MCYT: Short Stories

III: Three, to One

- Hey! And here we go, this story gets dark and gross real quick real fast! :3

Characters: DreamTeam

Warning: Major gore, major death, blood, violence, graphic and disturbing descriptions, sadness

Enjoy!

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Three, to One
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The smell wouldn't go away.

It stuck like glue, couldn't be removed. It was on his shirt, his hands, in his nose, his hair, his clothes, his skin, it was everywhere, it was everywhere, it was everywhere-

God, it reeked so bad. His stomach was in constant twisting knots, bile resting uncomfortably hot at the back of his throat, threatening to spill like the crimson mess of innards splattered about in front of him. It was disgusting, so gross, so gross, so gross-

A warm and firm hand gripped his shoulder. The rapid beating of his heart slowly (too slow) dulled in his ears, the tremor in his malnourished body lessening (not enough) as he steeled his nerves, feeling the warmth from the gentle touch flood his veins. It was so warm, so warm.

He blinked open his eyes, cerulean orbs glazed in a glossy film of bleariness and daze. His vision slowly came into focus, the blurs of color morphing into distinct shapes that he could vaguely begin to recognize. Blobs of orange that formed into twirling tongues of bright flames danced on the walls, hungrily consuming their diminishing fuel sources. The crackling pop of smoldering wood sounded in the room, bouncing off the stone gray walls and echoing sharply in his ringing ears. Where were they, he didn't remember, he didn't remember-

"Hey."

The voice was soft, gentle, a tone of command resting beneath. He felt hot breath brush against his ear, across his neck, lightly blowing his hair. Reality gradually came to focus, and his eyes finally registered the dark, illuminated presence kneeling in front of him. Bright, glittering peridot-hazel eyes stared into his own, gleaming with tenderness and concern. His eyes trailed along the river of freckles splashed across the other's face, pale skin glistening beneath the torch's flickering flames, casting their features in shifting shadows. Dirty blond hair was matted and slick with a layer of shining grease, yet it retained its fluffy volume. Dark umber and crimson stained the other's lime pullover, thin ebony armor shredded and tearing at the seams. A bandage was wrapped tightly on their left shoulder, a thick splotch of a muddy black and red staining the center. The sweet and sour smell of sweat and uncleanliness filled his nostrils, mixing bitterly in with the looming stench of blood and rotting flesh. A small smile curved their chapped lips, a sad crease in the corner of their eyes.

He'd recognize it anywhere.

Forcing down the bubbling bile building in his throat, he inhaled a deep breath, trying his best to ignore the putrid stench entering his lungs, staining his tongue, lingering in his nose. It smelled, it stunk, it reeked-

"George."

Another warm hand grabbed his other shoulder, firm, demanding, grounding. Biting his quivering lip, he looked back up, his timid eyes hesitantly meeting theirs.

"D-Dream?"

The male nodded, his expression softening. He lost his smile, but his eyes remained warm, gentle, caring. "Yes, George. It's me."

Taking a moment to quell his hammering heart, threatening to burst from his chest, he reached out a feeble hand, his trembling fingers brushing lightly across Dream's exposed collarbone. "Y-You're...w-we're a-alive..."