homesick | sal fisher x fem!reader ;; ❞

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 .8

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╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : ❞
Brief mentions of panic attack
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Teeth clattered with each breath, a looming shadow of regret overhead of your soaked stature.

You had managed to drench yourself, waiting for a certain bluenette to walk home with. To put it bluntly, he never came.

Whatever, right? You had just met Sal, you don't expect him to spend every waking moment in your presence, it'd become unbearable, logically speaking.

Still, you're clueless to Nockfell's routes and terrain. Each corner seems to dissociate, to deceive what you swore you saw mere seconds ago. You got lucky this time. Larry had somehow snagged both Todd and you, sprinting down the pavement as Ash bolted for her beaten up vehicle in the opposite direction, exclaiming a boisterous farewell as rain pelted her long, auburn locks.

The chase was inevitable, though. Your trio out of breath, drenched clothes dripped onto the stained carpeting of the building's lobby as strains of wet hair stuck uncomfortably to your neck. Now you stood alone, underneath a busted shower head as water slowly slid off your bare chest. Clammy hands hugged your arms as you still shivered from the weather's abrupt mood swing.

Soft echoes of droplets' impact against the tub's tile walls and shower curtain only furthered your frustration. Where was Sal?

Call it selfish, but we've already established you'd overthink a simple equation if necessary. Whenever you worried, you'd thrive with anxious thoughts and a constant fog of despair.

Were you both on good terms? Had Sal gotten bored of your company? Was he alright, and if so, where was he?

Regardless of your reluctance to grow ignorant of such oddities, you settled for a rather self absorbed thought.

"I better be sick as a damn dog tomorrow." I don't want to face rejection.

You repeated this as if a prayer, pruning digits twisted the handle as the shower head's offer of water halted.

A large white towel rested on top your head, a comfortable baggy graphic tee and fluffy pajama pants, spotted in a pattern of peaches that clung within the material. Ash had texted you mid shower, promising a ride for just you and her, no matter how much you declined, she insisted. "girl time" was how she quoted it.

A remorse smile slithered in place of your former frown, one you had been adorning since you walked into the dull elevator, separating you from your most recent the pleasant distraction.

Neither Sal or Larry had called, nor Todd after disbanding. Flashes of thunder blinked in the corner of your eye, peaking beneath the cheap sage curtains that hung loosely against the window. Each bolting light held a vauge similarity to one's you'd see behind your eyelids, a recurring nightmare prompting your restless nights.

"Not a good time to wander the apartments.." You concluded, the dim lights above flickering with each volt. Definitely not with a storm like this.

The apartment was quiet, it's wide floorplan easy to maneuver as you staggered into the droll space of darkness. The floorboards creaked beneath your footing, releasing it's own breath of relief as your body sank into the cushioned sofa, manspreading.

Who cares, right? Trembling digits looped around the television's remote, suddenly hyperaware of how empty the small couch was. Not like Lucas or Mel are here.