oneshots

dwt - the aftermath of a breakup

ANGST
MOSTLY IRL
SET DURING SPRING 2020
TWS: NONE (i think, lmk if i'm wrong)
X OC
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author's note

hi i hope y'all like this
trying something new let's
hope it's swag 😫🤞
also- i'm not sure whether
dream is ok with me using
his irl name in this so i'm
just gonna refer to him
as dream 👍
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It's been 23 days since Dream and I broke up.

Our love was sweet, but short. Feels like it lasted centuries and yet seconds at the same time.

When it's centuries, I can close my eyes and see his, sparkling emerald, full of laughter and kindness. A white tank top made of a scratchy material rubs against my cheek. His inhales and exhales match with mine. Our embrace is my favourite place. Grins flutter through the air with the grace of a butterfly. I reach out, grab one, and pull it close to me. I cherish that creature of joy. I cannot ever let it go.

When it's seconds, yells of protest and wails of pain ricochet around my skull. My hands clamp over my ears. Arguments are amplified, petty disagreements now seem to be World War III. Insults they didn't mean, (or did they?) hurled through the air. Each is a stab in my gut. Rubbing salt in the wounds are empty stretches of silence in between fights. Words aren't enough, and even if they were then, they certainly aren't now. The coldness of an unoccupied side of the bed causes shivers down my spine. Love a crumpled paper bag tossed to the side, a heartbreaking crunch as feet stampede over it.

I prefer when it feels like centuries, for obvious reasons.

552 hours since compliments were murmured into my dark brown curls, remarks on it's scent of sweet coconut. My hair was always something I've been insecure about. Unruly, frizzy, and sometimes a complete mess, I never wanted someone to pay too much attention to it, much less comment on it. Dream was different. At first, when I let my hair out of it's tight coils, I avoided his gaze. Hid behind measly excuses that I was busy and didn't have time to hang out. Then, a random burst of confidence pushed my finger on the 'send' button, messaging him a selfie, highlighting my hair in all it's glory.

His response was immediate and almost brought tears to my eyes, relief and happiness surging through my body. That's how I knew what we had was real.

Correction- that's how I thought what we had was real.

If what we had was real, I wouldn't be skimming through our old text conversations. I wouldn't be stopping at his reply to the photo. I wouldn't be soaking in his words of affection. I wouldn't be savoring the blush that stains my cheeks every goddamn time my brain processes the unmeasurable comfort that series of texts gave me.

DREAM
omggg

you're literally a goddess

i bow down 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️

is it legal to be that angelic 🤨

bouta call the cops on you 😳 📞