𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 // 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

A Thousand Scenarios

AN; this'll be a long, annoying expository/set-up chapter...also, I refer to Sapnap as Nick in this chapter and Badboyhalo as Darryl

-A Thousand Scenarios-

Upon the week following that disastrous day, I expected many things. After I cleaned up the blood on the floor and hid the blade away again, I braced myself for the worst. A deeper spiral into depression, more anxiety, more panic attacks, more monsters, more anguish. Perhaps I expected to have a substantially harder time keeping my promise of keeping George safe. Perhaps I would even go so far to expect much worse than George breaking his ambitious promise to me.

But the one thing I never expected was for things to get better, and for things to improve. Miracles can happen, I suppose.

Maybe after that horrific day (and one exception where George's depression and panic attacks relapsed), reality was jarring enough to snap him out of whatever depression or slump he was in. The past week, he seemed nearly alive. Almost as if nothing ever happened. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't skeptical about the legitimacy of his happiness.

I saw the subtle but present pain and the hollowness buried in George's eyes, the noticable emptiness in his weak, feigned-looking smiles. I heard the forced-seeming brightness and artificial, strangely-placed peppiness in every word he spoke. It all looked so strained, so unnatural. But yet I forced these lies down my own throat, willed myself to believe his feeble assurances and lies. For every falsehood he forced up as a facade, I myself forced two times harder to set aside my deeper intuition and swallow the lies. It was a grueling effort, but strength of will trumped all, and in the end, I'd do anything if it was for George. Every time I screamed at the voice of my conscience to shut up, it was all for him.

I told myself I was crazy and that everything I saw was a trick of the mind just so George would never know anything was wrong, or that I noticed anything was wrong. I noticed anyway.

We were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie. It was a Hunger Games movie, because we'd been in the mood for some blood, action and death. We'd sworn off purely romantic movies for a bit, but if the romance was tainted by corruption, fighting and violence, it was fine. Normally, I would really enjoy this movie, and find it wholly entertaining. But no matter how much action or excitement was on-screen, my attention and focus was anywhere but on the TV.

Instead of watching the movie, I was observing George without even realizing it. I noticed every twitch of his fingers, every tight clench of his hands, every time his eyebrows scrunched together, every time his smile faltered, every time he briefly glanced sideways at somebody or something that wasn't there. Every shift of his weight, every sigh or slight comment, every subtle change in his face, every time something changed in his expression. I absorbed, observed and analyzed it all whilst pretending to care about the characters on screen.

It was all too easy to me, the ability to understand the amount of analytics behind a person's every move. I had to analyze and observe others and their emotions my entire life, all for the sake to blend in and seem like I was normal. Normally, I found an interest in these subtle details and shifts, because they helped me understand people better. But right now, it was all too easy to forget what I was doing.

"Dream?" I heard George's sweet voice ask, the brightness in his tone so appealing to believe. Another lie to swallow.

"Yeah?" I responded absently.

"Are you even watching the movie?" He asked, laughing lightly. I ignored how forced his laughter sounded and tried to pry my attention from observing the listlessness behind his eyes.

"Of course. But I've already seen this one before." I shrugged nonchalantly, flicking my eyes back to the TV screen for a moment. George's eyes remained stagnant on my face, even when I turned and pretended to watch the movie.