Elijah was grateful to be alone and almost slept himself. He was worried though after what had happened. Would Anthony wake up and still be in his same state? He had been drugged to be fair. He rung his hands together and paced for a while. His eyes sometimes remained trained on the door, wondering if he should check on him. 

His life was getting far more complicated and difficult than it had already been, and that was saying something. He tidied up his home, brushed Diane, anything to try to distract himself. When hours had passed, he even had fallen asleep on the sofa still sitting up. It hadn't been a long sleep and his back protested a little from his position when he woke and rose.

While not being a doctor, Elijah was concerned it had been too long with no signs of life. He carefully opened the door and crept towards the bed. He leaned down and was afraid to touch him and upset him, but wasn't sure what to do. He hugged himself to resist touching him and spoke softly. 

"Anthony? Anthony..."

Anthony had awoken some hours after the whole affair. He was absolutely miserable—his chest and throat hurt from all the hyperventilating and coughing, he was still a bit drowsy from the drugs, and it was rather quickly that memories of what had happened came rushing back. It was pathetic and idiotic of him, really, to allow himself to be in such a state in front of strangers.

Despite his now miserable existence and unending self-blaming, Anthony was probably still better off than he was before awakening, though—most notably, he was no longer having a panic attack and crying like that, and was for the most part lucid enough to realize that he's in a safe place and not in any real danger. Anthony tried to fall asleep again, but failed pathetically, resigning himself to just laying there with his eyes closed in a mock-sleep. He found it more difficult than usual to form coherent thoughts—the most certain thing in his mind right now was the fear of how Elijah would react to this. It must've been so uncomfortable for him.

Anthony shifted a bit as he heard Elijah enter and speak softly. He opened his eyes, but didn't turn to face Elijah. He was, admittedly, still frightened. "...Elijah."

There was an audible sigh as the other man relaxed and put a hand to his chest. "Oh you recognize me, thank goodness." He wasn't completely convinced everything was alright though. He stepped only slightly closer.

"How do you feel? Do you.. um.. What was the last thing you remembered?" He wondered if he should get him some water, but he wanted to check up on him first and make sure he was alright. "You gave me.. quite the scare. "

Anthony sat up in the bed, turning to face Elijah—he didn't seem pissed, so that was good at least, but Anthony wasn't entirely convinced. He avoided eye contact, or even looking at Elijah out of...guilt? Embarrasment? Though he couldn't give a name to the feeling, it wasn't exactly a good one.

"I'm sorry," he said. He shouldn't have freaked out like he did, then. It must have been so incredibly uncomfortable and terrifying for Elijah. "I feel.....not good. And I remember...getting injected with some....thing." His mind was foggy enough that he couldn't remember details, but he still remembered and took into account that Elijah disliked him swearing, and as such avoided cursing. Priorities.

"Why are you sorry? Whatever happened wasn't something you had control over, clearly. You acted so terrified, and I do not know what happened. I was worried and didn't know how to reach you. You couldn't breathe and you were crying to coughing fits.' He made a mental note to get the doctor to look at that cough while he was at it. "Rose got the doctor who gave you a tranquilizer, so you could rest. It seems to have helped whatever happened to pass."

He frowned as it was hard to find a way to speak about it. "Um.. has that.. ever happen before?"

Talking or even hearing someone talk about his panic attacks and him being triggered was definitely something he didn't like, at all. Anthony looked at his hands as he fidgeted with them, picking and scratching at the bandage on one of his hands. Though he was, at first, confused by the mention of someone named Rose and fetching a doctor, he could put two and two together. Ah. So that was it.

"I....yes. A couple of times," he admitted rather sheepishly. It wasn't necessarily often that he was triggered by something or had panic attacks in general, but it was definitely more than 'a couple of times'. However, he was embarrased enough by even having one this one time, and he didn't want to appear even more pathetic and unstable by confessing to freaking out like this even more often.

Elijah nodded and sat on the end of the bed, but careful to make sure that Anthony had plenty of room. "I am so very sorry, it must be terrifying for you too. If you know anything that I can do to help you in those times, don't hesitate. I hope it doesn't happen again, but since it wasn't a one time thing, I know it might."

He looked at him in concern. "I am just glad you're not hurt and you're alright now. Would you like some breakfast or something to drink? You've been asleep for a while."

Anthony wasn't used to anyone being so understanding and kind about this, and honestly, it scared him. He didn't know what to do or say in response to this and that was frightening. Anthony just nodded, grateful about the fact that Elijah wasn't (or, at least, didn't seem) mad about any of this.

"How long?" he asked, dodging the question. Your perception of time is pretty fucked when you're drugged and asleep, and besides wanting to talk of anything except his constant panicking, he was also curious.

He stared at a corner of the room as it seemed he was unsure what to say. Were other relationships like this? It was hard and draining to try to just get him to speak but at the same time knowing he couldn't push it. "Ah.." he checked his pocket watch. "Roughly six hours. Do you need more sleep? I can leave you alone and let you rest longer, I just.. wanted to make sure you were alright.'

That long? Christ. This was probably the (or one of the) longest sleep Anthony's had in months, then. "No, don't—don't leave," he said in a small voice. He wouldn't be able to fall asleep again anyways, and he really, really did not want to be alone right now. "and...I'm. Yeah, I'm alright." That was debatable, of course, but he was certainly more alright than he had been before.

"...Is there any water here?" Of course there is, you moron, he immediately told himself. But he didn't correct his sentence to be more 'right', either.