He’s holding onto your hand so tight; so, so tight. It hurts a hell of a lot but you don’t want him to loosen up for even a second. If you thought he was going to let go for a moment you wouldn’t be able to take it. You know he won’t, but there’s still that dread of being separated, of losing him. And then you’d be alone, here, in the dark.
Even as you shudder at the mere notion, you can’t help but feel a thrill of strange and exhilarating excitement, originating from the feel of your hands clasped, drenched in mingling fearsweat. The slip of your wet skin and the tightening to compensate is almost obscene, bizarrely comforting in this terrible pitch black.
“Did you hear that?” he whispers, and the hairs on the back of your neck raise as an electrical tingling sensation spreads from the area. Part of it is Dave’s breath ghosting across your skin, and part of it was the fact that no, you didn’t hear it. You’d been thinking about your hands touching, linked so closely as to become one. You’d let yourself get distracted. And that’s when it strikes, when you’re guard is down, you can’t believe you let-
The sound comes from your right, you think, a low and unearthly rumble. You suck in a breath so sharp it threatens to become a scream, but Dave’s hand is over your mouth before it can give you away.
“Shh!” he hisses, right in your ear this time. You nod, but his hands stays where it is over your mouth. It’s trembling ever so slightly. You have something to say so you lick along the headline of the salty palm, an old trick from when you were younger. He doesn’t spout out a disgusted protest like he used to, just removes his hand.
You press in, lips almost against the shell of his ear. You’ve never felt like this before, and it’s almost as terrifying as what’s lurking in the dark.
“It’s behind us. I think it’s busy...” you gulp, just like in one of those shitty cartoons. “Eating.” You don’t know how you know this, but you do. You can feel his head moving next to your mouth, nodding in understanding.
You don’t need anymore discussion. You both know what to do but he takes the lead, pulling you along, your feet quietly shuffling along the floor. You can’t see his other arm but you know it’s outstretched into the oblivion, away from the safety and knowledge of your body clinging to his, searching for the wall.
There’s another growl and you both freeze, but not before you catch up the few inches between you and press your chest against his back. You listen, trying not to get distracted again, by the sound of his shallow breath, the pulse you can feel thrumming against your own.
The silence goes on forever. Ponderous and heavy as you strain your ears for any signs of anything.
There’s a sickening crack echoing through the void. Bone. A ribcage. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and give your whimpered woes to his shoulder instead of the blackness.
“Just a few more feet,” he murmurs, and starts off again. You think maybe he can do this because he used to the world being a little darker through his shades.
You thought he was just trying to reassure you, but in a few ten feet you’re there, the cold metal wall under your fingers, and though you’re not out of the woods yet, you’re so relieved. Your relief rears up into a monster of its own, smooth and easy, and you find Dave’s lips with your own, you don’t even miss in the darkness.
The air from his nose is stuttered out against the side of your own as he presses back. His hand squeezing somehow even harder.
The butterflies rising in your gut plummet at the sound of another tearing crack, and you come back to your senses.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he breathes, his mouth not entirely separated from yours, you feel the words forming on it.
You nod and both start to edge along the wall towards freedom.
FILL: TEAM BRO<3JOHN
Even as you shudder at the mere notion, you can’t help but feel a thrill of strange and exhilarating excitement, originating from the feel of your hands clasped, drenched in mingling fearsweat. The slip of your wet skin and the tightening to compensate is almost obscene, bizarrely comforting in this terrible pitch black.
“Did you hear that?” he whispers, and the hairs on the back of your neck raise as an electrical tingling sensation spreads from the area. Part of it is Dave’s breath ghosting across your skin, and part of it was the fact that no, you didn’t hear it. You’d been thinking about your hands touching, linked so closely as to become one. You’d let yourself get distracted. And that’s when it strikes, when you’re guard is down, you can’t believe you let-
The sound comes from your right, you think, a low and unearthly rumble. You suck in a breath so sharp it threatens to become a scream, but Dave’s hand is over your mouth before it can give you away.
“Shh!” he hisses, right in your ear this time. You nod, but his hands stays where it is over your mouth. It’s trembling ever so slightly. You have something to say so you lick along the headline of the salty palm, an old trick from when you were younger. He doesn’t spout out a disgusted protest like he used to, just removes his hand.
You press in, lips almost against the shell of his ear. You’ve never felt like this before, and it’s almost as terrifying as what’s lurking in the dark.
“It’s behind us. I think it’s busy...” you gulp, just like in one of those shitty cartoons. “Eating.” You don’t know how you know this, but you do. You can feel his head moving next to your mouth, nodding in understanding.
You don’t need anymore discussion. You both know what to do but he takes the lead, pulling you along, your feet quietly shuffling along the floor. You can’t see his other arm but you know it’s outstretched into the oblivion, away from the safety and knowledge of your body clinging to his, searching for the wall.
There’s another growl and you both freeze, but not before you catch up the few inches between you and press your chest against his back. You listen, trying not to get distracted again, by the sound of his shallow breath, the pulse you can feel thrumming against your own.
The silence goes on forever. Ponderous and heavy as you strain your ears for any signs of anything.
There’s a sickening crack echoing through the void. Bone. A ribcage. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and give your whimpered woes to his shoulder instead of the blackness.
“Just a few more feet,” he murmurs, and starts off again. You think maybe he can do this because he used to the world being a little darker through his shades.
You thought he was just trying to reassure you, but in a few ten feet you’re there, the cold metal wall under your fingers, and though you’re not out of the woods yet, you’re so relieved. Your relief rears up into a monster of its own, smooth and easy, and you find Dave’s lips with your own, you don’t even miss in the darkness.
The air from his nose is stuttered out against the side of your own as he presses back. His hand squeezing somehow even harder.
The butterflies rising in your gut plummet at the sound of another tearing crack, and you come back to your senses.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he breathes, his mouth not entirely separated from yours, you feel the words forming on it.
You nod and both start to edge along the wall towards freedom.