BBS One Shots

"I Could Have Lost You!" (TerrorNuckel)

I frown at the rain pouring down from the other side of the window. Any other rainy day, I would be sitting in my comfy reading chair by this window, reading and drinking some tea. However, today I was watching for someone. My boyfriend, Brian. He's been out all day, not answering my texts or calls. He worries me a lot. I'm surprised the stress and paranoia hasn't killed me yet.

I let out a small sigh and turn from the window, plopping down on our dull grey couch. Pulling my knees up into my chest, I let my imagination run wild with all the various situations he could be in.

He could be laying dead in an alley or ditch.

He could be drunk and have gotten into a fight and arrested.

He could be fucking some other guy.

He could have been kidnapped.

Tears prick my eyes as I try to shake the thoughts away. But they just echo around in my head. I dig my palms into my eyes. Maybe I should call the cops, I think, sniffing and reaching for my phone. The crash of the front door on the wall made me drop it.

"It is really pouring out there..." I turn to see Brian holding his chest, leaning in the doorway. His hair is a mess and his clothes are soaked. I'm quick to help him inside, shutting the door behind us.

"Brian! What happened?!" I ask, helping him to the couch.

He sighs and I notice the blood on his hand. I pull it off his chest and notice a large gash, blood dribbling from it. I look at it then at him. He sighs again, noticing my disappointment and concern.

"Come on. Into the bathroom. You're not getting blood on my couch." I mutter, pulling him up and into the bathroom.

He chuckles as he hops onto the counter while I fish the first aid kit out of the closet. He removes his jacket and shirt with winces of pain as I begin looking through the kit for wound cleaning and my old stitching stuff.

"How did you even manage this?" I ask, beginning to clean his wound.

"I got into a fight." He says simpily, as if it were no big deal. As if he couldn't have died.

His nonchalantness makes me visibly upset. I feel my body shake as I go to start sewing up the gash. I hear him chuckle again as he grabs my shaky wrists.

"I don't think I want a surgeon with nonsteady hands, babe." He attempts a joke but I just glare and pull my hands away from him. He seems confused.

"You think this is all a joke?! You could have died! I could have lost you, you Irish bitch!" I yell at him, tears rolling down my face. I couldn't help it.

I hear him slide off the counter and strong cold arms wrap around me. I put my face in his bare chest as he messes with my hair, his head on mine.

"I'm sorry, Brock. I didn't mean to upset you. I know you get worried easily." He apologizes but I just sniff and shake my head.

"Then why worry me?" I ask, pulling away from him.

"I would have called or texted you but like I said I got into a fight. Some guy was trying to rob me and well, it got out of hand." He explains and I just nod.

"It's okay-" I take a deep breath and hug him again, "At least you're okay."

He hugs me back and kisses my head before pulling away.

"So, can I get those stitches now?" I smile a little and shake my head as he hops back onto the counter.

"Oh by the way, we couldn't make it to the Baby Shower because you were missing.  I had to cancel on them." I tell him as I finish up his stitches about an hour later.

"Oh well, we'll have to get the presents we made the little monster later." He grins and hops off the counter, backing me up into the wall.

"But now, I have other plans." He whispers, his hands on my waist and his hot breath on my ear.

"Do they involve icecream, cuddles, annnnnd binge watching Stranger Things?" I ask and he laughs, kissing my lips briefly.

"You read my mind."

🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍

-MEOW🍍