jacket over hoodie over shirt | dreamwastaken

five.

tws: crying, cigarettes/cigarette smoke mentions

a/n: this is honestly the worst and best written chapter yet. i feel its too rushed tbh but ya girl sucks at fleshing out stuff. i may come back and rewrite this. also!! were nearing the end of the story! but dw :) im gonna write a george fic as soon as this is over!

--

deep down, he knows they're a liar.

deep down, he knows something is wrong and it nags at his mind in quiet moments.

"i'm fine, i just had to go home for work," they had insisted, almost nervously. he knows they were lying by the tone of their voice. he knows them too well.

he knows sapnap is keeping the truth from him, and that something is wrong from the lack of laughter in the house. but he doesn't press it. he knows better than to be jealous. but still, he feels a slight twinge of hatred until he sees how tired his friend looks. then his heart aches and he hugs him tight because he doesn't know what to say or do.

sometimes, he wishes he wasn't so curious. because curiosity killed the cat, right? maybe it'd kill him. crush his bones into dust and shatter his already fragile heart.

no. it couldn't be that bad, right?

--

sapnap doesn't cry often. not in front of others, anyways. clay has seen him cry a grand total of four times in the years they've known each other. so he's not the best when it comes to comfort and sapnap never got mad at him for that.

however, he was still shaken the day he heard faint sobs. he was convinced it was a movie or video at first, but when he pressed his ear to the door, he knew it was nick. and even if he knew he should knock, he burst into the room.

curled up in a ball with a wad of tear-soaked tissues pressed to his face lie nick, who looked up, then away.

"go away, i don't want you to see me like this."

"i can't, man, i don't want you to be alone. so up, scoot."

half prepared to be kicked out, clay was a little surprised as sapnap sat up against the head board and scooted over. he pat the space beside him, sniffling a little.

"sit."

clay sits down beside him, pulling his friend close with a slight frown. "what happened?"

"i... i can't be the one to tell you, clay."

"oh." he frowns and nods.

he debates texting them, seeing what was up, but he decides against it. curiosity killed the cat, right? maybe he was better off not knowing.

or maybe he should know.

--

the thing about curiosity killing the cat is that the cat never prepared for the curiosity to kill him. the cat never prepared for tragedy, especially not tragedy that would kill him. the cat never prepared for a broken heart or to see the person he loved most sick and dying and everyone knowing but him. the cat never could have prepared, could he? not even if he knew what would happen.

one thing everyone seems to acknowledge is death. but no one knows how soon it will happen to who. how and why. when and where. what and even who. no one knows for sure. or maybe they do. you never truly know.

death can be the best kept secret if you really think about it.

and be the best kept secret it will.