The Fog ⇢ Dead by Daylight Oneshots

𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗

✩ Philip Ojomo "The Wraith" ✘ Caring!Protective!Reader ✩

❝I think part of the reason why we hold on to something so tight is that we fear something so great won't happen twice.❞

THIS CHAPTER WAS REQUESTED

Between the campfires, there was a void of darkness. As the light tapered off, your body would be engulfed with a pitch black. It's cold there too. Chills would fill your body as you stared into the never-ending darkness.

You wanted to see Philip, but as the sign of life ever existing dimmed, you weren't so sure about the adventure. Exhaling in denial of the possibility of not seeing him, you glanced over at the fire. Flames flicked at the sky, growing and falling as it breathed into life. They stung your vision, the outline following your gaze as you reached for a branch. Carefully you lifted it from the pit of flames—the lapped at your skin burning you slightly. You hissed in pain, transferring the wood to your other hand, allowing you to bring your wounded one to your mouth. Your saliva soothed the pain for a moment, but the pain returned as soon as it disappeared.

You looked back at the darkness. It devoured your sight, discouraging you from your descent. As you walked, the light from the campfire glowed. It burned through the darkness enough for you to see your hands, but your lower body was lost to the night. You looked back for the campfire you were just at, but it was gone. An ache formed in your chest as you realized you were stranded in nothingness. You weighed your options, turn back into the potential comfort of the warmth of the survivor campfire or continue the route to possibly meet up with the man who you've been dying to see.

Finally, you decided to trek on, you'd already come this far, and you don't want to keep Philip waiting if he was out there. And as if out of nowhere, there was a pinprick of light. You weren't sure if you saw things, but as you grew closer, the light expanded. It illuminated against Philip's tattered clothing. His features became more prominent with the stark contrast around it. Your eyes meet, making your chest flutter with bits of anxiety nipping at your fingertips.

Philip grew closer to you, grabbing the light from your hand before bending down just enough to reach your forehead. His lips gently grazed your skin, leaving goosebumps on your already cool skin. He sat your stick of fire next to the one jutting up from the ground, which you presumed was his. "I'll have to go soon."

The sentence pained you. Of course, you knew that Philip had a trail, but you wanted to spend time with him. You can't hold games hostage anymore due to the map collapse when someone opens an exit gate. But you figured you could get at least a bubble of time with him. "Do you think you can tell me a story?"

"A what?" You could tell your question made Philip uncomfortable. His former movements became ridged as his tone was now flat from its once gentle spoken nature.

"A story. You know, from your childhood or past. Something that's not from this," you paused, trying to find the right words, "place." You strained to try to understand what he was thinking. To suddenly appear in his brain and understand what's going on and how you affected it. You wanted to nitpick his sentences, investigate the syllables, and know what he means behind every word. The knowledge of his brain was a disease for you, and the thought plagued your being.

"No." The response was short. Rash. It was like a knife plunged into your heart. You didn't know why it hurt so much, but he denied you the possibility of his past hurt more than hanging on a meat hook.

"How can you not-"

"I don't. And I must go, I have a trial. I'll see you later." You looked up at Philip, confusion washing over your face. He's never cut you off before. You try to speak again, but he and his light are already gone, leaving you alone in the forever void.