IN MY RESTLESS DREAMS.
rottenfrvit:
the fog has started to settle in a thick layer over the town and when she can’t help but look outside, there’s always someone staring back. only, she can’t make out their expression. their stares burn though. they have her glancing away only to look back again and find the same set of eyes on her as noah slowly drives through the town.
it’s fucking ominous, if you ask her.
that said, she isn’t too keen on staying in the car alone, even if it seems like a better option than heading out. she also doesn’t want to start anything that’ll only keep them here longer. “alright, don’t do anything stupid…”
when he’s out of sight, emily reaches for a water bottle and takes a sip before letting her hand rest on the door handle. maybe she should go the other way, in case they drove past the station. she wouldn’t be surprised, with the thick fog and all.
going against every rule of the horror movie book, she opens the door, switches on the flashlight on her phone, and steps out.
shining the light on the occasional storefront sign as she walks, she catches sight of some antique store, stopping in her tracks. someone peeks behind a curtain and this time, emily can pinpoint their expression. recognition. the unease in her stomach grows to the point where she can feel her heart drumming in her chest—is she opening the door?
“fuck this.” she mutters, turning back around and power-walking back to the car. breaking out into a swift jog when she can hear whoever that was call out to her, it seems that their words get swallowed up by the fog.
now just a few steps away from the car, she turns again despite everything in her telling her not to, walking backwards but slowing down when she can’t spot anyone following. but her heart just about stops for a second when her back bumps into something, and as nearly anyone else would, she screams.
he leaves emily with a wink and a playful “i can’t guarantee that, babe.”
noah likes to think that it’s his defense mechanism to when he’s stressed. sure, he’s talkative in his normal state, but he just can’t seem to stop his mouth from running when things gets worse. fortunately, more often than not, his ramblings seem to lighten the atmosphere.
although he can’t say the same for this one.
who the fuck lives in this kind of place? is his first reaction to the glum scenery before him. the fog is so thick that not even the sunlight can break in. and there’s nobody in sight. the shops look like they’ve been closed for months. and he’s starting to feel uncomfortable with the amount of stares weighing his back.
a small creak of a door on the house next to him pulls noah back into reality, and he immediately directs the flashlight of his phone towards the small gap. “h-hello?” he asks in a very manly voice. when no answer seems to be offered, he swallowed the last bit of his fear and decided to approach the open door, arm outstretched to push the handle further--
until a hand comes out of the darkness out of nowhere, gripping his wrist tightly. and being the manly man that he is, noah screams.
















