broken

eight

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tw- sh mention and blood mention 

( Sapnap's pov )

I stared out of the window, tears threatening to fall down vigorously. I couldn't shake the feeling of fear out of me. I was scared.

I felt like a coward, I needed to be strong.

Flurries of emotions crashed down on top of me, I was going to see Dream.

I had met him once before, last year. I went to his house in Florida and stayed there for a couple of weeks- we ended up deciding against telling anyone, especially George, we didn't want to upset him by not inviting him. I felt bad but Dream was my best friend, I'd known him the longest. I loved George with all my heart, but I couldn't deny that I liked Dream slightly better, it was okay though, I felt like he liked Dream better too. Nevertheless, we were still best friends, he always helped me, and I tried my best to help him. Maybe I didn't try hard enough.

My mind kept bringing up memories of me and Dream, my best friend since I was 11. I'd always had a fear of losing friends, I never really had that many. Even now I only trust a select few. It may be weird but I'm terrified. I'm terrified of not being able to call Dream when I'm crying, not being able to be in his videos, not hearing his stupid wheeze. I'm so, so scared. But I can't do it, I can't be his friend. Every time I've thought of him I picture George, his arms scattered in scars, his forlorn expression ringing inside my brain.

I felt a heavy punch hit my shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Oi kid, ya ain't listening to me. We're here, get out."

I handed him the money and dashed out of the car, slamming the door behind me.

Rude.

The hospital lay in front of me, it was decently large. I found my way to the steps and carefully crept up, opening the door and feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioning. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I made my way to the front desk.

"Hello, how may I help?"

The lady had a thick Irish accent.

"I'm here for George Davidson."

"Ah yes, he was rushed in a couple minutes ago, here take a seat over there and I'll call you up when he's ready for visitors."

The lady smiled politely before nodding to her left, where a couple of rows of seats stood.

I took the hint and made my way over, giving her a forced smile in return.

I sat myself onto the uncomfortable, padded seat and let out a heavy exhale.

The seat was placed on the wall, so instinctively I lounged back.

What if he's not okay? If he's gone and I'm not friends with Dream, who will I have? What would happen then?

My head fell into my hands as my back arched, the tears I had been so desperately holding fell out in a hurry. Even in public, I was alone. I didn't hear dream's iconic wheeze, I didn't hear George's gentle accent, I didn't hear anything.

All I heard were my loud sobs falling out of my throat. So many fell out that I went hoarse. All the bundled up mess dropped down as a wave of guilt rushed over.

What if he didn't make it?

-

( Dream's pov )

I didn't dare to look at Fundy. I didn't like him. We weren't together and we would quite frankly never be. I loved someone else. Someone who wasn't even breathing as of now. My heart longed for the short British boy. The way he smiles as he laughs, the corners of his mouth folding upwards, the way he said my name so carefully and so gently that it made my stomach fold in a million ways. The way he dug his face into the crook of my neck as he searched for comfort. He told me he wasn't okay and I left. What was I expecting? The whole purpose of going over to England was to make sure he was doing fine, and he wasn't, and I ran. I ran like a stupid, fucking coward. I-