Work Text:
Buck was pacing the short space near the couch in his loft. He couldn’t stand this feeling, like every nerve was on fire. It hurt more than being struck by lightning. Buck felt the tingling in his hands begin to climb up his arms, reaching for his neck, and he sat on the couch to keep himself from passing out. He needed to get back to work. He shouldn’t have lied about an illness. He realized he was hyperventilating. Tommytommytommy was every thought in Buck’s being.
Vaguely, Buck heard a knock at the door. He couldn’t get up or he would surely faint.
‘It’s open!’ he called with the last of his oxygen, buckling over onto the couch.