Too Stubborn To Die

Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag:

"I don't know, Val," Gatz spoke softly, wiping more sweat from his brow, "if that Sith hadn't turned into a Rakghoul, I'd be dead in the undercity of Taris. I got lucky. One day I won't. And I mean, it's not like there's anyone in my life left to mourn me, but I'd still prefer to live."
Wow. That was a depressing thought. And, somehow, it was the first time it had crossed his mind. It was true though: with Klein gone, he had no one left. When he died... there wouldn't be anyone to bury him. No one to organize the funeral—hell, there wouldn't be anyone to actually attend the funeral. There was no one left to miss him.
Gatz was glad that Valery had let him cry on her shoulder earlier. If she hadn't, that thought might have broken him. As it was though, his burdens had been lightened just enough for him to carry this new weight. So with a sigh, Gatz shook his head, and moved onto the actual problem.
"I, uh, oh man where do I start," Gatz let out a long breath, which turned into short rapid ones. Suddenly, it felt like there wasn't enough air in the... uh, air. He felt lightheaded. He felt panicked. Yet, Gatz couldn't put a finger on why. Damn New Cov air. Must have been the planet's fault.
All he knew was that he was anxious and afraid of the words that were about to leave his mouth.
"I—" Nope, didn't work. So Gatz swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried again, "

Each sentence was separated by a gasp of air. And each sentence became more flurried and rushed than the last. He still couldn't seem to take in enough oxygen, but he didn't really care about the very real threat of suffocating.
What was Valery going to think, knowing that her star pupil was brain-glued to scum like him? He still remembered what she'd accused him of, with Capris. Was this going to be worse? Was this it? Would she hate him? Would she abandon—
The edges of his vision went black, his mind fraying as his lungs wheezed for air. Gatz staggered down to one knee. Was he dying? It felt like dying. What was wrong with him? Was Valery doing this to him? As punishment?
You're having a panic attack.
Funny. That sounded like Briana, but it was his own thought. At least, he was pretty sure. It was hard to tell, with a mind addled by a lack of oxygen. Honestly, it didn't matter—these days his more logical thoughts came in the tones her voice anyways.
What mattered was Valery's response to his admission. And also that he couldn't breathe.