Random OneShots

When I open my etes, will you be there?

By: Crysy on Ao3

Dnf

~~~~~

He wakes up. But he doesn't open his eyes. It feels like a crushing weight is resting on both his eyelids, refusing to let go and preventing him from opening his eyes to the real world. He can't move his hands, can't lift a finger, can't force his useless body to sit up and stare at the 6am sunrise. He can't wiggle his toes, can't feel the lingering ache latched onto his body, can't open his eyes. A force is clinging onto him, begging him to go back to the pretty illusions of his dreams, pulling him back to an eternal sleep filled with flowers and honey. Slumber carefully caresses through his hair, wishing to lull him back to its embrace. He doesn't want to wake up. He doesn't want to face anything. He doesn't want to be crushed by the inescapable wave of emotions.

His eyes remain closed.

The soft ping of a discord notification wakes him up. Any trace of what happened earlier was gone, no more crushing weight, no more lulling back to sleep, no more peace. He opens his eyes. After much procrastination, he crawls his way to the bathroom, prolonging the trip as long as possible to avoid looking at himself. But eventually he makes it, forcing himself to brush his teeth and stare at the mirror which housed his reflection. Face full of acne and deathly pale, nose too large, cheeks sunken and hollow, eyes too small, hair sticking out in all the wrong places. Typical. Always full of imperfections that only serve to sing melodies of the failure he was.

He wants to close his eyes.

He checks the source of the notification that inevitably dragged him out of bed.Half of him wishes for it to be from George. He wants to spend time with him, to fill their long discord calls with lighthearted banter, to play pranks on George's stream while he attempts to beat Minecraft for the hundredth time, to bask himself in George's sunshine coloured voice, to gift George subs as a joke and see his face light up with the brightest smile he's seen in his grey life, to see George and only him. He wants George to spill yellow paint in his dull world and drag him into his colourful paradise. He wants everything.

Half of him wishes for it to not be from George. He can't bear the weight today. He can't bear to have a taste of what ecstasy is only for it to be ripped from his fingertips. He can't bear to be so close to reaching sanctuary only to spiral back down to monotonous grey and the dullness of his mind. He can't bear to shower George in affection only to receive waves of emptiness slushing within himself. He can't bear to face George today.

He checks it anyway. He always does.

It's George. "Join my stream. Just chatting. It'll be fun." It says. Fun lost its meaning a long time ago. It was stolen away, replaced by an emptiness that stretched for miles. Emptiness is too much for him. But it's George. And as the chat says, George has pretty privilege, who was he to reject an offer from George? That's right. Who was he? He puts on his facade of "Dream" and joins the call.

"Dream! Took you long enough, what have you been doing? Isn't it 2pm over there? You must've had a lot of work to join so late." It's George. His lips turn up just the slightest bit and he sits up just a little bit straighter, combing fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to look like he hadn't just woken up even though they were in a voice call. Futile. He still looks like a mess.

He longs to close his eyes. But he doesn't.

"Nothing much, just editing. You?" His facade is perfect. Confident, loud voice but chill enough that chat only sees "Dream" engaging in his usual conversation with George. The smirk in "Dream's" voice is audible, no one will know. Chat is freaking out about "DNF stream!" "DNF STREAM POG" "Dream joined the call so quickly lmao" "Here comes the wave of fanfics".