∞ FOREVER: LOOPED ⟐ Larry × Lawrie ⟐ Brawl Stars ⟐

-- [{ Chapter 4 }] --

If this doesn't make sense, I will add an explanation at the end of the chapter ;-;

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{a little bit stressful, actually no, it's stressful... yeah really stressful. So here's you're warning!!!}
this is supposed :D To be scary so I will become more and more descriptive, I recommend listening to the song above, it enhances the experience, like REALLY ENHANCES IT, put it on loop :)

**There are sounds of screams and bullets outside of the house*

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vv Lawrie's POV vv:

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In a cold sweat, I wake up, as my ears adjust to nearby sounds I hear guns and fighting outside...
Why would there be fighting outside... DID THIS MAINTENANCE BREAK NOT LAST?!
OH NO No no.

I look to my right to see Larry still sleeping, clinched onto me hard, he can scarcely breathe.

Lawrie--"Larry.. LARRY WAKE UP, WHERE LATE, THE FIGHTING HAD ALREADY STARTED"

I get out of bed and look out the window, Panic rises into my eyes, Larry gets shaken by my voice and wakes up sitting upright, concerned.

Larry--"wha.. Wha?... What war"

I start hyper-ventilating, How many minutes have we overslept? We can't be late... Oh no.

Lawrie--"Larry Listen To Me, stay HERE. DONT. MOVE"

Larry's eyes dart nervously in my direction, a reflection of his growing fear. He clutches his head tightly, the remnants of last night's drinking clearly taking a toll on him—his expression is one of distress, as if the very thought of movement sends waves of pain pulsing through his temples.

Panicked, I rush down the staircase and dart to the front door. Peering through the peephole, my heart races as I scan the empty exterior. There's no sign of anyone... yet. "We have time," I whisper to myself, a futile attempt to reassure my racing mind. I grasp the doorknob, but as I turn it, a sharp jolt courses through my hand—a sudden reminder of our predicament. A distorted, chilling chime fills the air, echoing ominously: "UNDER LOCKDOWN, REBOOTING STILL IN PROGRESS." It's a message I already dreadfully understand, but I needed to check.

With a sense of urgency, I ascend the stairs back to our bedroom. I reach out to Larry, gently helping him out of bed. His hand feels clammy in mine as I pull him along, leading him to the bathroom. I lock the door with trembling fingers, casting a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure we're hidden from view. Larry's face crumbles, tears brimming in his eyes as he shakes violently, a visible manifestation of his panic. I rush to his side, wiping the moisture from his cheeks with my thumb, desperate to quell his fear. I offer him a soft, reassuring smile, though my own heart is racing in the grip of uncertainty.

With a firm gesture, I signal for him to be quiet, placing my finger gently over my lips. I lean my forehead against his, closing my eyes as I hold his trembling hands tightly in mine. Moments stretch like eternities until the oppressive silence is shattered by the violent crashing sound of our front door being ripped open. I can feel the panic radiating from Larry, his grip on my hands tightening to the point of pain; he's hyperventilating, his breaths short and frantic.

Footsteps thud heavily across the floor of our living room, slowly making their way toward the kitchen. A cold wave of dread washes over me as I realize I should've armed myself—what I would've given for a knife right now. I pull Larry closer, trying my best to be a source of comfort even as my own anxiety simmers just below the surface. His body trembles against mine, and I can feel him fighting to stay calm, though it's an uphill battle.