(Dillon’s POV)
I’ve never been this fucking scared before in my life.
It’s like everything I thought I knew about fear has been wiped clean, replaced with this primal, gut-wrenching terror that’s got me frozen in place. My heart is slamming against my ribcage so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape. But I can’t freeze now. I can’t lose my shit. Not with Joshua standing beside me, not with the others watching, counting on me to keep it together.
The fog is thick, swirling like it’s alive. Dark forms move through it, silent but terrifying. Shadows—things that shouldn’t be here. Creatures that don’t make sense. Their outlines are hard to pin down, like they’re made of smoke or nightmares. And the worst part? They don’t make a sound. There’s no growl, no hiss, nothing that would give them away—just the soft rustle of the mist shifting as they move closer.
Joshua’s next to me, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. There’s this unspoken understanding between us right now, like we’re both on the same wavelength, knowing that we can’t let fear take over. He moves with a kind of focus I didn’t expect. He’s sharp, quick, like he’s done this before—like facing off with things that shouldn’t exist is just another Tuesday for him.
I don’t get it. Joshua’s always been this quiet, pissed-off guy who keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk much unless he’s pissed, and I’ve never really gotten why. But now? Now I’m seeing him in a completely different light. The guy isn’t just surviving—he’s holding his own. Brave, in a way that’s almost reckless. It makes me feel like I’ve been the one who’s been slacking, just playing at being in control.
A creature darts out of the mist, a blur of black shadow, and I react without thinking. I lunge forward, my arm swinging out, connecting with something solid. It feels like punching smoke, but the thing lets out a low hiss, recoiling back into the fog. Joshua’s already moving too, faster than me, his body a blur as he slams into one of the shadows with this brutal force. The thing screeches—a sound that chills me to my core—and dissolves back into the mist.
We’re not done. More shadows shift in the fog, closing in. I can see them, barely—dark figures that flicker like candle flames about to be snuffed out. Joshua shoots me a quick glance, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing: we need to get the others. We can’t do this alone.
“Regroup!” I shout, my voice sounding too thin, too desperate in the open air. “We need to pull back!”
The others are scattered, panicked, some of them still calling out for the missing girl. It’s chaos. My heart sinks as I realize we’ve got no plan, no fucking clue how to deal with this. But we have to try.
Joshua’s beside me again, his breath coming in sharp bursts. His eyes meet mine for a second, and in that moment, I realize I’m not just seeing Joshua differently because he’s strong. It’s something deeper, something unsettling that I can’t quite name yet.
It’s been gnawing at me for hours now—ever since we stepped into this fog, ever since Joshua and I started working together to keep everyone alive. My mind keeps circling back to him, and it’s not in the way I’m used to thinking about people. I can’t help but feel drawn to him, but in a way that makes me question everything. The kind of way that makes me uncomfortable, like I’m facing something I’ve ignored for a long time.
We finally reach the bus, and a few of the others are there, pale-faced and wide-eyed, huddled close like scared animals. Matt’s one of them, his usual bravado gone, replaced with this hollow, panicked look. He’s barely keeping it together, and the rest of them aren’t much better off.
“Where the fuck is everyone else?” Joshua demands, his voice cutting through the fear like a blade. He’s breathing hard, his eyes darting between the fog and the terrified faces of our classmates.
“They… they scattered,” Matt stammers. “We couldn’t find them. The fog, man, it’s everywhere.”
“We can’t just leave them,” I say, though my voice feels weak, even to me. I’m trying to sound confident, but all I can think about is how close we came to getting torn apart by those… things.
Joshua doesn’t respond immediately. He’s thinking, his mind running a million miles an hour, I can tell. But I’m watching him more closely now. The way his jaw tightens when he’s frustrated, the way his eyes darken when he’s about to make a decision.
Samantha flashes in my mind, and a weird guilt starts gnawing at me. She’s my girlfriend, right? She’s supposed to be the one I’m thinking about, worrying about. But I haven’t thought about her in hours. Not since everything went to hell.
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s what’s been bothering me for months now. Something’s missing with Samantha. Something that should be there between us but isn’t. I thought it was just stress or maybe I was being too picky, but now, standing here with Joshua, facing the impossible, I’m starting to think it has less to do with her and more to do with me.
Because right now, in the middle of this nightmare, all I can think about is Joshua. Not just because we’re fighting together, side by side, but because there’s something about him that I can’t shake. Something that’s always been there, just under the surface, waiting for me to see it.
Fuck.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and for a second, I feel like I can’t breathe. This is not the time for this. Not now. Not in the middle of the fucking fog, with creatures lurking just beyond the edge of sight. But there it is—this gnawing truth that’s been buried for so long, clawing its way to the surface.
“Dillon, you with me?” Joshua’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie, forcing myself to focus.
Joshua doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t press. There’s too much happening right now for him to dig into whatever’s going on in my head, and I’m grateful for that. I’m not ready to deal with it yet.
“We need a plan,” Joshua says, turning back to the group. “We can’t stay here. Those things—whatever the hell they are—will come back.”
Matt’s shaking his head, his eyes wide with panic. “We’re safe here, right? If we stay together, they won’t—”
“We’re not safe anywhere,” Joshua snaps, cutting him off. “If we don’t find the others and get the hell out of this fog, we’re sitting ducks.”
I nod, even though my stomach is in knots. Joshua’s right. We need to move. We need to get the rest of the group and figure out what the hell is happening.
But even as we prepare to head back out into the fog, my thoughts keep circling back to Joshua. To the way he moves, the way he thinks, the way he doesn’t back down even when the world’s falling apart around him.
And I hate that part of me, the part that’s drawn to him, even now. Especially now. Because it means that something in me is changing, something I’ve been avoiding for far too long.
We move out as a group, sticking close, but my thoughts are far from the fog and the shadows. They’re on Joshua. They’re on the uncomfortable realization that maybe, just maybe, I’m not the person I thought I was.
And maybe, just maybe, Joshua is part of the reason why.
We push forward, back into the mist, the whispers in the fog growing louder as we go. The shadows move again, creeping closer, but I don’t feel the same terror as before. Now, there’s something else under my skin—something more confusing, more unsettling.
I glance at Joshua, and he’s already looking at me. It’s just for a moment, but it feels like an eternity.
We’ve both changed in ways we don’t fully understand. And whatever’s out there in the fog? It’s not the only thing we’re running from.
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