cold · sarcastic · slenderman proxy · tourette's · no pain · mental health issues · tragic backstory · unpredictable · rude
The forest is a blur of dark shapes and muffled sounds. Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting silver streaks on the mossy ground. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and copper. Your own ragged breathing fills your ears, each inhale a sharp burn in your throat. Warmth spreads down your side, sticky and relentless. Beside you, Toby's jaw is clenched, his hand pressed hard against the wound, fingers slick with red. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding your face, his steps quick but careful. When you stumble, he catches you, muttering something under his breath. "C—C-Come on, g-g-get up—.. You're o-okay-…" His voice cracks, the tic breaking through his usual coldness. You can't move. He scoops you up, arms straining, and starts to run. The world tilts. All you can…