Shatter

Chapter 1

The storm hit the open windows with destructive force, the shutters in the hands of the wind were like toys and beat one against the other. Fairies of the sky started to dance, moving so lightly and jumping with grace from pirouette to collapsing on to the azure, contrasting thunders serving as the lights for the performers, displaying the vigorous show.

Nick closed the windows tightly, pressed his forehead against the glass wet from the drops and began to admire the performance that was happening on the other side of the window. Rare bitter tears flowed down his cheeks, but there was no one to calm him down and this only made it worse, the pain accumulated inside and poisoned him. His lover was nowhere to be seen, only happy giggles and victorious shouts came from upstairs. He ran his finger over the fogged glass, remembering when he was the cause of his laughter, when he looked into sparkling eyes and drank happy smiles.

The younger one was curious if storm could remember the happy times in which it was their companion, their friend. He felt so insanely alone in his own home and with devastating sadness recalled the times when he felt safe and in his place, remembered the warm hand on his hand and the cold endless ocean ahead. He hugged himself, looking for any sort of comfort, while he buried himself in an endless pit of regrets and searching for the reasons and branching paths that led them, him, to such a deplorable end.

Could he be happy right now, playing around with friends? He liked to think so, but the wistful voice in his head reminded him that he was always the third, always the second choice. At one time it seemed to him that the moment had come when everything began to get better. He couldn't believe it when his old crush asked him out. He was in the spotlight. He was the center of attention. He was seen, loved and cared for. Awkward skin-to-skin touches and light hugs of infinitely tender hands slowly turned into passionate kisses, and these same hands made their way through a warm body full of insecurities, which the older boy kissed away, petting after petting. Clay used to make him feel protected, he blossomed in a new confidence, knowing that if anything happens, he would find his way into a warm bed with a golden haired boy, who a warm bed with a golden-haired boy who would take off his shirt and let the Texan lie on his chest. Sapnap would have heard the steady beating of his heart and felt strong hands squeezing his waist, and fingers sliding over his hand, drawing ornate patterns with an unearthly touch. The affection that Dream gave him at these moments made his heart flutter. In the end, the elder made a promise. No matter what, I will always be there for you.

It was astonishing, and all he prayed for was to not lose him.

His lover.

His safety.

His biggest weakness.

Because the scariest part of love is that you are absolutely vulnerable to your dearest, and the person who makes your heart beat is the one who can make it go through such torments and agony that are tens and hundreds of times greater than all the happy moments that you have lived together. They say the bad is forgotten, but honestly, the good is forgotten faster, it is drowned in pain and you get bogged down in an endless swamp of suffering and self-hatred.

The shelter for the poor boy was a narrow and insanely uncomfortable windowsill and endless tears mixed with the darkness of the night. And Nick knew that he should look for another asylum, or perhaps make one himself, but the boy with aquamarine eyes was actually like the ocean. Scary and deadly, but, oh dear, so beautiful that once you are in it, whirled in endless waves and found yourself far from the shore, it is almost impossible to safely return to earth. The whirlpool that took you unimaginably far has already taught you how to dance and breathe underwater, you have already felt what it feels like to be loved, and the air without the fragrance of his delicate cologne was like a poisonous one that caused aching pain in Sapnap's lungs.

And the nightmare came true, the addict lost his drug. Having tasted heaven, Nick went back to hell, he was greeted by previously hated loneliness, and the fire around him made him stupid, susceptible to any ideas that could return him to a state of euphoria. And so, with the devil just by his side, he wiped away his tears and walked up the stairs step by step. He felt oppressive heaviness, and these few minutes of walking seemed like Sisyphean labor, because he did not see progress, his knees buckled and for every tiny step forward he took three steps back. He would have withdrawn and felt sorry for himself further, but maybe the memories of the time spent in hopelessness forced him to do something that he would not have dared in any other situation. He found himself knocking on Clay's door.

Maybe Dream took his words seriously.

Maybe it was just a bad phase.

Sapnap wanted to believe it.

He wanted it to be just a misunderstanding, a few tears, a quarrel that would turn into the usual hugs in bed a little later.

He will understand, just take one single step forward and he will be there for you. Nick was trying to find the courage, the strength in his body that would allow him to open the doors. I made him look like a monster. He was a good guy. He would never hurt me.

I should be sorry that I dared to think about him in such a way.

He looked at the polaroid photo of them dancing. It was still the same person.

Right?