Thunderstorms (Fortnite Collection)

Shared Anxieties

In light of the storm and a past incident, Jules remembers just how terrifying the weather can be, even when it isn't particularly daunting.

In light of the storm and a past incident, Midas remembers just how terrifying the weather can be, even when it isn't particularly daunting.

~•~

Boom!

Jules's eyes flew open immediately. She had barely drifted into sleep beforehand, and the rude awakening was very much unappreciated. But, more importantly, what was that sound? Something under attack, perhaps? No, it couldn't be. If that were the case, Midas and his senses would have already been here, urging her out and to safety. Whatever it was had her anxieties high, though.

Sweating. She was sweating. Why was she sweating? Crash. There was another crash. It was the natural crash of thunder, she realized, and at a sudden flicker of lightning, she gasped. She gripped her sheets. She was over this, she thought. She was fifteen. She had grown out of her fear of thunderstorms. Why now? What was different.

She forced out a sharp exhale and sat up, pulling her blankets over her head and burying herself in them like a child. She held her trembling, covered hands over her ears just in time for another rumble to pass through. She fell backwards and curled up, trying her hardest to block out the sounds of the storm. It didn't work.

Midas had gone through far worse. Midas had sat inside a radioactive storm for too long, and had been bedridden for a week. Midas. He had gone through the trauma. She needed to make sure he was alright. Jules stumbled out of bed, untangling herself in the process, but after more thunder, she gave up on the gesture and darted for the hall, still wrapped in her covers.

Boom!

Midas hadn't gone to sleep. He had been dreadfully awaiting the storm's arrival ever since he realized just how humid the air was on his regular evening stroll around the rivers surrounding their estate. The sounds of the sky. They weren't sounds he could save himself or his sister from, no matter how much he wished he could. His anxieties were heightened.

Trembling. He was trembling. He couldn't be trembling. Crash. There was another crash. The unfortunately natural crash of thunder. There was a flicker of lightning, brighter than the rest, and he gasped, gripping his sheets.

Rain. He loved the rain, but rain didn't love him anymore, as it always came with the threatening gestures of a thunderstorm. Why now? Why, when the storm came, circling the island, did it create these harsh, inner, rare thunderstorms? He had already learned his lesson on researching the horrifying entity trapping him and everything here. He couldn't bring himself to do it again, so his questions would forever remain unanswered.

He hated it. He hated the storm, he hated nature, he hated rain. He hated the sky. He hated the color purple. He hated the overwhelming feeling that the storm would move in. It would suffocate him. It would drown him. He would be sucked into an orchid colored vortex, never to see the light of day again. It would take him. He would never escape like he had managed to do that one day. He would be forgotten.

Footsteps in the hall. They were growing closer, distracting him from his morbid thoughts. The gold coating his hands had spread to his shoulders. The pillow he had been grasping was turned solid. The footsteps. They could only belong to Jules. He threw the golden pillow off the side of the bed. It made a loud thud against the wooden floor just in time for another rumble of thunder to pass through. At least it was out of view, and she wouldn't witness his panicked frenzy.

He was a leader. He couldn't be seen in this state, not even by his sister. He focused on his heavy breaths, hoping before she even reached his door, he could calm himself, he could gain control over his hands, he could-

"Midas...?"

His door flew open, and he couldn't stop a yelp of shock from escaping his throat, followed by a stifled whimper. He was a pathetic child.

But Jules wasn't looking down on him. She was concerned, rightfully so, and even frightened, whether it be for him, or from the rage of the storm.

More thunder. She raced to his bedside, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

They would wait it out together.