SMii7Y+ House Oneshots

{TW} Not your Fault - Puffer × Grizzy

Not Requested

TW: Talk of Death & R*pe
Read with Care

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Grizzy's POV

Evenings grow quiet often ever since I chose to live alone, the only sound usually coming from my phone. Whether that is a notifcation or a video, it depends on the situation. I often find myself streaming on nights like these, however no ideas come to mind on what to do, so I avoid the decision. Instead, I lounge on the sofa, scrolling through TikTok. A safe space for me to blank out the world. The clock adjusted on the wall ticks away, indicating the time was 11:27pm. Voicing my thoughts is common for me, so I just embrace it.

"I should probably head to bed, who knows how early Chris is going to appear at the door."

Lifting off the cushions, I have a brisk stretch before leaving the living room, and entering the kitchen. I grab a drink of water, chugging a bit down to keep me going for the night. As I delicately drop the glass onto the side, I hear my front door swing open, startling me aggressively, before swiftly shuts again. I stomp out of the room, with the intention to discover the source.

A recognisable male is stanced by the front door, holding his arms away from his torso and feet positioned shoulder width apart. His hair was messed up, strands poking out everywhere, and his glasses were partially wonky. Panting left his lips, either from running or pure fear. The most obvious feature, but not a common one for him, was the blood staining his skin and his clothes.

"Nelson, I- fuck..." his words choke out with his lack of breath, "You're the only one I trust."

"You have a lot of fucking explaining to do, Christopher, but first you're having a shower." I demand, gesturing to the kitchen with a finger, "Take your clothes off there before you go any further, seeing you nude is the least of my worries right now." The strong smell of fresh blood fills my nostrils, as well as a hint of alcohol.

He nods slowly, lifting the hoodie over his head and onto the floor, his shorts falling on top of it a couple seconds later. Shoes and socks slipped off - all that was remaining was a black t-shirt, his boxers and his white socks. All pristine in condition compared to the items on the floor. He carefully steps away and into the kitchen, finding the bathroom with ease. Entering and locking the door behind himself, I release a large sigh, placing my head in my hands.

What. The. Fuck. Happened.

Every possible thought rushes through my brain. I could not tell you how stressed the idea of my best friend murdering somebody in cold blood makes me, but my arms can not keep still. I do not know how to feel, as I never thought he had the capabilities to actually kill... someone...

I was stood there for longer than it felt, because a small voice echoes out from behind the kitchen door.

"Nelson? Do you have any- uh, any clean clothes?" It is clear that the idea of him wearing my clothes is eating something up, but that should be the least of his worries.

I release a sigh, jogging up the stairs and into my bedroom, rumaging around to find something that would be good for him. A black sweatshirt, and a pair of grey jogging bottoms - this will do him before he gets home. If he gets home.

Swiftly returning, I tap on the door before it cautiously opens. His head pokes out, hair dripping down and his glasses disposed somewhere. An arm reaches out from somewhere, water droplets dotted across his skin, to grab the clothes I brought him. He thanks me before shutting the door once again, leaving me stunned by his appearance.