Smut fem

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Summary: idk what to put THIS IS REALLY LONG==================================

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Summary: idk what to put THIS IS REALLY LONG
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You got separated from the group once Brett lost control, everything getting immersed in a hazy, green blast. Nothing worked when trying to calm him down, deescalate the situation and keep everyone safe. It blew up in y'all's faces, literally. Waking up against rubble and debris, not seeing where you landed or where you are, you're nervous.

There's no modern tech on you and you've got no way to reach Reagan or Andre, get in touch with Gigi or Glenn or Myc. You're absolutely alone until they find you. Or Brett finds you.

The two of you had been dating for a while, and you're endlessly in love with him. Tirelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Brett's a sweetheart and nothing but doting and kind to you, and he's in therapy. How lucky are you?

Not as much now that he's not himself and currently lethal, leveling several structures and sending you and your coworkers flying in different directions and under the influence of heavy chemtrails and 80's nostalgia.

Your footsteps are tentative, wary of the unsteady rubble you walk upon and try to breathe through your shirt, pulled over your nose and squint through the dust in the air. There's not much light, it's dark out and nighttime. The cold seeps in more and that fear of being alone and vulnerable at night starts to sink in and soak your bones.

No weapons on your person, rendered useless and defenseless without any of your gear or comrades, it's safe to say you're terrified beyond all belief. Walking softly, slowly turning over chunks of masonry and debris to walk better and find a way out of the barely standing structure you find yourself in.

Moments pass and you try to think of other things like what you'll do when you get home, if that show released it's second part yet so you can stream it soon, and attempt pathetically to calm yourself. It's not working.

You hear footsteps and you freeze, your body pressed to a wall and trying your best to hide in the looming shadows encompassing the formerly standing building. Pinpricks crawl up your neck and stand at the nape of your neck and across your arms. Your heartbeat has never seemed louder.

"Oh sweetheart, don't you want to see me?"

it's Brett, and you don't see him but you hear him, can't decipher where he is in relation to you from his voice, anywhere a possibility you don't want to explore. Crawling up in a ball and shutting your eyes would be better, shutting the world out and forcing yourself to wake up from such a terrible dream.

But the sight of candy apple green eyes tears that hope from your lungs when you shudder, never expecting yourself to be afraid of him. The fear isn't even about Brett, it's about the limitless possibilities and outcomes of what could happen. He's drenched so heavily in chemtrails it must be like standing too long near Chernobyl.

Feels so wrong.

"Why aren't you talking to me? Did I hurt you?" He sounds like the Brett you love, and you're worried he knows that, using that to get to you. He hasn't spotted you yet, walking around and you press yourself into the brick behind you, wishing you could just disappear, dissolve into nothingness so it would all go away.

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