nowhere to run

boxing tape

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

☁️

dream's patience is wearing thin.

his legs have gone to sleep, his eyes are burning, and he's listened to the same fifteen-second clip of antfrost screaming for almost ten minutes, unable to cut it right.

the blond sulks back into his chair with a heavy sigh, his hands falling away from the keyboard for the first time in almost four hours.

he rolls his eyes to himself, the action causing minor strain to his vision, and decides that he should probably give up with editing for the day before he ends up ruining the video they'd spent hours filming. he reaches up, pulling off his headphones and discarding them on his desk, leaning forward to switch off his monitor.

he relaxes back into his chair, untensing his body and letting the strain that had been building up in his muscles finally ease out.

dream's eyes slowly droop shut, his body becoming increasingly aware of how tired he is, and he figures he should probably get up and have a nap before he passes out in his gaming chair- he's done it before, and he does not want to experience that neck pain again.

he hauls himself out of the chair, his limbs feeling like they're weighed down by sandbags as he makes his way slowly across his bedroom.

he arrives at his bed after what feels like hours, getting one knee onto the soft mattress.

dream is seconds away from flopping forward and letting the sheets engulf him when he hears the door knock.

he groans loudly, unapologetically, and stabilises himself on two feet once again, turning on tired legs to carry himself out of his room. with a frown, he makes his way to the front door, checking out the window to make sure no one is there before pulling it open.

dream glances down to find a parcel on the front porch- obviously unattended since, because of the virus, postal services weren't doing face-to-face deliveries.

the blond bends down, picking the parcel up. as he stands once more, his knees click, and he curls his lip in discomfort at the feeling.

dream closes the front door as he steps back into the house, turning the package over in his hands a few times. it has no name on it, just an address, and dream has no idea if it is his or one of the other boys', since they ordered everything online and he often lost track of what he'd bought.

he takes the package through to the kitchen with him, getting out a pair of scissors and sitting down at the kitchen island to open it up.

he drags the sharp end along the top, slicing the brown tape to offer him some leverage at pulling apart the box.

his attention is shifted at the feeling of another presence, and the blond looks up to see sapnap standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the blond from across the room. after a moment of silence, dream says, "you good?"

"yeah," sapnap answers before nodding down at the package, "i think that might be mine."

"oh," dream looks down at the package. he looks over at sapnap, saying, "here," and pushing it lightly so it would slide across the counter. sapnap steps forward, catching it before it could fall off.