Dawson stood in front of Wyatt’s crib while bouncing the baby, trying to distract himself. Octavia then came into the room and closed the door behind her. Dawson looked up and asked, “Is Felix ok?”
“He’s fine right now, he said he would just take a nap.”
“Good, 'cause I didn’t know what to do. I never seen a panic attack like that-” Dawson started.
“That wasn’t just a panic attack, that was PTSD Dawson! And I wonder what caused it to show itself?” Octavia lowered her brows, frustrated.
Dawson sat Wyatt back in his crib and shrugged his shoulders lightly. Octavia glared at Dawson silently. Dawson let out a huff and admitted, “All I did was hit the bed.”
“Maybe, to you, it wasn’t a big deal, but that scared Felix! You still don’t have any control over your anger… and you need to, at least while Felix is here. Maybe, I should call Dr. Thrush again…”
“No! I don’t need that stupid fuckin’ therapist anymore!” Dawson fumed. “He’s an idiot and doesn’t understand me! It’s not like I scared Felix on purpose!”
“Look, you’re yelling right now! This is just proving my point!” Octavia retorted back.
“I’m not even angry! You’re just annoying me!” Dawson hissed.
“Your face is literally red, you're angry-” Octavia announced.
A whine erupted loudly, cutting Octavia and Dawson’s fight short. They looked down to where the sound came from, seeing a teary-eyed Wyatt staring back at them. He somehow could sense the animosity between them, with a pout, he quietly whined again. Octavia let out a heavy sigh, “I won’t call today… but if another thing like this happens again, I will. I can’t have you giving Felix constant panic attacks.”
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“It won’t.” Dawson gritted his teeth.
Octavia hummed quietly, nodding her head, and walked out of the room. Dawson heard the soft footsteps fading down the stairs right outside the room. Dawson crossed his hands over his chest, hearing quiet babbles from behind him.
“You’d make him feel better. Come on.” Dawson spoke, picking up Wyatt again, “Be cute and work some magic.”
Dawson walked over to the room next to the baby’s, seeing Felix wrapped up in his blanket, facing the wall. Dawson sat on the edge of the bed and laid Wyatt next to Felix’s face. The baby's small arms flailed loosely, bopping Felix in the face, shaking him awake.
“Wha- huh?” Felix asked, groggily, “Wyatt…?”
“Hey, you ok?” Dawson asked.
He watched as Felix sat up and picked up Wyatt to put him on his lap.
“Sorry… about that… I don’t really know what happened.” Felix swallowed hard.
“I’m the one who should apologize, I mean, I… scared you.” Dawson's tongue dried up as it finally clicked in his brain what he did, “So, I’m sorry.”
“No, you had every right to be upset at me.” Felix lowered his head, letting Wyatt grab his finger.
“I wasn’t upset!” Dawson started, before realizing he was raising his voice, “I wasn’t upset… I just, I don’t know. A couple of years ago, they wanted to diagnose me with anger issues, or whatever. But my dad just didn’t want me to have something wrong with my… brain, ya know? So, we didn’t take the diagnosis…”
Felix stared silently at Dawson inquisitively, waiting for more. Dawson’s shoulders tensed up and a warm flush spread across his face to his ears.
“S-stop staring! I just told you some personal shit, a response would be nice!” Dawson responded awkwardly.
“I-uh… don’t know what to say… Why not get diagnosed now? Since your father’s not here?” Felix questioned.
Dawson’s eyes flickered between Felix and Wyatt and decided to ignore the question.
“What were we talking about before?”