Inception {Dreamnotfound}

22 | Beautiful Disasters | 22

-George's POV-

I stare blankly at the ceiling, trying to do something, anything, except look back at the opposite corner.

Moving locations wasn't exactly an option after Tubbo's disappearance, so we were forced to stay in the same camp we were attacked in. To return to the very same room, which meant dealing with the aftermath of said attack, a task which has proven harder than I anticipated.

It's so hard to forget it.

Impossible, really, when scenes of it are still scorched into my head, meaning the blanket covering the mess Clay was unable to get out of the floorboards may as well not be there. Almost like it's invisible, when I'm left trying to ingrain into my mind that I won't be able to see it if I look, but it doesn't feel that way at all. That knowledge does nothing to comfort me, not when I can picture enough without a single glance back.

Even though the body isn't there anymore, it feels like it is.

In frustration I screw my eyes shut, trying to focus on the searing flashes of white and grey and everything else that is so, so far from red, but can't help reminding me of it. I've never understood why of all things that I could remember, it would be things like this, but I find myself appreciating it anyway, no matter how gruesome the images are.

It has to be better than the amnesia.

Thankfully, my thoughts are quickly interrupted by someone. They knock timidly from outside and wait for a response before opening the door, a gesture I find sweet when I'm certain that I know who it is already. I'm sure they must be aware of that too, but still choose to knock after what happened. It's left all of us on edge even days later, so we've all been more cautious of surprising each other.

"Again, I was joking," I sigh as Clay enters, fumbling with the collection of flowers in his hand as he tries to close the door behind him. "Well, you should've known better than to suggest it to me in the first place," he wheezes, sticking his tongue out childishly as he resorts to kicking the door shut with his foot.

I manage to yell an apology just before the slamming noise shakes the walls, earning a scream from one room and a string of curses from another.

"Sweet of you to warn me, but you have to do the same for everyone else," I mutter bitterly, shooting Clay a glare. Though my anger doesn't last long when a characteristic "language!" is yelled after the swearing, causing us all to laugh instead.

I hastily pull bunches of flowers out of Clay's hands while he wheezes, attempting to flatten out the petals of barely salvageable ones and throwing long-crushed ones away. Clay seems to take a liking to them anyway, letting me take the remining flowers from him before scooping the pile of deader ones into his arms.

He picks out what looks like a white lily, pulling the already torn petals from the stem. I have half a mind to complain about the pollen cloud he's creating before karma strikes instead, leaving Clay a spluttering mess.

"Not your wisest decision," I smirk, unable to tear the smile from my lips even after I start choking too. "It's always surprised me how someone people are so scared of, and claim is so smart can be so incredibly stupid."

Clay doesn't bother protesting, too busy joyfully destroying the flowers in his hands to spare a thought to my insults. I stare at the flowers in my own, sifting through a few before one in particular catches my eye.