In The Stars - (PewDieCry)

-Chapter 11-

[cry’s p.o.v.]

 

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I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything to save him.

He’s dying, and all I can do is watch.

Why am I not moving? I love him, so why can’t I just… do something. He coughs, blood running down his face. His blonde hair, usually shining like the sun’s rays, is matted with blood. I lean forward, thinking he’s trying to say something. It comes out as a small rasp.

“Cry…” He brushes the hair from my face weakly.

“What?” I say quietly, tears streaking down my face.

“Wake up.”

>>>> 

“He won’t wake up,” Nate says in a panicked voice, “Why won’t he wake up? This has happened too many times.”

“What’s it called… um… sleep paralysis?” Pewdie shakes my shoulders. I can’t open my eyes for some reason, or talk. It’s like I’m frozen solid. Unable to communicate.

“I guess so. He’s had this happen before. Afterward he never remembers it, so we don’t talk about it much.”  Nate doesn’t seem mad at me anymore, just worried. Anyways what was I dreaming about? All I can remember is there was a lot of blood covering everything. In my hair, in my mouth, in my eyes. Part of me is glad that I never remember my nightmares, but part of me wants to know.

“Cry, you need to move.” Pewdie shakes me again, and this time my hand twitches. I turn my head a little, and suddenly I can talk again. It’s like a switch flipped.  I groan, not wanting to get up. Pewdie sighs with relief and moves my head so it’s in his lap. Nate gets up and moves away, saying something that I don’t catch.

“What happened?” I open one of my eyes, looking up into Pewdie’s light blue ones. He looks worried and pale, as if he didn’t get much sleep. I feel bad. “Are you alright?”

“You had a really bad nightmare.” He runs his hand through my hair. “It was really bad. I woke up and you were yelling and crying.”

“I don’t cry,” I say, confused, touching my cheek absentmindedly. “You must’ve been mistaken.” I don’t think I’ve cried for three years, maybe longer. One day the tears just dried out.

“I touched your face.” He puts his hand over my own. “You were crying. The yelling and screaming was worse, though.” I shrug, not looking him in the eye. “What was the nightmare about?” I squeeze my hands into fist, trying to remember. Nothing comes to me.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

>>>> 

I pull on a black shirt and some plain old jeans, not tying my mask around my face yet, instead holding it in my hand. Pewdie comes out from the office where he was (unfortunately) changing away from me. I let him borrow my clothes - currently he’s wearing my special green sweatshirt. What made me give it to him, I don’t know. That thing has a pretty bloody history. One that I’m going to show Pewdie today.