Oneshots | Dom x Adam (YUNGBLUD)

hold me tight (angst)

Note -  also posted on my ao3: BowsAndTies

Summary: «Sorry,» Dom whispers as a few fresh tears spills down his already tear-tracked cheeks. He quickly wipes at them with a trembling hand, which leaves a smear of bright red blood on his pale skin.

Dom, Adam & Tom are staying together in a rented house in LA during quarantine. One night Adam wakes up thinking there's an intruder in the house, but it turns out it is Dom having a mental breakdown.

Adam's eyes flicker open, only to reveal almost complete darkness. He blinks away the grogginess, and allows his eyes to adjusts to the lack of light before looks around the bedroom. The room looks exactly how it did before he fell asleep. His suitcase is on the floor where he last saw it, and the pile of clothes on top of it looks just as messy, some socks are strewn around and a bunch of water bottles are sat on the dresser. There's seemingly no reason for him to wake up. There's no axe murderer in the room, it is quiet except for Tom's soft puffs of air from the bunk above him, and physically he feels fine. He doesn't have to pee or have any sort of body ache, which is slightly amazing given the amount of rum he drank before bed. Adam takes another confused glance around the room, but he's still left clueless as to why he woke up so abruptly. With a sigh he lets his head sink down to the pillow.

He's in a deep slumber again when he hears a loud bang. This time he's aware of what's disturbing his sleep. The noise sounded distant, but not distant enough to not be from inside the house. Unwillingly, his heart starts to pound faster in his chest. Maybe there is an axe murderer in the house after all, or more likely, a burglar. Both of those possibilities doesn't sound too pleasant. He decides that staying still is the best option, until his sleep clouded mind remembers that Dom sleeps alone, and to Adam that sounds like a real nightmare, to be alone when there's an intruder in the house.

«Tom?» Adam whispers, barely louder than a breath.

There's another loud crash coming from downstairs, this time it sounded like some glass were shattered as well. The burglar definitely needs to work on their finesse.

«You awake, mate?» Adam whisper-hisses.

Adam stays still, barely even allowing himself to breathe, paranoid that that is too loud as well. He repeats the question one more time, and still after no response, he defeatedly realizes that he has to both save Dom and deal with the burglar on his own. He can't wake up Tom and risk having him freak out, and also the process of waking him up would probably require too much noise anyways, seeing that the loud ruckus from downstairs doesn't even make him budge.

Adam sits up in his bed, with movements as slow as syrup, and once his bare feet touch the hardwood floor, his breathing is shakier than he would ever admit to. It is in moments like these he wishes he would have stayed in Scotland, that, or he wishes they had rented a house in a less sketchy part of the city.

What are you even supposed to do when someone invades your house? Adam has forgotten, and he kind of never thought that would happen to him, so he didn't pay attention during his moms lectures when he was a kid. Adam slowly turns down the handle of the bedroom door, and grimaces at the squeaky sound the door makes as he pushes it open. He takes slow steps down the corridor until he reaches the beginning of the stairs.

At least he's not been attacked yet, but while looking down the steps to the main floor, he's almost certain that's what's waiting for him. He swallows thickly as a new wave of dread washes over him. But he reminds himself that he has to do it for Dom, who's probably scared shitless in his bedroom, or maybe worse off than that, but that's a thought Adam quickly rids himself off.

He silently makes it halfway down the stairs, where he pauses to listen. He has to strain himself to hear anything since the intruder has gone so silent. Adam almost dares to believe that he has left, until he hears what sounds like broken glass sliding along the floor. He gulps, but forces himself to walk down the rest of the stairs. He has seen enough cop movies to know what to do next, except he doesn't have anything to protect himself with other than his fists, which makes him feel more than slightly vulnerable. He looks around for anything he can use, but there's nothing except for a single shoe, a few paintings on the wall and large pot plant. Well, here goes nothing.