Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

XLIX

// Art by @nnnn29968091 on Twitter //

The cleanup wasn't hard. They put their clothes back on, made sure the coast was clear, and scampered to the nearest bathroom. Nobody gave them any trouble. Most everyone was still in the reception room, going through peoples' eulogies and conversing about how heartbreaking the whole situation was. Dream hoped they'd been forgotten for the moment.

They washed their hands, straightened their hair, dabbed at their steamy skin with paper towels. George was walking funny, so Dream had to correct him on that. He held a cold, wet paper towel over a red mark on his neck, but soon realized it wasn't helping. George helped him position his collar so it was hidden.

"How are we supposed to play this off?" George asked while raking hands through his hair in the bathroom, eyes locked on his reflection, trying to make himself look presentable. "Grace and Taylor are observant. And our faces are still red."

"I don't know," Dream replied in a sigh, patting at his hairline with a damp towel. "We gotta come up with something, or they're going to know."

George paused, biting his cheek with eyes still trained on the mirror. They were both silent for a minute or so until George hummed in thought, and Dream looked to see look of revelation slowly melting onto his face. "Hear me out," he said, dragging his gaze from the mirror to look at Dream. "I have an idea."

Dream pushed through the heavy door, entering a room full of people conversing in groups, for the most part not paying him any mind. Instantly the scent of cooking food washed over him, and he inhaled deeply, stomach growling. He hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Dream scanned the crowd until he spotted Grace, standing with Ethan and a few other people he didn't recognize. He saw Taylor, too, but she wasn't in the same conversation as them. He walked over to Grace, wearing a face lined with frustration. Teeth clenched, lips pursed, shoulders taut. All subtly, of course. He knew just these little hints would be enough to let her know that he was frustrated.

As he approached, she broke away from the conversation and turned to him, eyes wide. She looked concerned; a little annoyed, even. "Where have you been?" Grace asked, stepping away from everyone else to talk quietly with him. Dream crossed his arms. "You guys missed half the funeral!"

"Sorry," Dream said apologetically. "George and I were talking."

Grace regarded him with confusion. She took in his uptight stance, deadpan expression and flushed cheeks. "You've been gone for twenty minutes," she said.

"It was a long talk."

Grace's confused expression slowly melted into one of realization. "Were you arguing?" She asked hesitantly.

Dream blinked at her. "No," he said indecisively. "Not... arguing," he added. "Just... talking."

Grace raised her eyebrows doubtfully. "What about?"

Dream sighed. "Well, he was saying that... everybody here was judging him. And he was worried that nobody understood what he was trying to say during his speech," he explained. That wasn't entirely a lie.

Grace stared at him. "Is that it?" She asked flatly. "You really expect me to believe that?"

"Well... he also said that he didn't want to be here. And I told him that he needs to be. And we went back and forth about that for a while, which he wasn't too happy about." Dream paused, trying to remember what else George told him to say. "And he said I wasn't listening, and I told him I was. He's really strung up, you know. This whole funeral is really hard on him."

Grace listened quietly before slowly nodding when he finished. "Yeah, I know it is," she sighed, blinking and looking away thoughtfully. She stood quietly for a moment before adding, "He's got his own way of dealing with things. He pushes people away." Dream held a nonchalant expression, though inwardly he was celebrating. She took it. She thinks we were arguing instead of... well, what we were actually doing.