Dying Heart||Hanahaki Disease/Dream6d[HOLD]

im withering

i havent updated because ive been feeling better but yknow everything ends.

(edit) i started writing this back in jan, it's now may and ive- been not so good. pretty sure i have a terrible lung medical condition- i dont really know? anyways im hopefully gonna finish this soon.

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Clay and Vincent were in the car on their way to a hotel that Spifey was staying at. They sat in weird silence, it wasn't bad- but it necessarily was just weird to break the atmosphere. Vincent stared out the window, absentmindedly and in silence. Suddenly soft music started to flood the pair. Vincent lifted his head and glanced at Clay who was focused on the road.

But he could tell that Clay wasn't that all focused.
Clay lifted his hand away from the radio and placed it shakily on the steering wheel.
Vincent scanned Clay's expression, sensing fear and many other unwanted emotions that he couldn't figure out. Vincent sighed, "Dream are you alright?"

Clay flinched.
"Yeah I'm fine, why??" Clay clenched the steering wheel. Vincent glanced over at the window to see George(Spifey) standing outside. The car softly halted. "You just seem... tense." He sighed as George waved before walking up to the back seat of the car and opening the door as he slid in. "Hey guys." The taller yawned before he shut the door. The click of the seatbelt signaled Clay to start driving again.

"How're you guys?" George asked, shuffling around. Vincent turned his head, "We're good." He casted a smile to George over his shoulder while also looking at Clay.
The blonde was far too busy staring at the road to focus on what was happening.

"Uh- Dream..?" George called out. The driver slightly flinched, "Oh- yeah I'm okay I guess." He shrugged, "What about you??" Suddenly Clay's interest peaked as soon as Vincent stopped talking.

Strange.

"I've been alright."
"How's the hotel treating you?"
"Haha, they've got it all. Thank you so much, Clay, you really didn't have to pick this hotel."
"Well... it is the only nice hotel around."

Clay glanced to George over his shoulder before turning his head back to the road, catching a slight glimpse of Vincent.
He wish he hadn't.

He stifled the coughs erupting through his body, the French Male noticed.

"Clay- if you can't drive, one of us can." Vincent leaned forward. The blonde refused, waving his hand in front of Vincent, "No no- I'm fine. Just a little-" He wheezed, punching himself in the chest with his right fist, keeping the left one on the wheel. Suddenly both of them were asking if he was alright.

Zak's house wasn't too far, he could make it, right..?

Clay shook his head, quickly putting his hands on the wheel. One last cough and he was done. Thankfully no petals spilled from his throat, but he could feel them crowd his lungs, grow deeper into his body like an infectious disease.

The blonde shook his head and drove faster, eventually making it to Zak's neighborhood. He sighed, quickly finding the large house and parking in the driveway, tilting his head out the window. Vincent and George exchanged small conversation before the engine stopped.

Clay couldn't believe it.

He was at war with Vincent.