Chase's Book of YT One-Shots

Incubus (MaskedMexican)

A/N: I guess I must have felt that since the last one was short, I needed to make this one lengthy. I was thinking about making this SeaMexican, but... I like the thought of Ohm having a scary side.

The support from the last one-shot surprised me. I'm glad I'm putting out good content for you guys.
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Incubus, n. (in-kyu-bis)
1. (archaic) nightmare
2. A cause of distress or anxiety
3. A male demon counterpart to the succubus, who brings death or illness through lying with their sleeping partner.
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Max was running.

He turned a corner sharply, fighting urge to look behind him while his feet slapped the wet ground, sending splattering water onto his ankles and jeans. He didn't notice, and if he had noticed it was extremely unlikely he may have stopped to roll up the bottoms at a time like this.

His feet and breaths were overwhelming to his ears, but some part of him understood it was mostly overrun by cars passing and splashing on the roads. God damn it, he could really use with more of those noises.

Finally, he could run no more and pushed his back against the wet brick of some office building against the sidewalk, gulping air down in a way he was sure would be embarrassing if he were doing this for any other reason. Sedentary lifestyle had not done him well, and he resolved that if he survived this he was going to exercise the hell out of himself. Rain slicked his hair and dropped slowly down his chin, leaving his shirt uncomfortably clingy to his stomach and chest. He was half tempted to just do away with it, but made no action to do so.

The dream was always the same.

Slowly, he peaked around the corner to see the road had cleared, leaving only the streetlights to light his way in patches. He was more cautious now, an overwhelming sense of danger and anticipation of being attacked dominating his thoughts.

He mentally snapped at himself, walking at a brisker pace towards his unknown destination. He refused to allow himself to panic in any way, shape, or form while fighting hell. At least, he was pretty sure it was hell. As per usual, he couldn't remember what was at the end of these lights in his path. Something horrible, he felt, something which he didn't desire to see.

He kept walking.

The rain continued its way down, but Max didn't feel its contact anymore, only its presence in the dripping gutters and pattering against cement. The sound drove him half-crazy, something in his head not allowing him to block the noise out. The sounds intermingled with irritating regularity, like some sort of song that could be related to fingernails on a fucking chalkboard and shit.

Max felt his breath coming fast again and closed his eyes to steady himself, but got no chance as a sudden sound echoed in his mind and forced his lids back up.

The damn lights were off now, leaving him in total darkness he was fully aware wasn't natural, a fact that rather than providing comfort provided a sense of dread.

One streetlight turned on down the street, acting as a spotlight on what was beneath it.

Max was running again, a feeling of heavy desperation within him forcing his legs to work even though his mind protested against revealing whatever it was his nightmare wished him to see. When it came into view and he felt bile rising in his throat, he wished he'd listened better.

Tears formed in his eyes and he backed against some black, shapeless wall, uncontrollably shaky. His sobs were so choking that before long he was dry-heaving, hiccups entwining in symphony with ragged breaths and gasps and swallows and swears and prayers.