💚 Long Distance 💚 || Dream6d

chapter six || subtle break

..Enjoy the angst.

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After what happened, the French man could feel his face redden in less than a moment. His insides almost tickling as a swarm of butterflies entered his body.

It's those type of butterflies that you get when you're feeling shy, or nervous, probably even embarrassed or shocked in some cases. Yet, the French man could almost feel all those emotions in that moment.

Maybe he was overthinking things, or just panicking too much to think. That sudden flurry of emotions felt like a snowstorm to him. One thing was for certain, he wanted to get away.

Without hesitation, Vincent stood up, his face a deep shade of vermillion red. He honestly didn't even know what to do, except leave the room in a shaky nervous silence.

Clay just sat in the chair, ignoring the monitors beside him as he bit his lower lip anxiously. He felt a bit embarrassed himself, but not as much as the French man. Maybe the two just needed a moment, yet Dream just whispered two words.

You guessed it, "no homo."

Yet, there was a slight flaw the male had yet to realise to this moment. Something he should have paid attention to, though he just ignored entirely. The fact that the French man had no socks on.

'Oh.... no wonder he left.'
Clay just sat in the comfortable chair, his head tilted up as he stared at the ceiling, rethinking it all.
'I guess the power isn't that strong, then.'

Dream just couldn't take the situation seriously. I mean, he could lose connection with his c--best friend. He really couldn't see the many flaws over all the jokes.
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Meanwhile, the French man had made his way to his dark bedroom, almost curled up on his dark grey bedsheets. His mind twisted and turned at every possible thought or theory, yet he couldn't place an answer on one of the most hardest question.

Does Clay actually like him?

Vincent's throat felt like it tightened at even the slightest thought of it. His fingers dug into his arms, as he curled up even more if that was possible.

In moments, the French man found himself quietly sobbing, the cold wet tears sliding down his cheeks like minature waterfalls in a secluded forest. Beautiful, yet dark and hollow.

Vincent inhaled a shaky breath, pausing mid-way due to the tears that threatened to fall every moment that passed. He was upset, upset at the thought that Clay may actually not like him. It could all be fake.

The upset French man spread himself out over his bed, his cheeks red from wiping all the tears away. He felt genuinely upset and stuck. The situation was like a 50:50 of sorts.

Confessing to Clay would be like gambling your life away. Well, at least that's what the French man felt. He didn't like this, not one bit. He just wanted to be happy, to simply hug him, and love him without the fear of losing him within moments.

Vincent couldn't picture hinself with anyone other than the male that always wore that same gorgeous lime green hoodie, absolutely no one. To have the thought he could go off and love someone else was s terrifying thought for him.

The soft quiet sobs soon turned into cries as he shoved his face into his pillow, feeling frustrated and even mote upset at this moment.

With the flow of a river, Vincent's eyes grew heavy from crying. His body almost drained of energy, to which he found himself asleep spread out on his messy bed.

His eyes burned from the constant sobbing, yet he looked almost at peace in his sleep, his calm breathing to his soft expression, and not a thing about hin looked like he was hurt, mentally.

How would anyone know? Well that's simple. Clay had heared the crying, and was standing at the doorway in disbelief. He swallowed his slight guilt and entered Vincent's room quietly.

Dream looked around the dark room. In the corner there was a tall wardrobe, and beside that a dresser which had a lamp and and a couple other things scattered around.

The male turned his focus on the sleeping French man, walking over quietly so he was standing beside the bed. He honestly felt bad that he made the French man upset like that.

Yet, it was simply over a quick kiss on the cheek. He didn't fully understand why Vincent would cry over it. Maybe some day he would understand, but for now he wouldn't know.

Clay gently sat down on the bed beside the French man, admiring him as he slept peacefully. He found it quite adorable, and the sight simply made him do a soft grin.

Dream slowly reached his hand out, before gently fiddling with Vincent's hair. It was surprisingly soft and very fluffy, making him fiddle with it more.

The French man slightly stirred, but then relaxed again at the sudden touch, still fast asleep.

The male in the lime green hoodie stretched, before lying down beside the French man, not wanting to leave his side after witnessing him cry like that.

Witnessing that made Clay want to protect Vincent, stay close to him, whatever it took to make the French man happy and not cry again.

Dream exhaled, gently wrapping his arms around the other male and pulling him against his chest. Vincent is the last person he ever wants to see sad.

Within moments, his eyes grew tired and they fluttered shut, starting to take in the calm feeling of sleep. He stayed close as he could to the French man he was cuddling. His Frenchie.

Word Count: 952