Scratches // DNF

Chapter 17

I was staring at a dreadful photo in the hallway when Dream and George awoke. It was of me, leaning across a bannister atop a mountain. My family and I had hiked to the top and the wind adhered my hair to my left cheek. The right cheek was blotchy and almost bruised from the strength of the wind.

I wore hideous shorts, which I'm positive were swimming trunks, and a polo shirt of my dads. The photo had been taken during one of my visits home a year or two ago when I'd hugely underestimated the volume of clothing needed for a week when packing. Therefore I had to rely on tight, childhood clothes and borrowing to remain clothed.

They'd used that photo for my funeral, saying how lovely my smile was. I'd been furious at the time, it was incredibly unflattering and honestly a little embarrassing.

Anyway as I was saying, Dream and George crept out of my room, having not awoken once throughout the night. The sunlight seeping into the hallway illuminated their beaming smiles, so wide I feared their cheeks would rip.

Fortunately, my dad saved them from that destiny. He and my mother were eating breakfast when Dream and George walked in, immediately snatching their smiles.

"Good morning," mum said after swallowing her mouthful of cereal. "How did you both sleep?"

Dream mumbled they'd slept well as my mum grabbed an additional two bowls of cereal. My friends shuffled around awkwardly, pouring their meals and coming to sit opposite my parents, the silence unbearable.

"So," mum began, her eyes flickering to dad. "I'm very sorry for the hurtful comments you had to hear yesterday, George. I don't agree with what was said, but my husband has some calm and reasonable questions about... that night."

George's eyes shifted to my dad, who sat tall, having pushed his unfinished cereal away in order to cross his arms.

"Yes," he said sternly, no apology of his own in sight. "I would like to know why the fire alarm didn't go off." It wasn't a question nor a statement, but a demand.

"Um, well," George cleared his throat, resting the spoon against the side of the bowl, having not taken a bite. "It was really stupid, but the alarm kept going off when we were cooking, and so we disabled it by taking out the batteries and..." His voice shrunk. "We... we never put them back in. We were really stupid."

"Yes," dad blurted out before being kicked under the table by my mum. He took a deep breath. "Right, fine." He shot his eyes toward Dream, who froze. "And when did you come home?"

"The police called me shortly after, George was too distressed to call. I came home straight away," Dream explained.

It had been horrible when he showed up. The firefighters tried telling him he and George needed to sleep in their parents or a friend's home for a short period. The fire had been relatively contained, therefore repairs shouldn't take long, they said.

Dream didn't listen. He couldn't. He looked behind and caught sight of George weeping on the floor. He immediately pushed past the firefighters and the police and anyone else who tried to get his attention. He threw his arms around George, who couldn't squeeze back. I don't think he had the strength to.

"Where's Sapnap?" Dream had said.

George sobbed.

Dream pulled back, keeping his hands on George's shoulders.

"George, where's Sapnap?"

George's mouth squirmed, speech failing him. Dream shook George's shoulders, his voice desperate and frantic. "George, where is he?"

A police officer gently touched his shoulder. Dream swung around wildly, his eyes blurry and anguished. "Where is my friend?" he whispered, knowing what was about to be said.