When Glass Skies were Beautiful (DNF)

Chapter 5: Green Band-aids

       I unfocusedly gaze at the paper in front of me. I wonder how many papers it would take for my discharge from the hospital. I poke at the blank page, which shows different emotions and our responses to them in idiotic cartoon faces. We're supposed to color them, but I genuinely didn't understand the point. I suspected that they were only there to pass the time. 

Tommy, who had been in the hall at a table since early this morning, waves at me energetically from across the room. I smile and wave back. Tommy turns, then uses rapid sign language at one of the kids at his table, who's dressed in reindeer pajamas. I recognize him as Callahan, who hasn't spoken a word since he was born. On his first day at the hospital, Tommy insulted him, and Callahan did sign-language back. Tommy, confused, thought Callahan was funny, and took him under his wing. Since then, the two were always seated at the same table, usually with Tubbo. I shake my head and smile as Callahan separates an argument between Tommy and Tubbo about coloring markers. I barely hear Dream sneak up on me. 

I turn around too late, Dream's face inches away from mine. I jump, hitting my knees on the table, glaring at him. "Good morning to you, too," he says, smirking. "It's not a very good morning since you woke up," I growl back. "Okay, fine. Sorry," he says quickly. As he starts talking about the schedule for today, I notice something on his arm, underneath his gown, as he gestures with his hands while talking. A flash of green meets. Another one. I continue to stare, stopping Dream mid-sentence. "...We're supposed to go to the therapy office today, individually, but--oh." He notices me staring at his arms. Silently, he pushes up his gown sleeves. 

Green band-aids, around ten on each arm, stare back at me. Dark circles, which look like scars, are scattered in random places around some of the band-aids. "How did you get those?" I ask. Dream is silent. "..I mean, if you're, you know, comfortable..." I falter. He sighs. "Better to tell you now than later." With a quick hand, he rips one of the band-aids off. I flinch. Underneath, an angry dark red circle, much like the circle scars, lays on his skin. He doesn't respond, and tapes the band-aid back on quickly. "Did...did someone do that to you?" I say tentatively. Dream pauses. "No," he says finally. He doesn't seem to want to talk about the marks anymore. Changing the subject, he starts talking about the staff, and possible escape routes. I nod, lost in thought, still wondering about the angry red spots. 

       As I'm walking back from group therapy, I sit down at our table. Dream doesn't look up as I come in, wrapped up in a picture he's painting. A paintbrush is in his hand. I look at the paper he's painting on. A tan blob, which has a white bandana and black hair, stands by a house. A small four-legged figure sits next to it, with devil-horns and strange lines coming out if a triangle on its face. I stare in confusion. Dream looks up, noticing me standing there. "It's Sapnap," he says after a minute. I look again, then say, "is that a...person?" He nods. "Is he..." I gulp, "...special to you? Are you close? And what's that thing?" I point at the creature. Dream starts laughing. "It's my cat, Patches. Am I that bad of an artist?" he says, eyes sparkling from laughter. "His real name's not Sapnap, that's just what I call him. He's my best friend." He must have noticed my expression, because he explains. "I've known him since I was a kid. We're like brothers." I nod, feeling strangely relieved. He gestures to the paint and I sit next to him, grabbing a paintbrush and paper. I stare at the white blankness, unsure of what to paint. Dreamily, I dip my paintbrush in the blue paint, then cover the paper in light blue ink.

After a while, I feel a pair of eyes watching me. Dream is staring at my paper. I stop breathing, holding my paintbrush in midair, then my nerves cause me to accidentally flick my paintbrush. I open my eyes, since I squeezed them shut on instinct. I see my paper, relieved that nothing was splattered. I look over at Dream. He stares back at me, covered in large flecks of blue. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to suppress a laugh, but fail and start to giggle uncontrollably. Dream still looks shocked, then a lopsided, mischievous grin spreads across his face.