When Dreams Turn into Nightmares [DREAMNOTFOUND ANGST]

Chapter 9

George's pov

"George, I think your phone's ringing." I sit up with a groan, and look over to my phone. Without hesitation, I pick it up and answer the call.

"Hello, this is the CPI." My eyes go wide.

No.

"We are sorry to inform you that-"

No- No. What the fuck do they want. I know Sapnap has it already, what else could they possibly say. Is it Bad? Skeppy? A wrong number? Who could it even-

"Nick Armstrong committed suicide in his room last night."

I drop my phone, and go completely pale. Immediately I start violently shaking, unable to stop. A tear falls down my cheek

Why- why would he do this. My best friend. I thought everything was okay. I never once in my life thought about him in that way.

I think back to what I told him. "What do you fucking think?! You couldn't even understand the amount of pain I had to go through. The only thing you lost was a fucking animal. Be lucky you still have all of your family." Now I realize that means when I said that- they had it, they died. He never told me. Why. Why does life fucking hate me.

I start to sob quietly, soon turning into loud cries. I barely feel Dream putting a hand on my shoulder.

"G-George?" I turn around and fall into his arms, I can't stop crying, I don't think I ever will. Dream rubs my back gently, and I just cry harder. Eventually I calm down a bit, running out of tears. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" He picks up the phone, and immediately notices the number. "Oh my God-"

"Hit 3." I very quietly cut him off.

"What?"

"Hit 3, on the number pad. It'll replay the message." I then hear a beep, and the message starts to repeat. I'm holding onto Dream like my life depends on it.

"Hello, this is the CPI. We are sorry to inform you that Nick Armstrong has committed suicide in his room last night-" I tighten my grip. He gasps at the message. "The cause of his death was blood loss, we will not go into much detail as it isn't something worth mentioning." Dream sat there in shock, and hugged me back.

"I- I'm so sorry-" I hear a small sniffle come from him, along with a sob. "How would they even know he did??? Unless they saw it happen." He clinched his first. "Those mother fuckers saw it, didn't they. They didn't stop him. Selfish pricks." His head drops on to mine. "I'm just- so sorry- I-I shouldn't have said anything."

"I-it's okay." He cries for a second.

"George, you don't have to lie. I'm sorry you have to see me like this- I'm supposed to help- but-" I comferly shush him.

"No, it's okay, really. You did nothing but help. I'm so thankful to have you, Dream." He relaxes his shoulders, and we stay in a hug. I tried to stay strong, and not think about it, but the thoughts kept coming back. Soon we were both filling the silence with small cries in each others arms.

Dreams pov

When I heard the message, my heart stopped. I didn't mean to make George listen to it again. Sapnap was so nice- such a good person. I know especially from what he told me straight up. He helped me.

I can't even imagine how George feels right now. His friend, his best friend. Dead.

Not even any normal expected death, but suicide.

Why didn't he just tell us about it instead of- that. What if it was because I was there. What if he couldn't talk to George because of me.

I lightly cry into George, I wish I didn't show this side of me. I wanted to make sure he felt happy again, but I'm just making it worse.

I hope you're happier now than you were Sapnap, no one deserves, or really wants death. Everything would've gotten better, eventually.

Haven't known you for long, but I'll always remember. And always think of that when I myself tries to stop it.

Georges pov

Eventually, we had separate because I needed to go to the bathroom. The second I step inside, I think about letting it all out again, but I can't, I ran out of tears. After doing my business, I blow my nose and look in the mirror. "What have I become." I stare at my reflection, my eye bags, my messy hair, my swollen eyes, I look awful.

This is never going to get better.

"George, are you doing okay in there?"

I look down at the razor blade on the sink. "Hello?" I pick it up, and hold it in my hand facing the mirror. I back up against the wall, slowly falling down it until I reach the floor. One last tear falls down my cheek.

I hold it to my wrist.

836 words