps doing that with him for what feels like might be an hour, and at the end of it, Riz is breathing slowly again.
"Riz, honey?" Sklonda says, rubbing his back.
He doesn't respond.
And so she pulls him off her shoulder adjusts him into a laying position on the couch, shoving a pillow under his head and draping a blanket over him.
She kisses him on the forehead once more, grabs her crystal off the coffee table and heads to the bedroom to make a call.
-
When Riz wakes up, it's dark outside. It's dark outside and his mom is sitting on the other side of the couch, texting somebody.
He checks the time, and then he sits up so fast the blood rushes to his head and almost knocks him out.
"Shit, I missed like, three club meetings today," he says, "how long was I out for?"
"As long as you needed, hon," she says, putting a hand on his leg.
Riz frowns, grabbing his glasses off the coffee table so he can read her expression better.
She's frowning too.
But it's a concerned frown.
"Did you sleep okay?"
"I—uh—guess. But my meetings—"
"Jawbone cleared up your absence with all the club leaders. No one's gonna make a fuss about you missing a meeting due to a medical emergency. Well, if they do then they're dicks. Are you hungry?"
Riz stares blankly at her.
"I... no—wait—" he stammers.
She said that so nonchalantly.
"What?" Riz blurts out.
"Are you hungry?"
"No—the... what medical emergency?"
She sighs, rubbing his leg through the blanket in a soothing motion. "You had a panic attack, remember?"
Riz cringes. "Yeah, but that's—that's not, like, so serious—wait, did you turn off my alarms?" he asks, pulling out his crystal and checking the clock app.
She did.
Wow.
"An anxiety disorder is a medical condition, Riz," she says, as if it answers anything. "It's serious."
Riz's blood runs cold.
"I don't have anxiety," he says, the words feeling dry and unfamiliar on his tongue. "I mean—I—I get anxious but I don't—I don't have a disorder, Mom. This was a one-off thing, okay?"
She sighs again, that sigh she always does when he tries to assuage her concerns. "I'm really worried about you, kid."
"Mom, I'm fine—"
"Why can't we have one conversation about this that doesn't end with you saying that?"
"Because it's true—"
"I don't like seeing my kid shaking and sobbing and telling me he can't breathe, and then acting like it didn't happen, Riz!" she snaps.
"I'm sorry, okay!?" he yells back, standing up. "But if you don't believe me that I'm fine, then I don't know what else to do. I'm going to my office."
Riz storms out the door and slams it behind him before she can respond, and if he hears sobs on the other side, he pretends he doesn't notice.
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