head in the clouds

lavender

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Laundry day doesn't quite go as planned.

—

Sunday is laundry day in their household, which automatically also makes it one of Dream's favorite days.

Not just because he enjoys doing laundry, which he does, but also because of the particular smell he associates it with.

It's a clean smell, a nice, comforting smell. Lavender makes him happy in the best way. And more often than not, it also triggers his regression, at least a little bit.

He's not entirely sure why it always makes him feel fuzzy, although it might have something to do with his childhood. Some forgotten memory, or maybe his mom used to use the same detergent when he was a kid. He can't remember.

Regardless, he can't really help it when it happens, and even if he did, he wouldn't want to stop it. Laundry day wouldn't be nearly as much fun if he was big the whole time.

He loves the process of stripping off his bedsheets and getting to use his hands to stuff them in the washing machine. And then, once it's all done, he pulls all the wet, weighty fabric into the other machine to be tumbled dry.

It's hard to say what exactly he finds so enjoyable about it (George and Sapnap have often wondered)—he just thinks it's fun!

All of that being said though... this particular laundry day has not been going his way.

To start off, he woke up in a slightly sour mood without really knowing why. Call it Sunday blues, or maybe he had a bad dream that he forgot about, but regardless, he felt upset.

When he went to remove his bedsheets, they wouldn't come off in one smooth pull like they usually do, and he also struggled with the little buttons on his duvet cover. Then, it took him far longer than he would have liked to separate the colors of his dirty laundry.

All in all, it feels a bit like he has been moving against the tide.

His sheets are fully dry now, though, and the only thing he has left to do is to put them on his bed. A pretty easy task, considering how many times he has done it before.

He tugs the soft fabrics up from the dryer into his arms and marches back to his bedroom with them, the sweet smell of lavender right up to his nose. It does make him feel a little better, he has to admit. Lavender does have calming properties, after all.

He drops the sheets down on his floor and takes a breath. He can do this!

After successfully putting the cover on his pillow, he moves onto the duvet. This is always a bit of a hassle, and it's no less of one today. But Dream manages to keep his cool even when it gets stuck and won't fill out into the corners right away.

He honestly just wants to be done with it now.

It's when he attempts to put the fitted mattress cover on, though, that everything suddenly becomes too much for him.

He tries his best to get the edges to stay, he really does, but they just pop right off again no matter what he does!

"No," he whines after his fifth try, slumping onto the half-covered mattress with a frown. His face feels too hot and his hair is getting in his eyes and his hoodie is riding up and—

He can't do this.

Dragging his feet, he pads across the hallway in search of help. Anything to make this overwhelming feeling go away.

He stops on George's doorsill, pouting at him where he lies over on his already-made bed. The sight of it just makes Dream feel even worse.

"I think I'm gonna cry," he declares pitifully, followed by a small sniffle.

George's head snaps up at the sound of his voice, brown eyes meeting his green ones. His face softens when he sees the expression on Dream's face.

"And why is that?" He asks gently.

Dream looks at his feet, curling his toes a bit. "Because."

His lackluster response makes George click his phone off and stand from the bed, walking over to the boy in his doorway. Dream doesn't look up, just watching as a pair of feet stop in front of his own down on the wooden floor.

A hand touches his arm. "Because what, love?"

Dream leans forward onto the brunet's shoulder instead of answering. He doesn't know how to explain, he doesn't want to talk.

George slides his hand from the blond's arm to his back, pushing him gently into a hug which Dream instantly sinks his weight into.

"Can you show me, maybe?" George suggests, voice soft by the boy's ear. Words can be hard sometimes, he knows that.

Dream gives a slight nod and pulls back from him, only meeting George's eyes for a second before grabbing his hand and leading him quietly to his room.

Inside, he looks at George with a forlorn expression and points to his unmade bed.

"My bedsheets won't work," he says defeatedly. "When I do one corner another one jus' pops off even though I don' wan' it to happen."

"Oh, well—" George steps over to the mattress and makes quick work of tucking in the two remaining corners of the sheet. He turns to Dream again, "You just have to tuck it in properly for it to stay, see? That's why they haven't been sticking."

Dream just looks at him, his eyes slowly welling with tears. He did do that, he's sure he did. Is he really that helpless?

"Aw hey," George coos, wrapping him in another hug. "It's okay, my love."

Dream rubs his face in his friend's warm shirt, dampening it with tears.

"There's no need to get upset over this, darling. It's all fixed now. All done." George gives him a squeeze. He has to admit that he's a little surprised at how upset Dream is getting over such a small thing.

"Is today not such a good day?" He asks, just taking a guess as to what might be the reason.

Dream shakes his head. "Everythin' goin' wrong," he gets out through a weak sob, followed by a hiccup.

"Okay," George hushes and kisses his head. He gets it. "Do you want to come lay in my bed while I fold the rest of the laundry? Just relax for a bit?"

Dream nods, he wants that very much.

"Alright, let's go do that then. Let's get you all cuddled up."

Dream pulls back from the hug and wipes his cheeks with his sleeves, taking a nice, long breath.

George is looking at him with a gentle smile when he pulls his hands away from his eyes, which makes Dream's lips tug upward a bit too. He slides his hand into George's.

"There we go," George says, giving his palm a squeeze.

Dream wipes his nose and smiles properly. "Dere we go."

Today might not have gone exactly how he would have liked, but once he's snuggled up in George's soft blankets and fluffed-up pillows, he thinks that that might be okay sometimes, too.

—

1190 words

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊