Hate you - DNF/Karlnap

9

TW - gun, panic attack, mentions of death and homophobia, knife, blood
CW - swearing, sexual innuendo

GEORGE -

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I hurried down the street, my hands deep in my hoodie pocket, my mind reeling. I was getting too comfortable around Dream, I'd allowed myself to slip up and it had almost cost me my cover. He was getting to me. He was practically the same as five years ago. His stupid voice, his stupid laugh, his stupid hair, his stupid eyes and his stupid, gorgeous smile.

I could feel myself beginning to panic, my heart rate quickening. I didn't know where to go, my head was spinning. I stumbled around the streets, desperately clawing my thoughts for somewhere to go. Then it came to me. I practically sprinted towards Sapnap and Quackity's apartment as I panicked more and more and my thoughts started strangling my ability to breath properly.

I knocked loudly. A few seconds later Quackity appeared at the door, one hand behind his back, clearly holding a gun.
"Put the gun away, idiot," I snapped through my sparse breath as I barged into the apartment. Quackity scoffed from behind me and I heard him storing the gun in a safe disguised as a kitchen drawer.
"Why are you here George?" He asked, following me into the living room.

I looked around frantically,
"I need to stab something. Now," My heart was still racing and I still couldn't catch my breath. My head was spinning and I could barely form a coherent thought. Quackity swore under his breathe and stepped closer to me, gently holding his arms out,
"Hey, George, calm down, you're going to be okay," He very carefully pulled me into a hug as I began to sob uncontrollably into his shoulder.

Now listen when I say, when your having a panic attack, crying is difficult. I silently cursed myself as I sobbed and tried to catch my breath at the same time, resulting in me making a noise resembling a chicken being strangled. Quackity didn't laugh at me though. That was the thing about Quackity and Sapnap, they both loved making fun of me but they also knew when to hold back and to just be there for me.

Quackity led me over to the couch and we sat down. He released me from the hug and placed a comforting hand on my arm,
"George, breathe with me, okay? In and out. Do it with me, alright?" Quackity slowly breathed in and I copied him, trying not to burst into another flood of tears. We sat quietly for a while, just breathing, in and out, in and out.

Quackity sighed and smiled. I'd managed to calm down now and my breathing was normal again. Quackity opened his mouth to speak but suddenly two yelling voices erupted from the direction of the bedrooms.
"NO! FUCK YOU! I DON'T CARE THAT CHILDREN WILL HAVE TRAUMA IF YOU'RE NOT THERE!"
Quackity and I shared a look of confusion. That was Sapnap's voice. It was quickly followed by one I'd never heard before.

"IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR CHILDHOOD TRAUMA! MY JOB IS TO PROTECT KIDS, BUDDY!"
Quackity let out a laugh that seemed to be both amused and stressed. Sapnap got impossibly louder.
"DO I LOOK LIKE A GIVE A FLYING FUCK? I HAVE ORDERS TO KEEP YOU HERE, SO YOU'RE STAYING! BUDDY!"
"I'M NOT STAYING! MY FRIENDS WILL SAVE ME SOON! BUDDY!"
"YOU'RE FRIENDS WON'T DO JACK SHIT! BUDDY!"
"STOP CALLING ME BUDDY!"
"YOU STARTED IT!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK YOU TOO!"

A door slammed loudly and we heard the click of it being locked. A few moments later, Sapnap stormed into the room, looking pissed.
"I take it the hostage isn't enjoying his time here?" Quackity asked calmly, leaning back, his hands behind his head. Sapnap clenched his fists.
"No. He isn't. I'm not either," Sapnap ran a stressed hand through his hair.

"Maybe if you were nicer to him, he wouldn't be such a pain," I drawled, grinning as Sapnap's gaze flickered up in surprise.
"George? What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked, a grin replacing his surprise.
"I'm here to stab something," I got to my feet, looking around.
"You can stab Jacobs if you want?" Sapnap offered hopefully.

"Who?" I raised an eyebrow as Quackity started giggling.
"Karl Jacobs. Sapnap's buddy," Quackity said and I started laughing too. Sapnap grabbed a large knife from the kitchen and pointed it at us,
"He's not my buddy. He's a pain in my ass," Sapnap glared at us. Quackity burst out laughing,
"Are you sure you're not the pain in his-"
"Shut the fuck up Quackity!"

Quackity and I collapsed in a fit of giggles as Sapnap threw the knife across the room, where it planted itself in the window frame. Quackity stopped laughing,
"Stop destroying my house, asshole. We've already replaced the window twice and we've only been here a day!" Quackity pulled the knife out of the window frame and handed it to me, "Go and stab shit. The training room is over there," He pointed in the direction of a black metal door. I nodded and thanked him.

Once I was inside the training room, which was luckily sound proof, I let out a yell of frustration and sadness. I threw the stupid knife across the room, directly into the centre of one of the targets. I walked over to the display of weapons and surveyed my choices. I eventually settled on a handful of throwing knives. I gathered them up and made my way towards the targets shaped like humans.

I imagined I was looking at my parents. I could practically hear their voices screaming abuse at me, telling me to get a move and on and go to hell. I closed my eyes, letting the horrific memory of that night overwhelm me.

I could hear the yelling, feel a comforting hand on my waist. But the hand slipped away, my father lunged forward, pushing my boyfriend backwards, he fell and his head hit the marble countertop of the kitchen island. Blood. There was so much blood. I screamed and ran to his side, cradling him in my arms, not caring that I was slowly getting covered in his blood. I yelled at my mother and she called an ambulance.

When the paramedics arrived, they hauled him onto a stretcher. I clasped his hand, sobbing uncontrollably. They refused to let me go with them in the ambulance. I begged my dad to drive me to the hospital. Instead he gave me ten minutes to pack a bag and get the fuck out of his house. He wouldn't allow a homosexual to stay under his roof any longer. As far as he and mum were concerned, their son was dead. As far as I was concerned, my parents were dead.

I threw the knife.
It soared across the room and landed right in the heart of the human shaped

Word count - 1163

A/N -
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