[private]
WHO: Peter and Adam.
WHAT: *weep*
WHERE: Adam's house/the disco.
WHEN: Evening. Day 135.
The ground was on fire. the air was on fire. Loud noises raping the air, and he felt like his ear drums were going to explode. Screaming, explosions, and everything happening in slow motion as he just saw bright light, debris, a face - familiar face pulling him out, falling to the ground, pain everywhere, fire, something. It was everywhere, and he felt so numb. It was like New York City, Kirby Plaza, a cold night, exploding in midair, and this was it. Another one bites the dust. Another bomb going boom. Was it his fault? Somehow? Did he do something? Activate a power, latent for so long, and suddenly it went -
"FUCK - " He jolted up in bed, his heart beating a million miles per minute. His vision was still blurry, and his mind racing as he tried to figure out where he was, what he was doing here. This wasn't his bed, his room. It was darker, more Victorian with red curtains pulled over the bed, and comfortable sheets. Peter felt around blindly, pulling off the covers, and stumbling out of the bed, tripping over his feet.
Nothing. Why was he wearing nothing, but his fucking underwear? What the fuck was going on?
Out of habit, he made a gesture to pull back his bangs, and was met with nothing. Frantically, he felt his hair. Short, cut short. What was - another dimension, world? What?
"Fuck," he whispered again, blinking, trying to adjust to the dim light.
WHAT: *weep*
WHERE: Adam's house/the disco.
WHEN: Evening. Day 135.
The ground was on fire. the air was on fire. Loud noises raping the air, and he felt like his ear drums were going to explode. Screaming, explosions, and everything happening in slow motion as he just saw bright light, debris, a face - familiar face pulling him out, falling to the ground, pain everywhere, fire, something. It was everywhere, and he felt so numb. It was like New York City, Kirby Plaza, a cold night, exploding in midair, and this was it. Another one bites the dust. Another bomb going boom. Was it his fault? Somehow? Did he do something? Activate a power, latent for so long, and suddenly it went -
"FUCK - " He jolted up in bed, his heart beating a million miles per minute. His vision was still blurry, and his mind racing as he tried to figure out where he was, what he was doing here. This wasn't his bed, his room. It was darker, more Victorian with red curtains pulled over the bed, and comfortable sheets. Peter felt around blindly, pulling off the covers, and stumbling out of the bed, tripping over his feet.
Nothing. Why was he wearing nothing, but his fucking underwear? What the fuck was going on?
Out of habit, he made a gesture to pull back his bangs, and was met with nothing. Frantically, he felt his hair. Short, cut short. What was - another dimension, world? What?
"Fuck," he whispered again, blinking, trying to adjust to the dim light.