Pic by @victoriandarkacademia on pinterest
Tw: Homophobic slur, mentions of vomiting, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood, cursing(?)
Enjoy:)
George leaped over my brother's still body, his fast fingers grazing his fair neck and the other hand's palm kept on his torso.
His eyes were wide yet lost in the air as he tried to focus on the younger's chest raising softly and the warm blood rushing through his veins.
"He's breathing but his heart rate is really fast." He uttered a few seconds later, signing Dream to help him and then lifting him up.
My chapped lips stayed locked as i just barely had the strength to watch his pale arms sway back and forth, dangling from my best friends' hold.
They left the house without closing the door.
I stared it down disappointed, wishing i could have locked it with my mind, too tired to take a few steps until i could reach the golden handle;
I was about to leave it wide open like that, in a grim invitation to look inside and witness how pathetic i appeared as i wasn't even able to close a fucking door, but the fresh breeze caressing my warm shoulders was enough to send shivers down my spine and convince me to close it.
So i lazily dragged my feet to the entrance, checking outside to see if they had already left.
I couldn't see George's car so i simply shut the door and went into the living room.
It must've been that stupid migraine that had been chasing me for almost a week now, but I couldn't feel guilt, i couldn't feel fear, anger, sadness, only sheer confusion.
My steps felt melting into the ground as i moved forward, and every picture hung around the room was slowly dripping on the walls, painting them with various shades of gray.
I approached the sad, half-opened bag that had the white powder spilt around it.
I got down and picked it up.
My cold knees were pressed against the tiled floor as i carefully studied the sack in my hand.
The door opened in a swift squeak, and before i could react Clay's figure came up to me.
"Care to explain what the fuck is going on?"
His words got increasingly harsher through gritted teeth as his tremoring hands were locked in tight fists.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.
His face was red, and small droplets of sweat were racing across his cheeks and breaking on his nervous lip as it quivered in fury.
"I don't remember." I finally muttered.
"You don't-" He interrupted himself in a scoff, his nails forming a white aura on the skin under them as they pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I must've been drunk and someone might have slipped it in my pocket. I... I dont know."
He looked through me with phantom pupils.
"So you went outside?"
I froze. My eyes desperately scanned the area around him in the hope of finding an escape, an open door that would have led me to somewhere quiet.
"I don't know." i helplessly cried.
"You're lying to me." he accused. It was a statement, but in his gaze i could spot a desire of it being a question.
"Where did you get that shit?" He then asked again sternly, coldly. There was something inhumane, something wrong with his voice. I almost couldn't recognize him.
Each second cut my skin more and made me want to throw up. I took a few weak gasps of air.
I stared at my red fingers, unable to look up.
The clock in the living room seemed to tick louder than anything, giving a rushed rhythm to my heartbeats.
"I didn't mean to hurt him." i mumbled with a strained voice.
He scoffed ironically, his whole features changing into someone i couldn't recognize. I was only able to bark in defense, but he didn't hesitate to bite me in attack.
"Of course you did. You meant it all." He paused, and everything around me spun as i helplessly held onto the ground.
"You're ruining your life and you're gonna drag them down too." he then said.
I immediately got up, stumbling on my feet but determined to push him a few times. "You don't know shit!" I cried as angry tears slipped down my warm cheeks. He roughly shoved me back, making me lose my balance and almost fall a few times.
"I know you're snorting cocaine for a fag who's probably on someone else's dick right now-" He spat. I grabbed him by the neck, hitting our heads together.
He immediately dropped down, and on top of him my knuckles swung to crush on his face.
But my arms couldn't reach him.
And i kept punching, but my fists felt the void wrap around them,
and i couldn't hear the flesh cracking and breaking under me,
nor the blood gushing out of new wounds,
just my name faintly whispered, then spoken, then shouted.
"Sap, Sap, Sap!"
I gasped.
My fist was closed, but my knuckles were clean.
I looked around but no one was under me, helplessly wriggling their body in an attempt of an escape.
Only besides me stood my youngest brother, Bill, as he carefully held my arm and looked at me with eyes full of fret.
"What happened?" He whined with trembling hands.
Around me the walls weren't dripping of grays,
and the floors weren't moving back and forth,
and i couldn't hear the obnoxious clock tick in my ear anymore,
It was silent.
"Bill..." I murmured, staring him down.
"Go to your room, yes? I need to do something." I asked, gently pushing him away so he would move.
"But what happened? Where's Ran?" He simply repeated, determined to stay where he was.
"He's gone somewhere safer. He wasn't feeling well. Go now, okay? You'll be home alone for a bit." I coldly responded, getting up and putting on my shoes.
I left in the bat of an eye and ran towards Dream's house.
I don't know why i didn't take the bike.
Almost halfway through i started feeling dizzy, and i had to stop by a bush and vomit god knows what - i hadn't been eating properly since maybe one or two days prior-
but i still kept going.
After maybe ten or twenty minutes i arrived at his porch.
I didn't have time to hesitate, i didn't have time to stop and think, so i started knocking.
"Dream." I called.
I heard rustling, but no one answered. So i tried again.
"Dream, please. I need to see my brother."
No answer.
"Goddamit Clay!" I shouted, kicking the door and biting the inside of my cheeks.
"I'll wait here until you open this fucking door Clay! I'm not moving!" I yelled.
So i stayed there.
I felt weak, tired, sick, but i wouldn't move and he knew it.
After what must have been thirty or fourty minutes i tried knocking again, but as i stood up my head spun and i lost balance.
The last thing i remember is the door opening.
I woke up with a terrible headache.
I was on the couch, and Dream was at the entrance welcoming a short, austere man with a white shirt and a leathered bag.
"He fainted about fifteen minutes ago, Doctor. He hasn't been feeling well."
He said getting closer and sitting down an armchair opposite to me.
"Dream." I faintly called. He immediately looked at me.
"Where's Ran?" I murmured.
He leaned closer, patting my hand.
"He's with George. His parents are medics, and they were the fastest font of help. We will check up on him later, okay?"
He spoke to me as if i was a child.
I nodded, then bit my lips worriedly.
"Aren't you mad at me?"
He smiled.
"I could kill you."
I chuckled, holding his pinky with my thumb.
The doctor took out his last utensils and observed me quite loudly.
He checked my temperature, then swiftly put the thermometer in the bag.
"You have a high fever." He stated.
"My head has been hurting a lot, Doctor. And I've been having bad nausea."
He looked at me severe, then got a long wooden stick and told me to open my mouth.
He checked my tongue, throat, eyes.
"Ever had hallucinations?" He asked as the icy stethoscope traveled around my bare back.
I hesitated a moment.
"Y-" I started. "Again." He interrupted me.
I gave a loud cough.
"Yes, i have." I repeated mumbling.
He swiftly took the tool off his ears and put it in a bag.
"You must have caught yellow fever."
He stated, stuffing his bag with everything he took out.
"Yellow fever?" Dream asked.
"It's an illness trasmitted by mosquitoes, mainly. It may be lethal."
"Lethal?!" I shouted, sitting up.
"If you don't feel better by three or four days, there's a risk. I'll write you something that may help you feel better."
He got a notebook out and quickly wrote something on it, then he tore the paper from the block and put it on the glass table in front of us.
Dream took it, hiding his sharp pupils through furrowed eyebrows as he tried to read it.
"Men- Menth..." He stuttered.
"Methylphenobarbital. It's for the headache." He explained.
Dream nodded, accompanying the man outside.
I saw him slip a few bucks in his hands as he left.
"Bill's still home." I told him.
He walked up to me and took the prescription, immediately walking towards the door.
"I'll get the medicine and bring Bill here. We will visit Ran and let you know how he's feeling, okay?"
I slightly frowned.
"I want to come."
"No, you need to rest." He scolded, fixing his coat.
"Tell him I'm sorry." I said.
"Oh, and Dream?" I called as he opened the door.
"Yes?"
"Could you get me a paper and a pen?"
He stopped for a second to look at me.
"Of course."
//
1673 words.
HAPPY MOTHERFUCKING NEW YEAR BITCHES
It's been... a while.
My mental health has gone absolute shit and i could barely get up from the bed, so I'm sorry for the wait.
This chapter is a bit short, but i wanted to get it out by New year's.
Half an hour to go for me!
I hope this year will be wonderful for all of you guys :)!
My beautiful Habibi helped me again as a History counselor, giving me all the info and medic stuff to make this as realistic as possible so tysm babe, it wouldn't be nearly as fun to write without you :).
I love you all, thank you so so so much for the almost 800 views! I'm so excited for this story, i have so many ideas and things to write about, and i hope you're as intrigued as i am👀.
Happy new year again y'all!!