SUNSET DRIVE ☼ k.rengoku x reader

12; Twilight Hours

Track 12; Panic Attacks in Paradise by Ashnikko

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The snow falling around you is heavy and thick, as if Mother Nature was trying to layer a heavy blanket across the Earth. The wind chill that comes with it is freezing cold, biting viciously at the exposed skin on your cheeks and slipping through the cracks in your scarf. Your limbs are still heavy from that fucking drink he had given you, making it even more difficult to get around in this weather. The asphalt on the road is covered in a thick layer of ice, only hidden by the soft powder lying over it. Your sense of time is disoriented, so you aren't sure exactly how long it takes you to get across the frozen street.

"Hey! Wait up!"

You've got one boot on the opposite sidewalk when you hear him call for you. He has a stupid grin on his face even as he slips and slides across the ice.

"Be careful!" You do as he asked, more than willing to stop. When you pivot to face him fully your limbs feel as if they're made of cement. Your tongue is thick and difficult to use, it's frustrating you immensely. "You're gonna slip!"

He shoots you the widest smile he can manage. "I changed my mind, I'm coming with you!"

Despite the inebriated state you're in, that statement sends a thrill of excitement through you. "Wait, what?" You rub at your throat, trying to ignore the irritation there. He had just said he couldn't come with you...none of this was making any sense.

He steps down into the icy roadway and begins making his way across to you, burgundy hair hidden under a dark blue beanie. It looked black in the darkness, but you knew which hat it was because you'd given it to him. You decide to wait until he's closer before stepping up onto the sidewalk entirely.

Two faint beams of light appear on your right. It's a set of headlights off of a dark SUV. The snow is coming down so heavily that you know they don't have a clear line of sight. Had nobody heard of the whiteout conditions disallowing any sort of driving?

You open your mouth to warn him, but no sound comes out.

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You wake up in a hot sweat with a painful sob that started as a lump of concrete in the back of your throat. You muffle the sound by grabbing the pillow next to you and stuffing it into your face, accidentally sending your phone launching across the room. You wrap your arms around it, squeezing it between your knees and curling into a ball. Every breath you take from the fabric of your pillow case is lowkey choking you, not helping the hyperventilation you'd unintentionally worked yourself into.

You hated that dream. That was quite literally your worst nightmare. You haven't experienced it in about a week, which was odd seeing that you had it nearly every other night. It takes everything in you to not find the quickest way out of your bedroom. Your instincts told you to run away, but there was nothing to run from. You can't hide from your own brain, unfortunately. Nor can you hide from the nightmares built off of trauma you'd experienced just over a year ago.

You aren't sure how long it takes you to settle, but it's a good twenty minutes at least. Your heart is still beating rapidly, trying to make a break from the contracting walls of your chest. The fans blowing the cool, yet slightly muggy night air help pull you back into focus. The only light in your room is what's produced by the street lamp outside, causing a faint eerie yellow glow to flood the room; it left your doorway in pitch darkness as the lamp was on the opposite side of the road from you.

Your hands are shaking when you lift your head from your pillow. It's soaked through with tears and a bit of mucus that had dropped from your runny nose. You scrunch your nose at its state and toss it off the bed, hearing it hit the pile of clothes near your overstuffed closet with a soft 'whump'. You'll toss it into the wash tomorrow with the rest of your clothes. You kick the thin sheet off of your exposed legs and feel a chill crawl over you, causing goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck and arms.