paint splattered scars || dnf

Bench Trio Detective

Take your gay angst and get tf outta here.

Today is September 8th, so, yk. Rip Clay Soot. (if you don't understand that reference PLEASE go read flowers from 1970. it's a BEAUTIFUL dnf fanfic)

Oh yeah. Queen's dead too i guess lmfao

Anyways, this chapter will be very heavy with SH. The TW WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS, SO SKIP IT ONLY IF YOU WILL BE OKAY.

TW: SELF HARM, VOICES, SH RELAPSE, blade, blood, implied abuse, HEAVY SHIT NEAR THE END. VOICES.

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Dream got home, his thought indistinguishable between the voice and his own ideas.

Dream pulled out the tupperware container from under his bed for the second time in months. This time, not for the bandages, but for the silver piece of metal, wrapped in cloth.

He stared at it, knowing the relief that would come with it. Relief that outweighed the guilt by far.

It was simple enough, going through the motions. The pain was a lot, but it was a bittersweet almost... nostalgic feeling. He was sure how to feel about that.

One day, he decided, he wanted to get a tattoo covering the scars. He knew he'd be able to handle the pain, and maybe that would stop this from happened again. Maybe.

He knew this habit wasn't good. He knew it was dangerous and bad and whatever else, but he also knew it was addicting. And this was him relapsing.

Maybe if you weren't like this you'd have a few more friends to your name, hm?

"Maybe I would," he said aloud.

—

Tommy stared at Ranboo, who looked worried, to say the least. "That was weird," Tommy said.

"I'd be weird too, if you ended up in a coma after coming to meet me somewhere. There's something more going on with him. Did you see the mark on his neck?" Ranboo asked, always the detective.

"No?" Tubbo looked worried. "What did it look like?"

Ranboo looked down at the table, his hands folded in it. His gaze slid to where Dream had sat. The mark could've been a scratch from a pet of something?

Unfortunately, Ranboo just had to look at the place where Dream's silverware had been. The fork was gone. "I think there's something else going on. I thought the mark was a scratch, but look. The fork's gone."

"So he's a silverware thief?" Tommy asked.

Without another word, Ranboo stood up, followed by Tubbo and Tommy. In the bathroom, he picked the odd roll of paper towel from the large trash can. Unrolling it, he found a fork. A bit of blood on the end.

"What the fuck? How'd you find that, Ran?" Tubbo asked, peaking at the trash can.

"Wait a second." Tommy looked at Ranboo, his face twisting with worry. "Does that mean he... I don't know... Y-you know?" he asked, dancing around the topic.

"I think it's safe to assume that, yes."

"Do we tell someone?" Tubbo asked.

"I think so..."

"What about Wilbur? He can look out for Dream and he knows all about depressed kids. He works in the library."