Muffled words

34

IDK WHERE QUACKITY LIVES I JUST PUT CALIFORNIA I HOPE THATS OKAY!

SORRY I RARELY UPDATE I HOPE THIS CHAPTER'S GOOD <3

ANYWAYS, ENJOY, TW FOR DISSOCIATION.

George's POV

When I woke up I was crying.

Not abnormally: it had been happening for the past week, and I couldn't really figure out why. But—as I'm sure you can assume—it was kinda shit. Starting every day with shaking and tears didn't exactly fill me with hope for the rest, and while I did have a great boyfriend who would hug me until I calmed down before repeatedly asking me if I needed anything, it didn't get rid of the overall sense of upcoming dread.

As expected, my sniffling brought him out of sleep, and as expected, warm arms wrapped around me almost immediately. I let myself collapse into them, gasping for breath while my hands gripped harshly at the back of Clay's shirt. One of the first times I was like this he hadn't been wearing one, and I still felt guilty for the half-faded scratches on his shoulders— anyway, at least he had one now.

The quiet of the room quickly got to me, bearing into my skull so achingly that my head started to hurt. I tried tapping Dream on the shoulder but he didn't understand what I needed, and I was too shaky even to attempt signing it, let alone texting.

"Sound, please," I gasped, wiping my cheek and feeling the tear now roll down my wrist instead of my face. It was uncomfortable so I swiped at it; probably too harshly seeing as Clay turned and watched me worriedly, eyebrows furrowed. I just shook my head and signalled for him to hurry up, pointing between his phone and the tv remote. Eventually he got up a youtube video of white noise, and I felt the vibrations of the sound flow through my veins like adrenaline. I pushed myself forward on the bed to curl up against the boy and pressed my face into his shirt, trying to block out any kind of stimulation except his body and that sound. It completely took over my senses, like a river that turned every jolt of the channel into it's smooth flow.

Clay didn't move. He had learnt quickly that staying still with me against him was a much better idea than overwhelming me with any extra touch. Surely enough, my body started to calm down; the muscles in my torso had been contracting every few seconds and my stomach ached with the effort of every new sob. I let the weakness overcome me, gasping for breath as my body went completely limp against Clay's, the only remaining movement being occasional shivers.

Unlike the previous days though, I didn't sit up. I stayed there, lying like a corpse in his lap, practically unable to move. Mentally I was trying over and over to lift my head, but my brain wouldn't connect to my limbs. The lump in my throat just built further as uneventful moments passed, silent tears sliding over my face.

Since that time in the kitchen with Clay and Nick I'd had a few moments like this— where I'd lose almost all control over my body and get lost in my own mind. This luckily meant that Dream knew what to do. He spoke to me for a bit but once he knew I was completely out of it he turned me so I was facing up at him, still rested on his lap. Then he leaned down, kissing me gently on the forehead before bringing his hand up to stroke the hair out of my face. The touch I felt was numb, but warm, and comforted my panicking mind. He rocked and petted me, speaking quietly into my hair as my teary eyes grew unfocused.
The voice, like the touch, was muffled. When I got like this it was like I had a blanket thrown over all my senses— like bodily instincts took the wheel while I just drifted off.

Flashes of what I was seeing faded in and out of sight, constant images of my boyfriend's face that moved slightly every time. I focused as much as I could on these but they were blurred, both by tears and mental distance. My heartbeat grew louder in my ears, regular but faster than usual, and it frustrated me that all I could hear was this. Repeating in a simple cycle only I was involved in, almost like the ticking of a clock.