Hold on || dreamnotfound

chapter thirty eight

dream's point of view

Two hours full of crying and warm hugs later, I had told Sap and George I needed some time to let all the new events sink in. When you talk too long about one particular thing, it's getting exhausting and you slowly start to lose track of the topic in the first place.

At the moment, I sat on my bed, mindlessly caressing Patches' soft fur while she was purring softly. The sound always managed to calm me down and the gentle vibrations of her belly felt like home.

"Is there a way out, honey? What do you think?" I questioned my cat and her green eyes curiously opened. Tiredly, she yawned and showed me her sharp teeth and little tongue.

I slightly smiled and petted her tiny head. "At least you're still here, huh?"

She blinked at me before slowly resting her head on my hand, proving me once more that she could indeed sometimes understand what I said. On a website about cats' behaviour I had read that they showed their love through blinking at you.

Full of appreciation, I stared at the cute little fur lump on my bed, while my mind started running again.

Both of my friends had assured me they didn't judge me for any thoughts I had and I knew I could believe them. At the same time though, I couldn't get rid of the slight inkling that I had in relation to any human being.

The one that told me no one really wanted to be around.

Even though I knew I shouldn't pay attention to it, it still refused to leave my brain. Every time I started to feel happy, it came back, whispering my fears into my ear.

"That's nonsense, Clay! We love spending time with you, you're our best friend!" Sapnap had assured me an hour ago. Burying my head into my hands I nodded.
"I know. But I can't silence this stupid voice. It's always present and as long as it is, I can't truly be happy," I replied, helplessly trying to explain something I didn't even understand myself.

George had taken my hand, even though he already sat on my lap. Still, he was trying to increase the physical contact for he knew it helped me.

I threw him a thankful glance, instinctively pressing his hand to show him I enjoyed it.

"But that's something you could tell Dr. Hartfield, couldn't you?" George asked cautiously, knowing I didn't like to talk about my therapy with them. Not that I didn't trust them, it just felt so... cringe that I actually had to go to therapy.

Nervously biting my lip I shrugged. "Dunno."

"But I do. George's right, it surely is something she can help you with. Don't forget she literally studied human thoughts," Nick agreed. His gaze showed worry as much as fear. I knew I shocked him by telling them about the suicidal thoughts, which was completely understandable. I probably would've reacted similarly.

"But I don't feel like my thoughts are human anymore," I whispered, not sure whether anyone except for me heard it and whether it was better like that.

The hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me once again. Moments like this made me doubt if I would ever get better. It felt like everything in the universe desperately held me back from any recovery.

Neither Nick nor George happened to say anything. They just exchanged concerned gazes, probably having a whole ass conversation while I was losing myself again.