Begonias

Chapter Twenty Two|Weeping

Chapter TW, crying

TW, panic attack

Dream was frozen, and he had forgotten how to breathe. His face was turning slightly pink as he gasped, and tears came to his eyes, the type that came when you were frustrated and burned on their way out.

And then, like a coward, he ran upstairs, and into his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. As sobs wracked his body, he put music on blast, drowning out his sudden panic.

The world was out of focus, and it was just his head, but instead of his own voice echoing endlessly, it was George's voice like a broken record, telling him horrible things.

Everything was too loud, too much, he had to fight for each breath with everything he had, every step a battle as he made his way to the toilet.

He felt like he was freezing, his arms gaining goosebumps as he leaned over the toilet, another episode starting up.

George's voice rang around in his head, endless and forever echoing.

He coughed violently, and he just wanted it all to stop. He wanted everything to just stop, to go away and stay away.

When it was his voice telling him he didn't deserve to live, Dream could handle it, even ignore it.

But when it was George's...

TW, self-harm

Dream's mind didn't register as he reached for his razor, the only sharp object near him.

It didn't click in his head as he reached for his hoodie, pulling it up and holding it between his blood-stained teeth.

It finally hit him, what he was doing, as he felt the pain of slashing his razor across his skin in the opposite way than was advised.

And then he dropped the razor like it had burned him, curling in on himself and pulling his hair, rocking back and forth slowly.

He just wanted it all to stop.

Panic Attack and Self Harm TW over

---

George was struck dumb as he watched Dream, watched the tears flow down his cheeks, watched the boy run away from him.

He was frozen, eyes blown open wide as he stared at nothing, just the staircase, flinching at the slamming of a door, and shoulders slouching as he heard music being played loudly.

George almost wanted to cry. What did he ever do to make Dream react like that? Bad looked just as shocked as him until he saw George, smiling sadly.

The first tear slipped down his cheek, and Bad seemed to tear up with him as George wiped at his cheek, only for another to follow, then another, and eventually tears were flowing like rain down his face.

Bad went up to George and wrapped his arms around him, who was too shocked to move for a moment before his breath hitched, and he wrapped his arms around the other boy, balling his shirt in his hands as he held on for dear life, beginning to sob.

---

It was an hour later when Dream came downstairs, new jacket on and hair wet, eyes red and puffy.

The very first thing he saw was George. He was curled up on the couch staring at him, his pretty face flushed pink and cheeks stained with tear tracks, and Dream knew exactly what to do.

He went over to him and opened his arms shakily for the boy. George didn't have any other emotion on his face except sadness, and he stood up slowly, just staring at Dream for a moment before he fell into his arms, starting to weep again as Dream held back his own tears, rubbing circles onto his back while the boy's shoulders shook softly.

"I'm sorry, George." Dream whispered. He's sorry for loving him, he's sorry for being himself, he's sorry for being such a horrible friend, he's sorry for reacting the way he did, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry.

George just shook his head frantically, pulling away from where he was buried in Dreams chest, to make eye contact with the taller boy.

Dream teared up at the sight of the boy's brown eyes red from crying, and Dream wanted to wipe the tears off his cheeks, to hold him close and stay that way forever.

"I'm sorry for n-not telling you I was c-coming." George sniffled, voice breaking a bit, and as he said that, a tear slid down Dreams face, and he swore to himself he would never, ever be the one to make George cry. Never again.

He pulled the boy back into the embrace, crying silently as he held the other boy close.

---

George was in the bathroom, Dream having led him there so he could clean himself off and splash some cold water on his face.

George looked in the mirror at his gross, tear track covered face, splashing some water onto it and just breathing until he almost looked normal again.

Dream had apologized more than once, and George had too, but George still felt uneasy. He never wanted to hurt Dream like that. The whole reason he came early was to make him happy, not upset.

And here he was, breathing deeply in a bathroom with his best friend waiting just outside for him because he was crying like a baby.

He rubbed his eyes and came back out, only for Dream to offer him his own jacket, probably one he had fished out of George's suitcase.

George wished that he had given him the one he was wearing. Dream was so warm...

He let himself be seated at the barstool after he pulled on his own hoodie, watching as Dream walked back and forth across the kitchen like he had done it a million times before.

He was cute. George couldn't deny the truth, it was obvious that his best friend got girls, with how his jaw was sharp and his hair was just long enough to feel good if you ran your fingers through it.

George didn't like it when Dream's eyes were discolored from crying. He vowed never to be the reason he cried again.

And as he and Dream settled onto the couch to watch TV, mugs of chamomile tea in their hands, he knew.

Dream was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Second chapter of the day.