Scratches // DNF

Chapter 14

The next morning George unsurprisingly awoke first. He walked into the kitchen, the room smelling of bleach and disinfectant from when he'd scraped the ashes and blood from the floor last night.

After leaving Dream's room, he'd repacked my belongings, brushed up the cracked urn and scrubbed the floorboards until most of the varnish peeled off. When he finally crawled into his own bed, he slept a couple hours at most, justifying why he instantly brewed a mug of coffee upon awakening.

He carried the mug to the sofa and flung himself upon it. Bringing the cup to his lips, he simultaneously scrolled aimlessly through his phone. I squatted behind where he sat with chin in hand, watching as he switched from app to app. I almost laughed thinking of how he would hate the microscope I had on his life. But I had to watch something for the day to pass, so frankly I didn't care.

Somewhere between minutes and hours later, the mug had long been emptied and Dream's door creaked open. He stepped out, shielding his eyes from the dim daylight in the hall, contrasting from the coal blackness of his room. He'd thrown on the chequered pyjama bottoms he'd refused to wear last night and had the same creased t-shirt hanging from his frame.

When he wandered into the living room, cradling his head, George quickly pushed himself up from his slouch, knocking a bundle of cushions onto the floor with his foot.

"Hey," he said softly.

Dream created a slit between his fingers to peer at George. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" George asked as Dream dragged himself over and collapsed onto the adjacent sofa.

Dream pointed at his head, as though its thrumming was so violent he thought George would be able to see a blood vessel pushing at the skin at his forehead."Speak quieter," he whispered.

George smirked. "That good, huh?"

Dream glared, closing his hands to rock his head.

"I would feel bad if you hadn't acted like such a twat last night," George said. "It was funny - well funny with hindsight, but at the time I wasn't laughing - But you came to the bar last night, which was already a recipe for disaster. There was this huge guy, clearly trying to start something in the queue, and you -"

"I remember, George," Dream sighed, interrupting. His head sat motionless in his hands, index fingers massaging temples.

George paused, his breath hitching.

"You remember?"

Dream dropped his palms, meeting George's eyes. "I remember everything."

George stared, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. As soon as he became conscious of it, he snapped it shut. With the sheer amount of empty bottles and cans he'd cleared away last night, he'd probably assumed Dream had gone beyond the point of memory.

He quickly broke eye contact, jumping up and seizing his mug. Dream leaned his forearms upon the sofa, rotating to face George as he hustled to the kitchen. Dream's eyes followed as George placed the cup in the sink and burst into unsubtle pacing, from one side of the room to the other.

"George -"

"I've been thinking," George said, his pitch high. He came to stand in front of Dream. "Do you remember how upset you were over spilling Sapnap's ashes?"

Dream sighed, looked down and muttered, "of course that's what you want to focus on."

George didn't react, whether he'd heard or not. "Well I think we should go to Texas."

"What?"

"To check up on Sapnap's family. I mean... we haven't contacted them in forever."

No, I thought. No, no, no.