yellow sticky note//dreamnotfound

chapter 36

i've had a few comments on the topic of, "are you okay" type things when i mention some sad parts of the story. idk if i've said this but this is my vent story and this is how i cope. i've gotten comments telling me "that's not how it works" this is based off of my experience with self harm/suicidal topics, and manipulation. i know what i'm doing so please don't try and correct me. thank you.

george scouted for the white charger that is usually on his nightstand.

he spotted it, covered by a few things like blankets and glass.

now he needed an outlet, which was also most likely covered up.

george tossed a few things that were against the wall so he could locate it.

as soon as it was uncovered, he plugged in his phone, revealing the battery sign.

he set the phone onto the floor, deciding on what to do now.

all of this sucked and he knew this was a bad idea.

carter stumbled into the room, running his fingers through his hair.

"hey i'm sorry about earlier, i've just been different ever since you left," carter shrugged.

george couldn't help but feel bad.

"it's okay i get it," the brunette smiled.

george tucked his phone under a few blankets with his foot, hoping carter wouldn't see him do it.

—

dream pov

dream sat there glancing at the screen.

no reply from george.

he began to grow worried, what if carter hurts him?

dream slammed his fist into the wall, he watched as a hole began to form after each punch.

it hurt him realizing there was no shoulder to cry on.

there was nothing.

just his hand and the grey wall.

he wanted to scream, and cry.

but there was no use.

and there was no george, that was what truly made his stomach flip.

dream tumbled to the floor as every punch made his dizzy, sending him down.

a mess.

what a fucking mess he was.

it was one day without him.

one day.

dream looked over at the bed.

the bed that used to hold two.

if sapnap wasn't gonna help him then maybe a drink or two could.

he winced at his now bloody knuckles, wiping them off on his pants.

he shuffled through the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, cracking the top off on the counter harshly.

he brought the cold rim to his soft lips, letting the fluid flow through his throat.

giving him a numbing feeling that sent shivers down his spine.

dream tapped his fingers on the marble top, scraping off dried brownie mix.

his heart ached as he pulled his hand away, looking around the rest of the of the apartment.

it was weird.

going back to how it used to be.

the silence, the nothing.

he was so tired of constantly dealing with everything against him.

and he had realized george was his medicine.

george was the only one that he felt healed by.

but once you are taken off of the medication, it flips.

sickness. is what it was.

because you're not used to feeling this way.

you're not used to the loss.

the loss that made your head hurt, and your chest ache.

dream twisted george's ring off of his finger, and placed it on the counter, throwing the now empty bottle on the ground, letting it shatter, as his heart played along with it.