paint splattered scars || dnf

We've Done This Before

OH MY GOD. Just last chapter I was thanking y'all for 200 views and that's more than TRIPLED! I think we're at 700 now and I can't thank y'all enough. I never thought this would get any attention so thank y'all so so so much :)) Also sorry this chapters a bit late and a bit short school is catching up to me. I should be good for a bit after this stretch tho.

TW: alcoholism, drunk driving, thinking one deserves abuse, abuse, SELF HARM, blade, blood, swearing, crying (this is sorta a heavy chapter but maybe not as bad as some others)

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"Karl! Where is he going?!" Dream asked, trying to reach back to grab the phone from Bad.

"The location he's headed to is just labeled as "George's"! Is that his house?" Bad asked, shoving the phone to Dream.

"No... That's his uncle's," Dream said quietly, his voice feeling caught in his throat.

"Why would he go there?" Skeppy asked.

"Bad reasons. He's not safe if he's anywhere near there!" Karl said. He turned another corner.

Dream looked up from the phone. It felt like something was crushing his ribs. He looked around outside. A bit ahead of them, parked on the side of the road crookedly, was Sapnap's car, the driver door left open.

Karl must've already seen it. He stops the car in the middle of the road. No one else was using it. He jumps out, followed by Dream. They look in the car. George is nowhere to be found. (I'm sorry this wasn't meant to be a joke but now i'm giggling)

"He must'be kept going on foot. His uncle's house is just up here... Come on!" Dream yelled, already back in the car.

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George stood, stunned for a long time. What kind of reaction was that?! God, and I was staying with him... Fuck fuck fuck... In that moment, George wanted nothing more than to be absorbed by the wall he was leaning on. Instead, he pushed himself up.

This was supposed to help. I was supposed to feel better. Why won't you feel better, you useless fuck? He asked himself, stumbling quickly down the stairs. Before he slipped out the door, he glanced over, spotting Dream, his head in his hands, talking to his friends.

George stumbles down the steps, just sitting in the yard for a moment. He's telling them what you did. Fucking idiot, said the voice in his head.

I can't go to his house. I can't sleep there and... I'm so stupid. He's gonna hate me. He's going to hate me forever because I should've been dead a long time ago, he thinks lazily. If I just was dead... How would I even go about that? He looks around, just letting his mind run wild with any and all possibilities. His hand finds his pocket, where he remembers the small blade from before is still hidden. Still there after everything that happened that day.

He brought it out, staring at his arms. Well drinking didn't work. This is the next best thing... He lets his thoughts trail off as he tries to make deliberate cuts along his arm. His hand shakes, making it nearly impossible. "FUCK," he yells allowed, slashing at his forearm. The cut is quick and deep and stings immediately. George stares down. That works... He only brings the blade down twice more before switching to the other arm. Three swiping cuts.

He glances down at the blood dripping into his jeans. There's a lot and... Short sleeves. Short sleeves. Shit— How am I supposed to hide this— He stands up too quickly, and stumbles toward Sapnap's car. He's grabbed the keys without Sapnap's knowledge awhile ago.

He tosses himself into the drivers seat, arms dripping blood, numb tears still streaming down his face. I can't go to his house... Where do I go... George came to the conclusion that he would just drive. See where he goes. Maybe he's just leave? That's make it easier for Dream, who had it all before George entered his life, a scared mess.

George found himself driving in the general direction of his uncle's house. Either he's make it upstairs to his uncle's now lethal stash of medication to help with his anger issues (that he does not take), or his uncle would kill him before he stepped inside. George was okay with either.

It'll work this time. This time...? Wai- Oh. Oh, shit. I've done this before, haven't I?! George laughed out loud at that. He rounded the corner to the street before his uncle's. He pulled the car over to the side of the road in what he deemed to be a basically perfect parking job. He shoved his way out of the car, looking around. He knew where he was, fortunately. Or... unfortunately.

He continued on, trudging on along the curb. He had lots of time to think. Lots of times to... rethink. Maybe Karl had been right? Maybe George had misread signs and Dream thinks he's a fucking creep. I just need to get back... The one place I've always been. The place I deserve to be. I'm weak now that needs to be fixed. He furrowed his eyebrows, willing himself forward. It didn't take long for him to find himself at the same driveway he'd been riding away from, what? Two days earlier? Three? He didn't know.

He lifted his fist to knock, but decided against it. He grabbed the handle, forcing the old red door open. He shoved it over, the handle slamming into the wall beside him. That was sure to get his attention.

What could he say? What's the perfect thing to say to someone to piss them off completely? The truth, probably.

"HEY! I'M FUCKING BACK YOU ASSHOLE!"

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919 words

SORRY FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER I HAVE SCHOOL ILL TRY TO FINISH THE NEXT ONE FODAY IR TOMORROW <33

TYSM FOR LIKE 700 VIEWS OR SOMETHING!! LOVE YOU ALL