overworked and under-informed

that funny feeling

sapnap can't even bring himself to say that he loves his mom before he ends the call. he doesn't deserve it, goddammit.

he drops his phone down on his desk with a hearty sigh, wishing he could just cleanse himself of these feelings. he wishes there was some way he could rewind time and be better. do better. ask karl his fucking age before sparking this thing between them.

the aggression comes back, and sapnap hangs his head, looking down at his lap and taking long, deep breaths. his knee is bouncing, his emotions rushing through him at full speed. he needs some sort of outlet, but the thoughts that rush through his mind are nothing but bad. he knows, deep down, that the things he's thinking about will hurt more than they will help.

his right hand finds his left arm and he drags his nails over his skin. he wants to scratch and scratch until he peels back the film of disgust clinging to him.

sapnap puts his hands back in his lap, refusing himself the outlet and, after a moment of consideration, he reaches for his phone.

sapnap knows that his friends will all be together, but he makes the decision to call dream just in case. just on the off chance that maybe sam won't be there.

he loves sam like a brother, but he hates himself enough without his older friend agreeing with every one of his faults, even if sapnap knows that's what he deserves.

he doesn't need advice right now, he needs a distraction.

"sapnap!" dream answers with a grin, and sapnap's gaze snags on his reflection in the call's top corner. his phone is in his lap, his head still hung down, and the angle is so entirely unflattering, only made worse by his bite-raw lips and the bags under his eyes. "say hi to sapnap."

sam and ponk's greetings follow through the sound of the call, and sapnap recognises that they're in the office. the fact that he's distracting them from work only makes him feel worse, and he's reminded of how much he is letting the team down. his next swallow feels rough against his throat.

"hey," he greets them back, and it comes out quieter than intended. he clears his throat of the scratch working up. "uhm-" he pauses, taking a breath. sapnap doesn't know what he should say, and part of him wants to just ask about work and pretend everything is fine, but his heart feels too heavy. "i'm having really awful thoughts."

sam moves into the frame as dream's face scrunches in confusion. both of them look worried, and dream assumes that ponk is just out of shot, harbouring a similar look. "about what?" dream asks, voice gentle. unjudging.

"uh-" sapnap's breathing hitches and he tries his best to steady himself as he searches his thoughts for some sort of honest truth. he doesn't want to scare his friends, but he needs them to be there for him, even if he knows that he deserves all of the bad burning inside of him. "violent thoughts," he confesses, "about uh- about myself."

sam pulls out the chair beside dream's -sapnap's chair- and takes a seat. "sapnap, you'll have to give us more than that," he says, almost stern, but the ravenette has a feeling that all three of them already know exactly what he means.

then again, sapnap has never felt this way. the feelings are foreign even to him, it makes sense that they wouldn't quite grasp it.

"like uhm-" sapnap's phone is in his right hand, and it feels like someone else is controlling him when his left arm creeps over, reaching for the right. he forces it back, but it takes a ridiculous amount of self-restraint. "i want to like, scratch myself," he tells them, hating how stupid he sounds but needing to get it out, "or like- like, more... than scratching."