[(early) kinda sorta mental: holly/noah.]
[Gunshots. There had been gunshots. So many fucking gunshots, and Holly had been working late. Already tired, and heading up the stairs, and an explosion shook the fucking floor beneath his feet. Holly wasn't brave, okay? He wasn't. And he fucking panicked. Panic, like the world closing in and going black, starbursts, and then the gunshots began. It was so fucking loud. He'd heard one, two, maybe three at a time during training, but this? Was a madhouse. Gunshots. Everywhere, everywhere, there were fucking gunshots, and he caught a glimpse of black and smoke and then the pain came. He didn't even know what had happened. No fucking clue, none, but it was hard enough to propel him forward and onto his knees, coming down hard and bracing a hand on the ground. People around him were running, but the entire fucking world went red with agonizing pain when his hand hit the ground. Blood soaked his sleeve and dripped on the ground, and he vomited on his hand. But the gunshots? Were still hailing, and he crawled he few feet to an overturned desk and curled himself inside it. His breathing was hard, shallow, and god, fucking god, and he didn't wanna die here. There was a moment, a moment of blackness as his shoulder met with the back of the desk in his cramped space, and around him? Chaos. And he wasn't deliberately thinking at Noah, but he was thinking about the guy, about how he didn't want to die now, and then he tried to reach for his phone with sticky fingers.]