Stealth. (FtM Karl)

You're okay (:

Ayo chapter number 69 ;)

Sapnaps pov:
After last period, I walked to Bad's house, messaging him first so not to turn up unannounced. But Dream didn't know yet.
I knocked on the door and Bad let me in.
He had agreed that Dream was acting a bit off these past few days, he actually was the one to insist that I come over and check on him.

Watching throughout the day, mainly at lunch and during band practice, it was apparent that Dream was definitely somewhere else. He was very... glum. He was very quiet, hardly even spoke at all yesterday. Usually he was constantly talking, joking, chipper; overall just a very bouncy, bubbly kind of guy.
This was very odd behaviour for him.

'Actually the last time I can remember that we was acting similar to this was...' I froze, 'shit'.

Dreams pov:
I held my mask in my hand, staring at the hand drawn smile that blandly decorated it. My hands tense; I wanted to snap it in half.
In my head it seemed so appealing, maybe it would satisfy this dark feeling bubbling up within me in the moment. It was overwhelming. I can't understand what that feeling is, but it makes me want to scream and yell and break something.
Anything.

Throw a vase and hear it smash. The noise is so satisfying. I don't own a vase, but my mask was the closest thing that seemed replaceable.
I had spare of course.

I tried my hardest to push that thought away, causing my hands to tremble slightly, agitated and uncomfortable, that feeling never leaving just ignored. I looked at the reflection ahead of me, that is how it had started, that's how I reached this stage.

I hate it. My face. A statement that is common amongst billions of people, and mostly taken lightly. But for me? Genuinely. I despise my face. It enrages me. I don't mean 'hate' as in: I'm upset that it doesn't look how I wished it would. Or, I think it's ugly. Or that maybe one common aspect of it doesn't please me.

No. I mean the huge scar that constantly reminds me that I will always be a burden to others.
I was only 13 when the incident took place, it was stupid for me to think that coming out as Bi to my homophobic parents would go well. Especially since I already knew they were abusive.
And then after that? I was at the hospital with Sapnap waiting for me to recover, the only friend I've ever had till I moved schools and met Wilbur, I stayed with Nick for a few years.
Later on, at the age of 15, I had met Bad who's parents insisted I stay with them since they had spare rooms.
Burden, burden burden, burden, burden.

Always a burden.
Burden to my parents, burden to Sapnaps family, burden to Bad and his family, now once again I am just a burden.
I knew I was doing a terrible job at seeming okay. Those dreams- well, nightmares, are all I have been thinking about lately, they have happened two nights in a row but...
They just felt way too real.

Ever since I left, I hadn't actually thought about the incident, I ignored everything that had happened. I didn't want to challenge my original perspective, become absorbed into a world of my own memories; honestly, for a while, I'm almost certain that my mind had blocked those memories. I just couldn't seem to remember a long period of my life for a while.
But these dreams, they've brought them back.
I want them gone.

Crack

Just fucking great. How convenient.
I didn't need to look to know exactly what that was.
But I looked down anyway, at the mask in my hands, unevenly cracked, a huge chunk of it missing, and a huge crack diagonal round the bottom half.

A sudden wave of anger over took me, that feeling returning at full throttle, and I thrusted my knee up, slamming the mask on top of it to finish what felt like half a job.
I threw the few pieces of what used to be a mask against the floor.

I pulled my hand up to my hair and tugged at large clumps on either side. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry. So why were there no tears?
It just annoyed me more.
I wanted to cry. Maybe it would help? Maybe I would feel better if I just... cried?

I heard the door open. I didn't quite catch on as quickly as I could've, I hardly even processed it till I heard a voice. One of the few voices I wanted to hear at this time.

"Dream..."

Sapnaps pov:
I jogged up the stairs and made my way over to Dreams room where u heard a loud thud, something falling or perhaps being thrown? It didn't sound very big so I'm certain it wasn't Dream falling thank god.

I carefully twisted the knob and opened the door a crack to see the boy stood, hunched over slightly as his hands gripped large chunks of hair, in front of his mirror.
His mask in three pieces, scattered to the side of the room on the floor. Probably what I had heard before.

"Dream..." I murmured.

The boy flinched, but he was only startled. He raised his head and dropped his hands down from his head, shaking. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to try and play it off, act cool, say he was fine.
But his hands found his way to his arms and he half folded them before walking slightly closer to me.

This was like a secret language between us, ever since we were kids, more often after the incident.
I knew what it meant.

I walked over and immediately wrapped my arms around him, embracing the boy in a hug.

He was never the one to hug first, he could never initiate any sort of physical interaction like that. He always felt like he would be burdening the other if he did.
So I was always the one to do so.
I assume it all stems from the toxic masculinity of his previous household; lies such as that it wasn't manly to cry, that men can't feel emotions because it made them weak.
It quite honestly made me sick.
I just wish I knew about just how bad his parents where before the incident, maybe I could've prevented it somehow.

It's not long after I initiate the hug that his arms unfold and he hugs back, relaxing. But he doesn't cry. He never does, I've never seen it and I've seen him at his worst.
I've seen his eyes well up with tears, but I've never seen them fall.
The boy had been broken down to nothing and built back up to be his parents ideal son, only for him to have other plans.
Of course, a lot of stuff sticks, regardless of what you do to try and stop it.

I kind of just hug his waist since he's taller than me, has been for years now.
I've learned that I just need to be patient, he speaks when he is ready.

"I'm sorry." We're the words he ended up mumbling.
"You never have to be sorry for wanting a hug." I reply, patting his back a bit, "are you going to tell me what's been going on?"
He's much more relaxed by now, but won't separate from the hug, this behaviour is normal, he worries that if he lets go then it'll all go back to the way it was before.
"Just nightmares." He vaguely states.
Based off of how he's been acting since yesterday, it is implied that these dreams relate back to the incident 3-4 years ago. The behaviour is similar to how he acted in the hospital and the first couple of months that he lived with me. Really, it stopped after Bad made him that mask.
"Do you want to talk about them?" I ask. It's foolish really, to ask him such things when the answer is already so predictable.
"No, it's okay." He responds, even though, based off of this whole past 5 minutes, he is definitely not okay.
"Alright."