Helium | DreamNotFound

Chapter 8: Shatter

The steady rumble of the engine thrums beneath Dream’s shoes. Parked under bright sun in his driveway, he nudges at the console controls while the air-conditioning refuses to show mercy. Light sweat graces his jaw, touched by a warm breeze, as the open windows do little to relieve the heat.

“I’m forgetting something,” he mumbles again. “I am. I know I am.”

“What is taking George so long?” Sapnap asks, sliding down in the passenger seat. Another pair of sunglasses rests over the bridge of his nose, tinted brown; definitely stolen.

Dream sighs. “Dunno.”

“What’d he say when you told him we’d be waiting?”

“Just that he’d be right out,” Dream says, readjusting the ball cap curving over his head. His hair warm beneath the dark canvas. He doesn’t blame George for taking his time inside the cold, refrigerator of a house. “He did seem kind of distracted, though.”

“You think he's nervous?" Sapnap questions, and Dream nods. “Why?”

Dream shrugs, holding a hand over the vents to feel them offer up a chill. “It might have to do with me asking about his—”

The word “camera” is caught right before it slips from Dream’s mouth. Last night after bowls of spaghetti and hours of streaming, George made an offhand comment that he wanted to bring it with them today. When knocking lightly on his door to tell him they’re ready to leave, Dream curiously brought it up again.

Sapnap is still unaware of its existence.

“His what?” Sapnap pushes, having caught Dream’s hesitation immediately. “What does he have?”

Dream hopes one day to be a smarter man, and stop shoving himself in unnecessary dilemmas. He squints at Sapnap as though it’ll minimize it. Answering him could smoothly avoid any issues of George being offended, or kickstart a day of harsh teasing. Perhaps Sapnap is more sensible than George gives him credit for.

“Sapnap,” Dream says slowly, “hey.”

His eyebrows raise, and he sits up attentively. “Oh, okay.”

“I need you to be really serious with me for a second. I’m going to tell you something that is very important to George, and you have to listen carefully. Okay?”

“Um.” Sapnap regards him warily, pushing the sunglasses out of his face. “Sure.”

Dream purses his lips contemplatively, then continues. “Long story short, George has this special camera that he likes to take pictures on and he might be bringing it with—okay. No, no. Get that look off of your face.” He snaps his fingers at Sapnap sharply to dissuade his growing grin. “He’s sensitive about it. Look at me. You have to be nice.”

“He takes pictures?” Sapnap repeats gleefully, his breath dissipating into a laugh.

Dream shoves at his shoulder, which only makes his condition worse. “Stop. Stop getting ideas.”

“Dream.” Sapnap’s voice drops gravely. “Come on. That’s fucking hilarious, you can’t expect me not to—”

They both pause at the sound of the front door slamming shut. Sapnap’s eyes leap to meet his, mouth widening in an overwhelmed stutter of what to say first. Dream angrily steals the sunglasses off his head.

“Not a word,” he threatens in a hiss, pointing the plastic spokes towards Sapnap’s eyeballs. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you dead.”

Sapnap pulls a face at the seriousness in his tone, but leaves him a haze of whether he’ll listen or not. George approaches the car, and Dream tosses him a smile, peacefully withdrawing the glasses to rest in his collar.