This is a continuation of @_Lost_Banshee_'s story.
I will be editing and maybe changing up things in the story to spice things up a little.
If anything, this is more of a experiment.
(Y/N) = Your Name
(L/N) = Last Name
(S/C) = Skin Color
(F/C) = Fa...
I was completely surrounded by trees and greenery. Even in the light of day, there was hardly a visible path I could even decide to follow in order to escape the forest. Feeling tired and utterly hopeless, my legs gradually began to give out. Finally I fell to my knees, squeezing the dead, withered leaves and dirt beneath my hands with spite.
I should've known it wasn't going to be easy. Nathan'd have to be absolutely idiotic to bring me back to where he was currently living at...
I took a moment to sturdy the intake of oxygen in my lungs, once again pushing myself back onto my feet, forwarding my gaze ahead. I couldn't help but notice the way the trees parted, as if it held their own natural trail.
"... Maybe if I just walk in a straight path." Trailing off mid-sentence, I began to walk, ignoring all the possibilities of danger that may occur in punishments of not turning back.
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Nathan's POV
...
...?
Something... Isn't right.
That beautiful aroma is gone... but why?
(Y/N)'s scent is—...
Suddenly, Nathan's—once resting—body shot up from the bed, his head whipping from side to side in hopes to spot his one and only soul mate...
The emotion in Nathan's eyes seemed to have almost gone absent, the temperature in the room dropping crucially. "Ah, So that's how it is..." he muttered to himself, the tone in his voice unmakeable.
Slowly, Nathan slid himself off of the comfort of his bed and proceeded to drag himself to his bedroom. It wasn't long before the petite male was in his room, shaky hands digging away in a rather large brunette chest.
The loud sounds of items being thrown across the room echoed through the corridors of the underground structure, until suddenly coming to a halt.
"I understand you don't want to stay but, Oh, (Y/N)..." Nathan sluggishly lifted himself onto his feet, his eyes seeming to gleam at the long and jagged machete he held in his cold grasp, tender finger tips grazing calmly above the perilous metal, "—Where else will you go?"
