don't freak out

Thanks to all these incredible, beautiful people for the tags: @robrondale @maybemystcha @illbeyourreasonwhy @jackiemerrick @thatnervouswreck @barnbert @aaronsugdens @nerdyfangirl76 @stuckinanothertimezone

This is just a teeny tiny bit from chapter four of we've got our wings and we're chasing the wind (bartender/mechanic part2). I'm working on this one today, to hopefully post later tonight but we will see 😊😊

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A haunting feeling creeps into his gut like he's being watched. Eyes are glued to him from all corners of this darkness he's entered into, but he can't say who's.

He tries to breathe but no air enters his lungs. He tries to blink but all he sees is an empty black limbo. He tries to lower his heartrate, now pumping blood through his body faster than a jackhammer, but something or someone is holding it in their grasp, squeezing it and letting it go, squeezing and letting it go until he feels moments from passing out.

Suddenly the blackness shifts. And he's in a graveyard. Darkness lies thick like a blanket, the energy of this place ghostly and cold. Thrown off balance he turns and turns reading name after name on graves that always haunt him, hurting him like whiplash.

Jackson Walsh.

Donna Windsor

But also…

Adam Barton.

Robert Sugden.

When his eyes land on the last one he wants to scream and cry and rip out his hair. Even more so when the darkness shifts again and materialising out of the ground, Robert's boots crunch on the dirt where he supposedly lies. He wears a leather jacket, black like the air around them, but his face is rippling with coldness and animosity, eyes like daggers digging a hole into him.

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