Undiscovered [DreamNotFound]

Possibility

I don't bother to look at the caller name and accept it.

'Heyy George, what's up?' he says.

'Hi Bad, I'm – DREAM?'

The voice on the other end chuckles. 'I never knew you were Dream. What's that you're eating?'

I'm still chewing the cornflakes. I quickly swallow it and say, 'Nothing, just breakfast. Isn't it like five a.m. for you guys over there?'

'Yeahhh couldn't sleep. Say, George, I was thinking...' he trails off.

'What?' I take a seat at my table.

'Nevermind,' he says quickly. 'It was just a thought.'

'Come on, Dream. Say it.' I reach into the box of cornflakes for some.

'I don't want to bother you, dude. I was just thinking. It's five in the morning, after all. My brain is weird at these times.' He chuckled some more.

'Dream. Stop. Just say it.'

He sighs. 'Well, if you want to know so badly. I was thinking of coming to England to meet you –'

'You WHAT?' I nearly spit out the cornflakes in my mouth. I leap up, looking around my kitchen. Oh god, I haven't even cleaned anything! My kitchen top is dirty, my dining table is crowded, the sitting room is full of rubbish, I haven't –

'Calm down, George! I said I was just thinking! I'm not actually coming right now.'

'Oh.' I sigh in relief, though I'm also somewhat disappointed. I wanted him to come, only not now. Which sounds stupid. It's not like he's already at the City Airport. Even if he was, it would take him at least an hour to reach my house. Plus he doesn't even know where I live.

'Though it wouldn't be a problem for you if I do come, right? I mean, maybe you don't want me there or...'

'No, Dream, absolutely not! You can come anytime! Just tell me when you're coming so that I can prepare because my flat is too dirty for literally anyone to live in it so you'll have to tell me...' I blabber on indecipherably until Dream interrupts, laughing.

'Woah, slow down, George. I'm not sure whether to come or not. There's the airplane tickets, and the extra charges when I do come there –'

'What extra charges?' I say, laughing. 'You think I'm gonna, I don't know, charge money as if you were a tenant? Come on, Dream.'

'No that's not what I meant! I – ugh, nevermind.' Dream sighs.

'Ok. So tell me when you start planning to come here, alright? I hate surprises.' I say.

'That's weird. You're weird. Who doesn't like surprises?'

'I don't. Goodnight, Dream. You need some rest.' I say, then worry that I sound too distant and cutting-off.

'Ok, mom. Bye.' He chuckles (again) and cuts the call. I shake my head and put down my phone. I look around my kitchen again. Maybe I do need to clear all this up, even if he's not coming. I can't put it off any longer, anyway.

Half an hour later, after struggling with my stupid messy kitchen, I start on my room. I stand in the doorway, groaning. This is gonna take at least an hour to clean.

I first try to sort out my messy clothes cupboard. I literally don't have a wardrobe, just a built-in cupboard that came with the flat, but it's a smaller hassle to manage. I try and fold the clothes properly. Even after years of living with my mum, who is obsessed with keeping the house clean, I can't fold clothes properly.

I'm trying to retrieve a shirt from the back of the cupboard when something sharp cuts my finger. I immediately snatch my hand back. There's a small but quite deep cut on my index finger. I groan and suck on it, trying to find the source of the wound. After a few minutes of trying to neatly move clothes to get to the back, I recover a small, sharp blade.

I turn it over in my hands. For a minute, I can't remember why this is in my cupboard, but I soon recognise it.

[TW: Sensitive flashbacks, self-harm]

I suffered from acute depression a few years back. Memories of cutting my forearm over and over flood my mind. I shake back the arm of my jumper to look at the scars that still show through. I look back at the blade in my hand, wondering how it would feel to cut myself just one more time. After a few seconds, I pull a face at the stupid blade and throw it in the rubbish bin.

I step back and look at my cupboard. It doesn't look too bad, so I just leave it for the time being. I've suddenly lost the interest to clean my room, so I walk out and shut the door without looking at the mess within. My stomach is still grumbling, so I head out the flat and take the lift down, thinking to visit the café nearby.