Begonias

Chapter Thirty|Brown

When they got home, Dream was happy to see George, waving at him as a little kid would wave at their crush. Darryl and Nick gave him a knowing look, and Dream laughed, snacking them on their back.

Dream was in a good mood, thanks to Darryl. He had decided that he and Nick should split the cost of Dream's lights, since Dream always helped pay for their stuff, and Dream was pleasantly surprised.

George smiled back at him from his place on the couch, with some of the leftover Carmel Corn and 'Supernatural' playing. Dream plopped down a good three feet away from him after he took off his shoes.

He got comfortable, leaning into the soft cushions of the couch and contemplating putting his arm around George, but deciding against it.

Dream didn't see Darryl and Nick look at each other and facepalm.

George looked happy, though. He seemed like he was glad the three of them were back, and that he wasn't alone in this huge house anymore.

And so Dream ate popcorn with the other, smiling and laughing. And then the tide turned as he laughed just a little too hard.

He was wheezing, and he knew what was about to happen. He went into the downstairs bathroom, coughing up what he needed to, the taste of blood never pleasant, but slowly becoming a norm for him.

He didn't let panic take over, or let himself overthink anything. He just made sure his face was clean, grabbed a water bottle to sip from, and once again sat close to George. He wanted this to be a good day, even if he had to force it.

He wanted to spend time with the one he loved before he had no more time to spend. And he'd rather not die before he mustered up the courage to confess.

The three people in the room seemed to work against his mood, even if they didn't realize it. They were all avoiding looking at Dream, let alone smiling at his jokes.

His easy smile slipped off his face as this truth met him; they couldn't be happy when he was so sick. They cared too much to be happy when he was like this; they were being constantly reminded of his disease, or at least the one they thought he had.

He huffed, going upstairs under the excuse that he had to put up his lights, which technically he should be doing all things considered.

And so Dream got to work, lining up the lights around his ceiling and drilling some holes in the wall where he needed to so the power cord wouldn't be visible.

But when he was done, his hands could no longer distract him from the thoughts that were digging their way out of the hole he shoved them away into.

They couldn't be happy if he was here. They couldn't be happy if he wasn't. So they just... Couldn't be happy at all, could they?

Dream laid in his bed, curling up around a blank body pillow and crying into it, realizing a bit too late that he was exhausted as he slipped into sleep.

He was shaken awake.

---

George had decided that he would sleep on the couch tonight.

When he walked into Dream's room, he saw how horrible the bags under the boy's eyes were, and how peaceful he looked lying there. How much he needed a comfortable sleep.

He thought about how the night before, he slept well for the first time in a while. Even taking his medicine, sometimes his insomnia would get the best of him, but not last night. And, even better, ha actually had a dream for once. One that wasn't a nightmare.

He turned the lights off as he changed clothes, taking off his binder so that he could sleep. Some days, the worst of them, he didn't even want to take it off. The next morning, if he told anyone he fell asleep in his binder, they would get worried about him.

So now, George always tries to remember to take it off at night.

He walked out of the bathroom, going to Dream's room to steal one of the blankets and two of the pillows Dream had brought in there for himself.

He went back to the couch, and he already was tired enough from his medicine to pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

George woke up to the sound of coughing. It was non stop and it sounded like the person coughing was in pain.

Something was drawing him upstairs. His mind was blank as he pushed the blankets off of himself, getting up and walking upstairs. The stairs creaked under his weight.

Tw, Gore.

He followed the sound, and it was the loudest as he walked to Dream's room. There was a thick, metal smelling brown liquid seeping under the door.

He opened it, and he was frozen in place, like his feet were rooted to the floor, no matter how much he wanted to turn around, to run away.

The room was covered in brown. It was dripping from the walls, the ceiling. There was no furniture, just brown.

Just blood.

In the middle of it was Dream, his organs hanging out of his mouth. He was coughing them up.

More blood spilled from his lips, and tears never stopped running down his cheeks. He was terrified as he reached a desperate hand out to George.

Tw over.

George sat up, eyes wide. He was drenched in sweat. He jumped up, and he ran up the stairs.

Clay was fine. He was just sleeping. He was fine, sleeping in his room.

When George saw Clay, lying still on the bed, the room colored brown, panic surged through him. Tears ran down his face as he ran to the other boy. He grabbed his shoulder, shaking him.

"Wake up. Wake up, Clay!" And Clay's eyes opened, looking up at George, confused. The color of the room shifted to blue. It was his new lights. Clay was okay.

George clutched Clay close to him, putting his head on the boy's chest, listening to his heartbeat as he choked on his sobs.

Clay was okay, but it didn't change the fact that he was going to die.

Second chapter of the day.

An

Sorry not sorry. Also, I ran a picture of a blood splatter through a Protanope color blindness simulator. Weird, right?

Also, chapter thirty hype?