Friendship Is Not Dead. It Is Undead. // a DreamNotNap fanfiction

Part 2: Unfinished Business

**content warning: contains discussions of suicide**

***

In less serious circumstances, Sapnap might have grumbled about the unpleasant experience of living on the apartment complex's ground level. However, tonight's circumstances are not normal ones. He might not know George, but this dead man is scaring his friend.

A rush of protectiveness floods Sapnap's body. With a ferocious expression that masks his terror, he rolls up his sleeves and storms toward the window where the corpse waits. He is about to snarl, close the curtains, and threaten to call the police... until the stranger reacts.

Wordlessly George raises one hand, which clutches Sapnap's lost smartphone. Completely unfazed by the other man's rage, he explains curtly, "You dropped this."

"My phone?" Blinking fast, Sapnap pauses with a confusing rush of relief that his phone is not lost. The anger leaves his body with jarring abruptness, leaving only uncertainty behind. "Why did you bring it back?"

"I don't know, but the experience wasn't enjoyable," George huffs dryly. He moves to stand outside the open window's mesh screen so the two roommates can hear his hoarse voice more clearly. "I hate doing cardio."

"How did you know where we lived?" Sapnap questions.

"Dream told me," George shrugs, tilting his head toward the forensic pathologist trainee. "He said that his bed is soft."

Dream stands from his chair at the sound of his name, but he is reluctant to approach.

"How do you know Dream?" Although he now believes his friend's story about George, the man who is definitely dead, Sapnap does not want to fall for any tricks.

"He talked to me."

"What did he say?" Sapnap interrogates.

George pauses, then he admits, "I don't remember. My head hurts."

"Because your skull is broken inside your head," Dream breathes. Emerging from his disbelieving stupor, he approaches the window cautiously and recites, "Blunt force trauma, paralysis, brain damage, and drowning. Those were your causes of death, but you - you're walking. You're saying things." Helplessly he glances between Sapnap and George. "How are you walking and saying things?"

This time George does not answer at all. Perhaps he does not know, either. That was why he left the research building: to seek help. He should not be dead, but he should not be alive, either. Instead of providing an explanation, George asks, "What day is it?"

"May 4th," Sapnap answers warily. "Why?"

"It's been four days?" George gapes with shock. He blinks quickly as he processes the information, then he acknowledges, "I guess that makes sense, actually. While I was asleep, I felt like time was passing, but I wasn't sure."

"Don't people lock the research building after it closes?" Sapnap turns to Dream, who nods. "How did you get out?"

"I used the emergency stairwell," George answers plaintively. He raises a dubious eyebrow, as if the explanation is obvious.

"Wouldn't the alarm have gone off, though?"

"Not after closing hours," Dream shakes his head. "The emergency exit doors only open from the inside, and once the building is supposed to be empty, the alarms are turned off." Then, while he speaks, he generates a question of his own. Leaning to peer out the window's mesh screen, he asks shyly, "But then, you could have gone anywhere. Why did you follow me? Why didn't you - I don't know - go back to the bridge? Or walked into the street?"