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"Hey, no, don't apologize," Oz urged, and Briton continued to avoid his gaze, keeping his face shrouded by his own hands while shutting his eyes tightly. He had only made the mistake once of glancing to his friend, for a mere moment after Oz had said the statement, and having noticed the other boy's placement on the ground in front of him, trying his best to catch his eyes. The look Oz was giving him made his guts wrench and twist, making him feel just that little more sick with guilt. Oz was just a nice guy. He cared about all his friends, so of course he was quick to jump to help the one who needed him. He'd have done it if one of his other friends were feeling unwell, too, and the thought alone was enough to dig deep inside of Briton's stomach and bring back bitter feelings about himself and this... this obsession. Just because he couldn't be Oz's priority all of the time, just because he was nothing special, just because he was absolutely fucking selfish. And yet being Oz's priority right now didn't matter. Getting his attention like this wasn't how he wanted it. He didn't want to be the damsel in distress, and yet... was that the only way to get anyone to pay any attention at all?
"Don't apologize for that, ever. I wanted to help you, okay? I mean, I'm obviously not regretting it, so there's nothing to be sorry for. You're one of my best friends, I'd do anything for you. And, hey," Briton's eyes widened and he couldn't help but stare helplessly into the other boy's eyes while he spoke, holding onto one of his hands in order to grab his attention and hold it there. He was so close, now, leaning towards Briton intensely. "This is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, but this really isn't. You didn't tell anyone to bully you and you didn't tell anyone to get into fights either. It's not your fault." Oz continued, and he gave a small smile, one that was just sweet enough, just caring and concerned enough, to make Briton feel like he was melting. "Besides, I'd rather be here than there. That party sucked, but don't tell Lacey that I said that."
Briton sighed, simply closing his eyes to avoid the look Oz was giving him while he gave a small nod, biting his lip. There was nothing he could do much more, the way Oz stayed so close, hanging right in the place where Briton's downcast gaze would have gone as well. Averting his eyes to another place was too difficult, with Oz right in front of him. He simply stayed quiet for a moment, trying his best not to think about how wrong the other boy was, how close the other boy was, or likewise, the sensation in his hand, completely enveloped in Oz's own gentle hand. He felt like his cheeks were hot, as if the situation wasn't difficult to deal with as it was. After a moment of sheer hesitation, knowing very well the reason for his hesitation in the first place, he plucked his hand away from Oz's, settling it down against his own stomach instead, which still felt awful. Finally opening his eyes again, he turned his head completely away from Oz, putting up his free hand to his face once more to shield his probably reddened cheeks from the view of his friend.
"Sorry," He finally said, though he instantly regretted the apology, seeing as it was, more or less, an apology for apologizing. He shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat uncomfortably. "It's just that... I never had to say anything about it at all. I could have stayed quiet and the point is they couldn't have done anything to make me tell them." His voice was soft, a little bit strained. He hardly even wanted to think about it. What would the night have been like if he'd just kept his trap shut like he would have on any normal damn day? Nate wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Violet wouldn't have gone with Vic and Ryan... He wouldn't have had to go to the party and he wouldn't have had an asthma attack. "If they didn't even know, then... then we wouldn't have any problems right now."
The last part of the sentence seemed to almost come out in a whine, Briton squeezing his eyes shut and letting the hand which had previously been hiding his blush clamp over his own mouth instead, as if it could hold back completely the tears he had been fighting so hard against all day. Why did opening up about something have to end in worrying about his friends' stupidity? About their ideas of "protecting" him. Most of all, why did he have to worry so much about their damn safety? They couldn't keep themselves out of danger when it came to that kind of thing. It was like the worst thing to do was suddenly the right thing in their minds. Did they really think they were helping at all? Briton turned back to Oz suddenly, slipping down from the edge of the bed where he sat and collapsing against the other boy, wrapping his arms around him and letting his face bury into Oz's shirt while the emotions suddenly spilled over, choking him and blurring his vision. Today was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even care that he was now guilty for making poor Oz's shirt wet with tears.
His body shook in quivers and sobs, unable to stop them any longer. He should have known there would be tears today, his earlier emotional outbursts only coming in little shocks of shouting and panicking. The tears were bound to come eventually when he couldn't take it anymore. Normally he was good, normally he could hold it back, leave it alone, but it seemed that no one else shared his preference of leaving it alone. Every single occurrence seemed to pull at each previous event, forcing him to pay attention to all the continuous bad luck he was having. Forced, mocking lips pressed against his, flesh scraped on pavement, an interrogation from his friend and everyone's attention all at the same time, an awful party, Nathan fighting, Violet leaving to fight, and an asthma attack. He felt humiliated and degraded and... It was as if he didn't have a say in what was happening around him at all anymore. The only control he'd ever held over his friends was by withholding information from them. And Oz... Well, surely Oz would never have raised a hand against anyone unless it was deemed absolutely necessary and he'd gotten the okay from Briton, but Oz was a talker. And even that in itself was a problem. He thought that he could fix things with words, and even if that didn't cause anyone any immediate danger, Briton couldn't be sure about anyone in earshot of Oz's words. Information was too dangerous for reckless people, and Briton wasn't so sure about taking any chances.
"Today's just been fucking shit," Briton whined, finally able to get any words out at all, though they remained slightly muffled from Briton's positioning. "You guys don't even know what Vic's been doing and now he probably thinks that I actually did tell and... and I don't know what he's gonna do." He took in a sharp breath before trying to continue, careful to leave out bigger details for his own sake. "And Violet went off on some speech about how she was a vigilante or some shit before she left the party with Vic and Ryan and god knows what trouble she's getting herself into..."
As if on cue, Briton could feel his phone vibrating, and though, in any other given situation, he probably would have ignored it, given the circumstances he was fearing the worst. He leaned away from Oz, wiping at his own face with one hand to try and clear the crying to his face while he found his own place sitting on the cramped floor, pulling his phone from his back pocket to check what it was. The screen was difficult to focus on, and the brightness of it alone was enough to hit at the headache he still maintained. He almost made a reach for his reading glasses, which, though they were often in their small case in his pocket, were inconveniently in his backpack, which he remembered had been thrown into the backseat of his car a while back, only to be forgotten about. Squinting instead and deciding to merely just strain his eyes, he finally noticed what the alert was; Charlie had texted him about Violet.
Briton found himself shaking again, locking his phone and putting it down on the ground slowly while he rubbed firmly at his eyes, biting his lip. "Damnit," he muttered, words even showing signs of his shaking. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." He inhaled sharply, putting both of his over his eyes firmly. "That's just icing on the cake, isn't it? As if today wasn't bad enough."
He clenched his jaw, dropping his hands down and simply sat there for a moment, staring down absently at a cluster of wires on the ground before standing up, using Oz's shoulders as a support to get himself up off of the ground. His chest was feeling tight and empty, not quite as bad as how it had been earlier, but he could feel his panic settling into his lungs again, and quietly weaved around Oz to take his inhaler from the top of the dresser and, after as much of an exhale as he could manage, put it to his lips and took a deep breath, before setting it back down again.
"I just feel so fucking helpless," Briton finally uttered when he had the air to speak clearly again. He made the short journey back over to where Oz was on the floor, plopping down on the ground directly next to him and pulling his own legs in close, his knees almost to his chin, while he pulled at the bandaging that was beginning to become loose after all the movement. "I'm so tired of everyone seeing me as this damn damsel in distress and thinking they have to save me. It's like... I'm below you guys or something. I'm just helpless and weak and i need to be protected. And that fucking sucks, by the way, but then someone goes and does something stupid and gets themselves hurt and they think that's going to help me in some way?"
He let his body slump over, then, his body leaning over to connect against Oz's again and staying right up against him indulgently. He supposed that as long as he could get away with it, it wasn't hurting anybody. "I just... I just don't want anyone else to get hurt for my sake. It didn't matter if it was just me, 'cause it wasn't so bad. I could handle it and I didn't care that much."
Briton bit his lip a moment, before picking his head up from where it had been pressed up against his friend, attempting to give Oz a pleading look right in the eyes. "And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton begged, his voice somewhat small and clearly a bit hesitant. "Please. I know it's like a serious thing and stuff, but I mean, do you really think if you went around telling all our friends that they're gonna keep it quiet? They'll probably start using it like some kind of excuse for me." He sighed, dropping his head back down where it had been against the other boy. "I can just imagine Nate going up to someone and saying something stupid like that they can't beat me up because I have asthma... I guess I just don't want everyone to treat me like i'm even weaker than I already am."
He rubbed the corner of his eye with one hand, feeling so drained from the day at large, and tired of everything. He was tired of these fights and these events. Hell, he was even tired of himself, he supposed. "I guess that's kind of dumb and selfish," Briton continued. "But that fact isn't really changing my mind on the matter either, so whatever."