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A MCYT - Dream Team Fanfiction by

FleckaRAF

Author's Note:

I consider Dream and George to be very close friends - like brothers almost. Therefore, this fanfiction will not be written with any other kind of relationship - it's completely platonic. Also, in no way am I trying to dictate how they are in real life. I'm mostly going to be portraying them as their in-game personas are. I'm just a humble fan who enjoys writing 'what-if' scenarios :)

Enjoy!

"Nonono wait Dream let's talk about this!"

I stifle a giggle as BadBoyHalo's frantic pleas sound through my headphones. Dream is wheezing and chasing Bad all around the Dream SMP map, for reasons only he knows. Sapnap and I are watching with great amusement.

"C'mere, BAD!" Dream laughs, close on his heels. He playfully lands a few hits, then as suddenly as he started chasing, he wheels away, leaping expertly around in parkour style.

Bad sighs with relief and stops running, staying out of Dream's reach.

I smile, and debate whether or not to snipe Dream with my bow. But after a missed shot, I decide it's not worth it anyway. After all, why spoil the relative - albeit chaotic - peace? This was just an ordinary day on the SMP, with no need for another war.

Plus, Sapnap, BadBoyHalo, and I had been looking forward to this day for months. Alongside Dream, we'd plotted, planned, and teased our livestream viewers no end as to what we had in store for them. "Something big" was all we'd say, and then laugh at some of people's guesses on Twitter. Some were actually correct, but we weren't going to tell them until we were ready. And almost ready we were.

Sapnap yawns. "Alright, guys. I'm ending my stream now. I've got a lot of stuff on tomorrow, and it's nearly 1 am."

The chat goes crazy.

. . .

Is it about the 'Event'?

what's on?

When will it be?

Pog!

Aww, don't end!

Bye Sapnap

How long do we wait?

See ya!

When's it happening?

Byeeee!

. . .

I glance at the chat, grinning. "Dream, are you going to end now? I think I will." It's been a long stream. I've been up since before 5am, beating Hardcore Minecraft with Dream. Sapnap and Bad woke up and decided they'd race us to the End in another world. Of course Dream and I beat them easily. Then we joined the SMP to wind down and relax.

I can hear Dream stretching loudly through the mic. "Yeah, George, it's really late here. Not long to wait, chat! Only another ten hours or so! Okay, bye!"

I go into F5 mode and stare at my viewers. "Well, I'm leaving too. I'm rather hungry, I haven't had breakfast yet." My Minecraft character waves his right hand earnestly at them. "Byeeee!"

I click End Stream and finally we have a chance to speak privately. Bad pipes up first. "I can't wait! Y’know what, guys? We've totally memed our viewers!"

All four of us burst into laughter. "Biggest meme of the century." I say. "They have no idea you three are all in England!" Rubbing my hands together, I shift position in my chair. "This is quite epic indeed! They'll be so surprised!"

"Yes! Nice touch, Dream - saying it was late 'over there'!" Bad laughs.

"So, it's all set for this afternoon, then?" Sapnap says.

"Yeah, 5pm at the Brighton Marina. There's a Pizza Hut there, I'll meet you guys and we'll get something to eat." I reply, spamming my spacebar as I jump up a hill on the SMP before logging off the server. "And I'll finally get to see you irl, Dream!"

Dream chuckles. "If you can find me, George!" he says teasingly, but I can hear how happy and eager he is by his voice.

After exchanging Good Mornings and Goodbyes, I hear the familiar *User Left Your Channel* three consecutive times.

Sighing, I stand up and stretch. I need to feed my puppy. "Baby!" I call softly, tapping a food-bowl. "Come here, sweetie!" Paws tapping on the floor sound from the other room and she appears, looking at me fondly. I place the bowl down again. "There you go."

Then I walk out into the kitchen and pull open the blinds. Rays of sunshine stream in, and the sky is for once a clear blue even to my colourblind eyes - and not grey with clouds. I hope the weather stays this good for the rest of the day. Dream, Sapnap and Bad are all staying in separate hotels and motels around town, ready for our "Mega Muffinteers Meet-Up" this afternoon. Trust Bad to come up with such a dopey name for it, I think with a smile.

Over the other half of the house, it is silent and my parents and sister are evidently still asleep. Usually I stay over this side, the 'Granny Flat', but occasionally on Saturday mornings I'll 'drop in' on the rest of my family and have breakfast with them. But today I just rummage around the fridge for something to eat, and decide to have a glass of apple juice. And why don't I cut up some apple to go with it? Saves time and food, but I still might need to go out to the shops later. I take it outside and sit on the deck. It is indeed a glorious morning. This - I say to myself - Is going to be one of the best weeks of my life. I'm so excited for it, I can't stop smiling as I read over a magazine.

xxxDotHxxx

The rest of the day goes smoothly, and nothing out of the ordinary happens. As I prepare to leave for the marina, my mind begins to drift over everything that we are going to do. Pizza, maybe swim at the beach, play games, or perhaps just sit and have a good old conversation. Only one thing is bothering me.

My mind also can't help but let me know of every possible thing that could go wrong. I push these thoughts out of the way and ignore them the best I can. Why should anything happen? This is the very first time all four of us are going to be meeting up irl. It's gonna go fine, we're gonna have wonderful time! Why shouldn't we?

Beep!

Beep!

I snap out of the daydream and look around for my phone as I hear two notifications come through. The texts are from Bad and Sapnap.

Sapnap:   Hey Gogy I'm ready to go!

BadBoyHalo:  George I'm leaving for Pizza Hut now!

It only takes me a second to type a reply.

GeorgeNotFound:  Let's go! I'll text Dream and let him know.

I pull up Dream's contact on my phone, and grinning back at his white smiley icon I send him a short message.

GeorgeNotFound:   Dreeeammmm are you ready to go?

Dream:   Yeah, I'm getting a cab now. Beat ya there!

Just before I go out the front door, I look around for my small blue notebook. For a while now, I've been jotting down random ideas and questions to ask Dream when we actually meet. I don't want to leave it behind now. It'll be great to sit on the beach and talk.

I don’t have a driver’s liscence, so I hail a taxi and I'm finally off to my destination. The entire way, I sit quietly in the back seat, tapping my fingers in eager anticipation. I'm finally gonna meet Dream! I've known him for so long, and I've never seen his face! This is going to be so cool! I've been waiting for this day for such a crazy long time it feels odd that it's actually happening.

I know my way around town, so of course I am first to reach Pizza Hut. After paying the driver, I hop out of the car and look around for any of my friends arriving. Sapnap turns up first, grinning widely and carrying a black backpack over his shoulders.

"Hi, George!" he shouts, walking over briskly and we exchange excited greetings. "No one else here yet?" he asks, gazing around.

I glance at my watch. "Well, it is only 4:51pm." I say fairly, although I am practically bursting with enthusiasm for our get-together. "They'll be here on time. Dream even said he'd beat me here! Not likely now!" Laughing, we walk over to one of the tables outside the takeaway shop and sit down. The bulging backpack Sapnap is hefting over his shoulders catches my attention. "What on earth is in there, Sapnap?" I inquire, trying to reach one of the zips and pull it down.

Sapnap slaps my hand away with a smile. "Back off! It's only a couple of games. I thought we could play 'em at some point."

"Only a couple?" I say incredulously "Looks like you've got an army of them in there! We won't have time to play half of them!"

We sit there for 5 minutes, and chatter away about every random thing. Next to arrive is Bad, who waves wildly as he gets out of a taxi. He dashes over, beaming with joy. "HI, GEORGE! SAP -"

"SHHHHHHH, you mUfFiNhEaD!" We say in unison as he approaches. I pat his shoulder as he remembers just why he shouldn't be yelling our names out across town. "Hallo, Bad."

Bad looks remorseful. "I'm sorry, guys." he says in little more than a whisper. "Hi!" Then his face lights up again. "Yay, I beat Dream here!"

I nod happily and make room for Bad to sit at our table. He sits down and pulls out a camera, beginning to take photos of us and pretty much everything in the immediate area. Although we are happily posing for him, a voice in the back of my head is nagging me, telling me that something isn't right. Dream said he'd be here first. But I ignore it. It's England, he's a visitor, he doesn't know the way around. Nothing to worry about, he'll turn up when he's good and ready. In fact, he's probably going to try prank us by hiding or attempting to get past us without us recognizing him. The three of us talk and study each and every passer-by with feigned inattention, hoping to see through any disguise Dream might have donned.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. The voice in my head is getting louder and more persistent. I pick up my phone and send him a message, my tense fingers fumbling slightly as I type.

GeorgeNotFound:  Dream we are waiting! Stop hiding, where r u?

15. . .20 . . . 30 minutes. He's still not here. My phone lies on the table, disturbingly quiet. He hasn't replied yet. Sapnap looks at me, trying to hide his worry. "Maybe he got lost?" he says lamely. I shake my head, dread continuing to pool in the pit of my stomach. "No, he would have called." I say, trying hard to keep the concern out of my tone. Bad hasn't said anything since I sent that text.

We all jump violently as my phone rings, shrill and harsh. I snatch it up, only to see the number is hidden. It's not Dream calling. I feel sick with apprehension as I press Answer.

"Hello, George speaking"

The voice that comes over the phone sounds gruff but calm and in control. "You are - GeorgeNotFound?" he asks.

My heart drops to my stomach at his tone. "Y-yes." I falter.

There is a pause, and I hear faint commotion in the background of the call. It sounds like . . . Oh god please tell me that wasn't sirens please nonono. . .

Then the person on the other end takes a deep breath.

"There's been an accident. . ."

TBC. . .

Sooo, that's the first chapter! I really hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.

(And of course, I can't close this note without. . .)

Also, according to Ao3 Statistics, only a small percentage of people who read my stories actually leave comments - so if you have a moment, it's free - and it helps my writing out a ton :)

Chapter Text

“There’s been an accident. . .”

My entire world seems to tip upside down. My heart plummets and I struggle for enough breath to ask him what happened. I feel the blood drain from my face as he explains. Sapnap and Bad must have have seen me go white, because they have stood up, watching me with worried expressions.

“Where d-did it – happen?” I manage to get out, and at his reply my stomach twists itself into a tight knot.

It’s less than a five minute walk from here. He was so close. . .

Finally, he hangs up. I stare at the phone, unable to process everything I’ve just heard. Bad’s quiet, concerned voice breaks through my thoughts and I glance over at them both. I swallow a lump in my throat. “Dream’s – he’s – there was a crash. . .” I choke out, unable to keep tears from my eyes. “They’re still cutting him free from the wreckage.”

“Fuck.” Sapnap says in a low voice, and I can see he’s dangerously close to tears as well. Bad seems to be in shock, he sat down very suddenly at the table and hasn’t said a word since.

My fingers are hurting and I look down. My knuckles are white, I’ve been gripping the phone so tightly the screen is flashing. After a moment, I get up. “Come on, guys, quickly.”

Sapnap rubs a hand over his face and leaps up. “You know where he - they. . .”

I nod, and Bad jolts back to reality as I tap him on the shoulder.

“You okay, Bad?”

“Yeah George, I’m alright.” he replies, standing shakily. “Let’s go.”

At any other time, it would have taken at least five minutes to get to the location of the crash.

This time, it took three.

As we neared the scene, I caught my first glimpse of what had taken place. A huge van had collided with a taxi at the intersection, leaving the whole back right side buckled like a piece of paper and the glass smashed.

And through the shattered window, crumpled limply on the passenger seat, I can see him.

A figure lying face down, motionless, with blood dripping down his head.

Dream.

Oh my god no please. . .

I stumble and Sapnap catches my arm, inhaling sharply as he notices what I just saw.

“Holy muffin – Dream.” Bad whispers, barely audible.

I dash forward, closely followed by my two companions. As I reach the tape marking off the area, ayounger policeman walks up to me and lays a hand on my shoulder firmly but gently.

“Who are you?” he asks calmly.

I take a moment to reply, recognizing his voice as the one who called me before. “I – I’m George – that’s my f-friend – is he okay? ” I reply, not caring that I may or may not have tears running down my face. This is my fault! I suggested the meet-up, I suggested meeting here, not over in Florida. . .It’s all my fault. Oh my god Dream I’m so sorry. . .

The policeman looks grim. “We can’t be too sure – the door is so badly damaged we weren’t able to open it. We have a team of workers cutting it off now. I was only able to call because we could reach his phone from the other side. But he is alive.”

“Couldn’t y-you have gotten him out from the other side too, then?” I stammer, scrubbing my hand across my face roughly.

“No. His leg is trapped between the door and the seat, it might have caused him worse injury.” He gives me a sympathetic glance. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything. But just stay behind this tape, okay?”

Mutely, I acknowledge him with a nod, staring in shock at the scene unfolding before my eyes.

My best friend – I did this to him. I’m so dumb. . . I slump down on the kerb, putting my pounding head in my hands.

“George, are you alright? Do you want some water?” Bad looks concerned and sits down beside me, patting my shoulder. Sapnap just stands motionless, staring at the car.

“No – I’m okay. . .” I sniff, unable to look at him. Guilt is mercilessly throbbing through every inch of my body. I try to focus on anything but the taxi. A medic is looking over the driver, who appears to be fine. The van appears to have suffered little damage too. The back half of the taxi is where the real damage is. The ambulance crew is waiting nearby the wreck, waiting . . .

Dream please be okay please be okay I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. . .I should have listened to you. . .

I start violently as I hear the sound of the metal door crashing to the ground. Leaping to my feet, I see the paramedics swarm forward, blocking Dream from my line of sight. That is too much for me – I duck under the tape and approach, ignoring the stern call from somewhere behind me. A policeman moves to stand in front of me and I finally halt, sobbing for breath.

Suddenly a stretcher is right beside the taxi, and they are lifting Dream onto it. I crane for a glimpse of his face, to see him, to see if he’s okay, but they wheel him to the ambulance. The back door shuts with a thud and it drives off.

“W-wait!” I cry out, involuntarily stepping after it – and the younger officer immediately stops me.

“Listen, sir. The hospital is just around the corner, it’s only a short drive.” He points to his car. “I’ll take you.”

After that, my memory is a blur. I can’t remember getting into the car, or the journey, or even arriving at the hospital. The next thing I realize I’m doing is talking to the young lady at the reception area – asking questions I’d never thought I’d have to ask.

“W-will he be alright?” The words stick in my throat – choking me. “When c-can I see him?”

The receptionist looks at me, genuine empathy on her face. “He is still unconscious - and the doctors are still checking to see what other injuries he has received. We won’t know until later.” She lowers her voice, as if hesitant to speak. “I’m very sorry. Look, why don’t you three go sit in the lounge for a bit and wait – would you like some tea or coffee?”

I shake my head, inhaling deeply then looking around at Sapnap and Bad, who also decline the offer. “No thank you,” I say. “We’ll just wait.”

We all sit on separate couches in the lounge. I find myself moving to sit on the one with a green covering, before I realize what I’m doing and quickly change over to the blue one. I can’t bring myself to take the place where my friend should be sitting.

Because it’s my fault that he’s not here, or rather, that he is here in hospital. I should have been less stubborn when we discussed the meet-up. I should have agreed to come over to America instead of being stupid and insisting that because I was ‘all alone’ in England that they should come to visit me.

I reach over and pull a leaf off a small potted plant resting on the table beside my seat. Absently I tear it into pieces, rubbing them around in my fingers until they slip and fall to the floor. Then I pick another leaf.

7:43PM

Sapnap hasn’t said a word since we left the crash site. Bad had been trying to keep our spirits up, but after little response from me and none from Sapnap he fell silent. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door and was shocked to see how drawn and pale I am. The magazines on the coffee table lie untouched, because none of us could bear to read them while Dream lies, possibly dying, in the next room.

Nonono he’s going to be alright!!! He can’t die! Voices clamour in my head. Where would I be without Dream? He’s always been there for me. I can’t remember what life was like before I’d met him. I take for granted the fact that no matter what happens, he’s willing to stick by me. If I am having a bad day, Dream always finds time to talk to me.

The amount of times he makes me laugh, cheering me up.

If he dies, what will happen to the rest of you?

He can’t – Dream won’t die! My mind counters while I aggressively shred a leaf. Our team would mean nothing without him. How could we possibly continue? He’s the leader. I don’t think he knows how much we look up to him. He never knew how much like family he felt to us. He’d tease me all the time, asking for me to say a simple ‘I love you’. I refused – thinking he was just joking, or trying to get me to say it for the memes. I didn’t once stop to think that he might genuinely have been wondering.

Now I might never have the chance again. To tell him that I do – as my best friend in the world. Just like the brother I never had.

“Uhh, George?” My attention is drawn back to see Bad looking at me with a forced smile. He gives a small cough and points to the floor beneath my feet.

The carpet is littered with fragments of leaves. I give a bitter laugh and bend down, scooping them into my hands and discarding them around the base of the plant.

8:52PM

Sapnap is pacing around the lounge, I’m wanting to get up and join him. I need to take my mind off everything that’s going on – I’ll go crazy if I don’t. I pull out my phone, and when I put in the PIN my hands move automatically to open Twitter like I usually do. Before I can stop it, the app is loaded and I’ve received more notifications than I’ve ever had in my life.

The first thing I see is that someone has posted a picture, fuzzy and out of focus, but recognizable as me. The tweet says: I was out walking this afternoon and i’m new to the area but can anyone confirm this is GeorgeNotFound?

I look closer. It’s obviously been taken near the crash, Bad and Sapnap are partially obscured behind me. Thank god – you wouldn’t be able to tell who they were.

The tweet as been confirmed with enthusiasm and is trending #GeorgeInAccident?

And I’ve been tagged in about half a million tweets.

Are you alright? @GeorgeNotFound what’s happened?

@GeorgeNotFound talk to us.

what’s the surprise we were waiting for, @GeorgeNotFound?

With shaking hands I exit the app, unable to reply to any of them just now. I’m hyperventilating. I need to calm down. What if I listened to some relaxing music? Maybe? Slowly I open Youtube, and the Recommended page pops up.

The first video is one of ours, Minecraft, But a Tornado Chases Us. I tap it.

Bad slides over to sit beside me, and after a minute Sapnap silently joins us. I find myself transported back in time to when we recorded it. I remember being picked up by the tornado multiple times and Dream wheezing uncontrollably at my frantic attempts to get down again. I remember finally ending the recording because we’d both died and were in hysterics – laughing too hard to try again.

Dream’s laugh echoes around the room, I have the volume down pretty low, but it’s more than enough. My mind drifts away from the video and I begin to think. This might never happen again. We might never do this again.

“You can do it, George! I’m gonna make it!” I hear Dream’s voice pierce through my thoughts. I glance down at the phone to see Dream land an MLG, and I hear myself rejoicing as I manage to survive as well. Was that my imagination? I could of sworn I heard him speaking.

It gives me a spark of hope.

You can do it, Dream. You can make it.

We spend the next two hours watching old videos. We laugh till we cry, and the tears aren’t all from laughter. They’re from the memories we made and shared together, that we might never make again.

11:35PM

The warning light on my phone is flashing ‘Low Battery’, but I ignore it, absorbed in watching the final scene of Minecraft Speedrunner Vs. 2 Hunters.

I recall giving Sapnap the victory punch, forgetting he was on low health and that I was using a sword. I was so sure Dream was dead, until I failed to see the death message in Chat. The corner of my mouth lifts, as I remember the feeling of absolute terror as I realized for me it was Game Over.

Nobody kills Dream until he’s ready to die.

Then a doctor walks into the room.

I power the phone off and all three of us stand up simultaneously and stare at him, silently pleading for him to say what we all want to hear. The doctor walks over, introducing himself as Dr. Ranlow. He looks worn out as he sits beside us on the couch. It’s a moment before he speaks, quietly.

“If he makes it through tonight, he’s going to be okay.”

TBC. . .

It's only just begun, my friends - it's only just begun :)

Thanks for reading, next chapter up soon!

Be sure to drop a comment and check out my other story, Mission Accomplished? - A Dream SMP Story

Bye!!!

Chapter Text

Extra long chapter for you all for being so patient waiting - this is nearly 3000 words!

Quick Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor, nor do I live in England. So many apologies if some things seem a little out of place - I'm doing my best to make this as accurate as I can :)

Enjoy!

Never before have I been so full of hope and fear at the same time.

“If he makes it through tonight, he’s going to be okay.”

There is a long way to go yet.

Beside me, I hear sighs of relief and nervousness. I slump back in my seat, emotions running wild. I’m happy, sad, scared. Terrified of what tomorrow might hold and what the future might bring. I glance up at the doctor, trying desperately to keep my feelings hidden. “H-how is he now?”

Dr. Ranlow looks grave. “He’s in a coma but stabilized. What we are waiting on now is for him to regain consciousness – we need to assess if there is any permanent damage to the brain. Apart from that, his other injuries are not overly serious. Fractured arm, broken leg, much bruising. Also bloodloss.” With a tired sigh, Dr. Ranlow sums it up his diagnosis. “The longer he remains completely unresponsive, the less chance there is for total recovery.”

I gasp quietly. I really can’t believe this is happening to us. To Dream. My whole universe seems to be crumbling before my eyes. Doctor Ranlow must have seen my expression because he’s put his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Look, Mr. . .”

“Just call me George.” I gulp.

He nods understandingly. “- George. Would you like to go see him? Just through the glass though - you won’t be allowed in.”

I swallow again. I want to but I’m scared I’m sorry I don’t know what to say.

Bad stands up immediately. “Yes, yes – please could we?” I’ve never been so grateful to him for interrupting. The doctor gives us a half smile and beckons for us to follow him.

The hospital corridors are deathly quiet. Our footsteps echo as we walk down them, our bodies casting next to no shadows under the fluorescent lights. I stare as if in a trance at the numbers on the doors we pass.

W  - 1441

W -  1442

W  - 1443

I feel apprehension well up in my throat as the doctor slows down slightly.

W  - 1444

W -  1445

Dr Ranlow stops and pulls open a set of blinds, indicating for us to look through. “He’s just in there.” I stop dead mere feet away, unable to move. Bad and Sapnap halt behind me.

I’m about to see Dream in real life for the first time – and he might never know. It feels wrong.

This is not how I imagined our first meeting – me a nervous wreck and Dream unconscious. It could have been so different: it could have been so wonderful.

Instead, Dream’s on the brink of being lost to me forever.

It takes effort to edge forward, I’m trying to slow my breathing to a reasonable level. Dr. Ranlow gives us an encouraging smile as I peer through the open slats of the blinds and for the very first time after so many long years of friendship, I can see the man who has been like a brother to me.

Dream lies on the hospital bed, partly obscured from my vision by monitors, cables, IV drips. An oxygen mask is on his face, and I can just see his chest rising and falling with painful slowness. For the second time that day I am nearly able to see his face. He looks so – so small and vulnerable, lost in a sea of white sheets and cream-coloured tiled walls. Crisp white bandages already stained with crimson are bound about his head and chest, while his right arm and leg are also bandaged but are in splints as well.

I take a step back in shock. Tears glisten in my eyes and begin to blur my view through the window until all I can see is my horrible, exhausted reflection. This is all my fault. If I’d only. . .

“George?” Bad must have seen my expression and is trying to help. “We should go now, okay?”

With difficulty I drag my eyes away from my friend lying so helplessly on a bed less than three metres away yet still so far, far from me. “How early can we come back tomorrow?” I ask.

“Any time after 6AM would be fine. We – we will know by then if he’s going to be all right. I’ll call you if there’s any change.” Dr. Ranlow answers, making a note of something on a clipboard beside the door before facing us. “You guys should get home now, you look like you could do with some sleep. I know it might be hard but it’s the best thing you could do right now. Or if you’d like you can stop at the cafeteria on the way out and get something to eat.” With a sympathetic smile he points down the hall. “It’s the last left before the exit.”

We must look so stupid, all nodding in unison and saying nothing. Finally Bad responds and thanks him. I’ve never been very good at talking to strangers, and right now I’m in way over my depth. Thank God for BadBoyHalo.

Walking back down the hall is even more eerie without a doctor leading the way. A dim light flickers over us, and the connecting passages that we pass fade off into total darkness. We’d have to venture down one of them if we wanted food but Bad just walks straight past it and the sliding glass doors open to allow him to leave.

The orange-hued streetlamps outside are a comforting warm glow compared to the chilling, cold, clean atmosphere of the hospital. All three of us stand on the footpath, unsure of what to do next. I automatically think about waving down a taxi, but the moment I see one approaching my head starts to pound so much that I have to sit down for a bit.

When the second one passes neither Bad nor Sapnap make a move to flag it down. In silent agreement we have all decided that there will be no taxi rides. Not tonight.

I glance at my watch. 12:02AM. I can feel the others watching me even though I’m not looking at them. They’re waiting for me to tell them what to do – this is my turf, my country. Bad did more than his fair share in the hospital.

What are we going to do? The question repeats itself over and over inside my head. My gaze drifts over the surrounding buildings. The motel. . . maybe. . .

“Guys, there’s a motel right beside this hospital.” I say. “I’ve stayed there once before – it’s okay. They usually have rooms available even if you don’t book in advance.”

Sapnap doesn’t appear to be paying attention. Bad clears his throat and nods. “Yes, let’s go then. C’mon, Sapnap.” He tugs at his arm, and Sapnap blinks before following without question.

We check in at the motel, and the owner gives us the keys to a small but tidy apartment. There’s enough room for all of us, with two beds, and a fold-out couch. Not the most comfortable place but we’ll only be there one night.

And if Dream can make it through the night despite so much pain and injuries, I can easily make it through what remains of tonight.

Once we have gotten everything sorted, Bad heads over to the kitchenette and starts getting glasses of water for everyone.

Sapnap drops his black backpack by the table and sits – or rather collapses - down on a chair opposite me. I notice how white his hands are – he must have been clutching the backpack extremely tightly. His face is ashen and as I watch his breathing begins to become irregular.

“Sapnap – are you okay?” I ask, to no response. I reach over and touch his arm, and he begins shaking violently. His hand is cold and clammy. Alarmed, I call Bad, who comes over quickly and puts the glasses down. “I think he’s in shock.” I say nervously as Bad looks him over.

“Uh – yeah. George, help me get him over to the bed.” Bad replies, putting Sapnap’s arm over his shoulder and helping him to his feet. I lift Sapnap’s other arm and we lie him down on the bed. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something that I can’t make out. I bring over some water and Bad helps him to drink some before pulling the blankets over him and stroking his hair until he finally calms down.

I stand a little off to the side, not sure how to be of assistance. This was unexpected – I don’t know what to do. Sapnap’s the youngest of us all, but he’s usually so stolid and strong that we forget.

I didn’t think how this might have affected the others too – Sapnap’s known Dream far longer than I have. I’m so selfish. I caused all of this.

Finally he seems to have fallen asleep, and Bad gives me a weak smile. “You should get some sleep too, George. Take the other bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

As Bad goes about unfolding the couch, I look around. My phone needs charging – but I didn’t bring my charging cord or anything.

Why would I have? This was supposed to be a simple meet-up, not a nightmare life-and-death struggle.

The black backpack is sitting alone by the table, and I’m sure Sapnap would have some kind of cable in there. He never goes anywhere without it, I recall him saying once. Sure enough, I quickly find the cable and adapter so I plug my phone into the powerpoint beside my bed. I’m afraid to turn the phone on – after what I saw earlier I’m scared to tell the fanbase what’s really happening. They’re expecting something epic – instead Dream’s fighting for his life and I can’t do a thing to help my best friend.

I’m so useless. I’m so dumb. I could have prevented all of this. I’m a coward. I’m afraid how they’ll react.

I’m faced with a dilemma. As I kick off my shoes and bury my head in the pillow, I don’t know what is my best course of action. Do I tell the fans that “Dream is in hospital, seriously injured, and we don’t know if he’s going to make it.”?

Or do I wait until I know if he’s gonna live or die – I muffle a sob in my sleeve. I don’t want to tell them if he doesn’t make it. With all the lights in the room off now, I can imagine vividly my worst fears taking shape and form. They loom over me. I’m terrified, I’m tired, I feel sick. “Please - Dream - don’t leave us now.” I whisper softly as I feel tears run down my cheeks and soak my pillow. Yes, I’m crying. No, I don’t care. “We need you. . . I need you. . . please Dream. . . I’m so sorry. . .”

I don’t remember falling asleep, but judging from the nightmares and the fact I woke feeling paralyzed with fear and doubt several times, I must have.

xxxDotHxxx

Waking the next morning is like moving from one nightmare into another. Cold sweat is dripping down my face and back as I sit up, trying to catch my breath. My head hurts. The blankets are piled in a twisted heap at the end of my bed. I reach for my phone and fumble with the ‘On’ button, blinking away sleep as I try to read the time. The room is still dark.

4:26AM. A whole hour and a half before I can go see Dream. The phone gently illuminates the room, throwing a soft glow over my sleeping companions. I slid my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. Everything feels somewhat surreal – like I’m in some kind of daze

I tiptoe over and take a sip from the water glass on the table, but as I do I suddenly hear muttering and whimpers from Bad’s corner of the room. “Bad?” I hiss, concerned. He is tossing and turning on the couch like a puppy having a bad dream. As I near him I can see he’s still asleep - although he’s frowning and his face is flushed. Obviously in the middle of a nightmare.

Do I wake him? I’m not sure. Why am I so useless at everything?! I want to know what to do!

In the end, I decide to try rouse him. Placing a hand gingerly on his shoulder, I give him a gentle shake. “Bad, wake up. Bad?”

Bad’s eyes open quickly, and he gasps. “Wh-what? What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing his face clumsily, before glancing around for his glasses.

“Nothing – you were just making a lot of noise – you alright?” I reply.

He shoves the glasses on and peers around the room. “Yes – j-just a bad d-drea. . .” He trails off and bites his lip, unable to say the word ‘Dream’. We both sit in silence for a few minutes, thinking the exact same thing.

How can we say his name without him here – without knowing if he’s still with us?

What do we do now? “Should I wake Sapnap?” I whisper, but I’m interrupted.

“I’m already awake, George.” A tired, flat voice answers the question addressed to Bad. We both turn and give him a half-hearted smile. “Sorry.” I say, walking over to my bed and pulling the sheets up, almost obsessively making sure there are no creases left. Bad flips on a light switch, and we all stare at each other. We all look awful - both my friends are pale, with dark circles under their eyes. I can only imagine what I look like to them. The odd thing is – I’m not hungry even though I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday lunchtime.

Silence reigns as we go about tidying the apartment. None of us want to speak and the only words spoken are short and necessary. I stuff Sapnap’s phone charger back in his bag before he notices it is missing. Then we take turns having showers in the tiny bathroom. By five-twenty we are all ready to leave – all there is to do is wait. “Is anyone hungry?” I ask – not expecting anyone to be. I was right. They both shake their heads and we all sit down around the table.

The clock is moving so slowly. I find myself mesmerized by the second hand, ticking its way around the face of the clock constantly but never seeming to advance the time.

I shoved my phone into my pocket earlier without looking at it again. I’m still haven’t plucked up the courage to reply – besides, I don’t know what to say.

And I just remembered – that photo – I haven’t told them yet.

“Um – Sapnap, Bad? I know it’s a stupid question, but. . .” I have to scrub at my face to stop my voice shaking. “What d-do we tell everyone? Last night – the fans – on Twitter someone posted a photo of us at the c-crash.”

“Wait – what? You’re kidding, right?” Sapnap raises his voice in disbelief, knowing there is no way I’m lying.

Eyes wide, Bad’s mouth drops open. “Oh my goodness they did what? How?!”

What do I say?

I gnaw the inside of my mouth, tasting copper as blood fills it. “Someone was out walking – they saw me -” Again – this is my fault. “You can’t see you guys in the picture luckily – but they know something’s wrong and the entire fanbase is freaking out. I – I can’t tell them what’s happened to Dream. . .” I can’t hold back my tears any longer. “It’s all my fault but I’m afraid to tell them. If I hadn’t been so selfish in the first place none of this would ever have happened! And now if Dream dies. . .” I break down into sobs.

I feel Bad’s hand on my mine as he speaks. “It’s not your fault, George! Nobody could have known this was going to happen! Dream’s not gonna die – he’s – he’s a tough muffin. I’m sure he’ll be okay!” Bad leans over and gives me a hug and I notice Sapnap pat my shoulder too. His eyes have filled with tears as well.

An awkward silence follows – but I somehow feel a little better. I feel ready to face whatever the day might hurl at me – I hope.

And when we arrive at the hospital again, at six o’clock on the dot, we walk straight up the reception desk. The young nurse is registering our names when I hear a familiar, serious voice call my name.

Dr. Ranlow strides over, expression unreadable. As he approaches my surroundings seem to fade out and everything goes fuzzy. All I can here is his voice, telling me the news. Even then, only a few words manage to pierce the thick fog of clouding in my mind as the reality begins to set in.

“Dream is going to make it!”

A slow smile of joy spreads across my face for the first time in what seems like eternity.

It may be a long, lonely road, but I swear I’ll stay by his side every step of the way.

TBC . . .

"Oh I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known.

Trying to find Dream - he's hiding like a muffin away from me." - BadBoyHalo

Chapter Text

Yes - I'm aware that colourblind people can drive, thing is I typed a draft of the first chapter right back in the middle of last year, and I usually work on my stories on an old monitor setup which has no internet connection. So when I uploaded it, I forgot to go back and check my facts XD

I'll try not to let it happen again - I plan to go back and edit it to be correct :)

“He’s not awake yet, but it’s okay if you all want to go sit with him for a while.”

Dr. Ranlow tells us to follow him again and we walk down the hallway. This time, I am able to pay a lot more attention to our surroundings. The atmosphere is very different to how it was last night – now the corridors are well-lit with the warmth of daylight. Despite a feeling of trepidation as we near Dream’s room, I can feel hope rising as well to combat it. When we reach room W – 1445, the doctor opens the door and gestures for us to enter. I suddenly feel like I’m choking as a lump forms in my throat.

I’m still scared – this is my fault. . .

Dream lies motionless with his eyes tightly closed, IV drips hung about him. Altogether, he looks – terrible. His face is so pale, deep purple-blue bruises are showing over any of his exposed skin despite the bloodstained bandages covering his head and arms.

My best friend came so close to death, and I was the one who put him there. . .

As I stand in the doorway with tears stinging in my eyes, unable to move, Bad pushes past me and walks over to the bed. He’s crying too.

“D-Dream? It’s Bad! And George and Sapnap – we’ve come to see you!” Bad stammers, smiling down at the still figure who looks so out of place lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Bad gently picks up Dream’s limp hand, stroking it.

Sapnap gulps. “He – he can’t hear you, Bad.” He steps forward with the light glistening off a tear on his own cheek.

Bad looks up with a tearstained face. “I – know. . . but. . .”

Dr. Ranlow speaks up from the corner – none of us had noticed he was still here. “Actually, you’d be surprised - someone who is unconscious can hear sometimes, even if they cannot respond.” he says, encouragingly. “Talking to your friend might do him good – take turns in sitting with him. Let him hear your voices.”

Immediately, Sapnap and Bad move back, looking at me.

They think I want to go first – and they’re right. But I’m so nervous – how do I talk to Dream? He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. This isn’t like chatting on Discord or anything – even like having a direct talk. He won’t be able to say anything back to me.

I blink dizzily, before realizing the door has shut and I’m alone in the room. Not quite alone – Dream is still here – at least physically. I walk forward quietly. There’s a chair to my left, and I drag it right up to the bed. Sitting down, I feel something poking me through the pocket of my jeans. I frown and pull out the small blue notebook I picked up just before I left the house yesterday. It’s slightly crumpled, so I flatten it out and put it on the bedside table.

Then I turn my attention to Dream. I have swallow a couple of times before I can bring myself to say anything.

“H-hello, Dream.” I say almost inaudibly. I find myself staring at him, only now actually taking in the fact I’m looking at Dream in the person. Yesterday, it didn’t feel strange seeing him at all. Now, I am fully aware that I’m seeing the face of my friend who’s kept it hidden from the world for so long.

My eyes drift over his face, memorizing every little detail. His extreme pallor makes the starry hazel-coloured freckles which are dusted liberally over his nose and cheeks stand out a lot. There’s a very faint, silvery scar running down from under the bandage over his right eye all the way down across the bridge of his straight nose and ending on his left cheek. His hair is dirty-blond, which shimmers with a reddish hue when it catches the early morning light that is streaming in through the window.

I can’t see much else, because the oxygen mask is concealing the rest of his features.

All of a sudden a strangled chuckle escapes me as a thought hits me like a ton of bricks. Oh god – the irony of this situation.

This is the first time I have seen Dream irl – and he’s still wearing a mask.

My laughs turn to sobs of regret, relief, and exhaustion as I tentatively reach out and place my hand on Dream’s, but I withdraw it almost straight away, a chill running through my spine as I feel how cold and clammy his hand is. I don’t know how Bad held onto it for so long – he’s so lifeless that I’m shuddering. “Dream – I’m so sorry I did this to you – I’m such an idiot – I don’t even know what to say. . .” I apologize tearfully and trying to ease my hyperventilating, watching his face for any signs of response. But there is nothing, his expression is so peaceful and placid and his breathing so deep and even that I find myself calming down. The monotonous beeps from the monitor above his bed lull me into a state of relaxation, even though my mind is still in chaos.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

Just like the ticking of a clock. Determinedly, I stretch my hand towards his again and grip it tightly, feeling the warmth from my own skin seep into his cold hand. And I hold on. Salty tears trickle down my face as I sit silently, praying, wishing, hoping for Dream to recover.

After about a five minute period which felt like an age, I carefully release my hold, flexing my aching fingers gingerly. I feel like I should talk now – but what do I say? “Well, - uh – hey, Dream.” I exhale shakily. “It’s good t-to finally see you – even if you are still wearing a m-mask. Just like in the fanart, huh?” Giving a nervous grin, my gaze flickers restlessly over everything in the room, looking for inspiration for what to say.

And the first thing that falls into my field of vision is my little blue notebook. It’s full of questions I scribbled in anticipation to this meet-up-turned-nightmare. I swear I’m totally not trembling as I flip open to the first page, the corner of my mouth lifting as I glimpse some of the questions. Silly, childish, trivial ones, but it’s perfect for what I need right now. I clear my throat. “I – I have some – umm – things I could ask you – if you want to hear them.” Another choking laugh. “I mean, like, I just thought you might want to – seeing as you can’t really d-do anything else right now.”

The penciled lines seem to be blurring as I read out the first one. “So – what’s your favourite – time of year? Y’know, like the season?” I ask in a small voice. This feels so absurd, so strange – asking questions without hope of a reply. “M-mine is probably winter, because then it’s nice to be able to wear a hoodie all d-day without getting too hot.”At once I can hear the voice of Dream respond in my mind, making a stupid joke about being us always being ‘hot’. I can hear his infectious, wheezing laugh and can’t help but want to join in.

I then read out more, pausing a moment after each, then answering them for him. I try to guess what his answer would be.

“What’s your favourite type of flower?”

“What’s your favourite ice-cream flavour?”

“Where in the world would you most like to visit?”

“What do you love most about being a youtuber?”

“What’s your favourite animal?”

Everything seems to be going okay until I come across a question I put in as a joke, to tease Dream with. He’s such a good sport that it would have been hilarious had I had the right occasion to ask it. Right now, it is the worst and last thing in the world I want to talk about.

“Where would you be without us?”

The innocently jotted line now wrenches my heart out of my chest and drops it to my stomach. “Oh Dream . . .I never knew all this was gonna happen – I’m so sorry for being selfish.” I let my head fall into my hands, smudging tears across my face. “After all you’ve done for me – this is how I repay you. I worded that question wrong, Dream. It should be ‘Where would I be without you?’. Because then the answer would be nowhere. I owe you so much – you’re the best friend I could have. I’m just an ordinary idiot without you -” I mutter haltingly. “But t-together, we’re – we’re extraordinary idiots.” I burst out with a mangled laugh. Sniffing, I scrub my sleeve over my face.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

Sapnap and Bad will be in here soon. I can’t say anything else, because I think I’ll just break down completely. So I end up just watching his face closely, trying to imagine what he looks like when he’s doing different things. How does he look during those insanely tense moments of a Manhunt, hiding around a corner on half a heart and nothing but a trick up his sleeve. Is he frowning – or focused? He’s definitely good-looking, I’ll give him that.

What about when he laughs – that distinctive, trademark wheeze which is almost as famous as he is?

When he wins the Manhunt through a perfectly executed trap? I can picture the elation and joy on his face. Guessing these things brings a small smile to my face.

There’s only one thing that’s bothering me. I wish I could see his eyes. I keep returning to thoughts of what colour they are. I can’t see green properly, but I can still work it out. Will they be the colour of a dark forest, or bright emerald green? A teal sea-green shade, or the colour of sunlit trees? I wince as I glance at his splinted right arm and leg. The doctor said they were both fractured.

Suddenly a horrible thought strikes me. Dream’s right forearm or wrist is broken. I’m not entirely sure which, but I know one thing.

Dream won’t be able to use a mouse properly for a decent amount of time, right? Then that means – he won’t be able to play Minecraft.

Improbable but awful scenarios begin to fill my head. Minecraft is his – or our – job! What if he doesn’t get better? Or if he can’t use that arm ever again? What if. . .

Finally Dr. Ranlow comes and knocks quietly on the door, jolting me out of my rapidly increasing gloomy thoughts. Standing up, I stretch stiffly and nod at him. He comes in, with Bad close behind. “You doing all right?” he asks, and I just nod again in response, before leaving the room and making my way back to the lounge. I slump down beside Sapnap, who has the same blank, emotionless expression that I have.

Neither of us say a word.

I think we’re both too busy praying. The badly timed question in my notebook continues to haunt me, long after I’ve scratched it out with the darkest pen I could find.

“Where would you be without Dream???”

TBC. . .

Hope you are enjoying the story so far!

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Chapter Text

 Nearly 200 kudos and over 2K reads! Thanks so much everyone - I can't believe it! :)

“So – what do we do now?” Bad asks, looking down at his watch. “It’s nearly 9.”

I frown, suppressing a yawn. Nothing comes to mind straight away - I’m still feeling somewhat numb, but after seeing Dream all of our spirits have lifted a little. “We could – uhm. . .”

Sapnap shoulders his backpack, sighing. “This thing is really heavy. Let’s find somewhere to sit?” He clears his throat – I can tell he’s trying hard to sound normal.

“Well, let’s. . .” I pause, thinking. “Actually, let’s go back to my place. I guess you’re all hungry?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Sapnap doesn’t look very enthusiastic, but he agrees. “Bad?”

With a nod, Bad waves a hand at a passing taxi. “Yes! I’m starving.” It slows down and stops beside the footpath. A shudder runs through my body as I slid into my seat.

This is what Dream did yesterday, just before. . .

xxxDotHxxx

I shove my key into the lock, twisting it and pushing the door open. The house is cool, dark and still. Very still.

Wait, where’s Mum and Dad? I think, hearing absolutely no noise from inside. Then I remember. That’s right. The whole reason we’d agreed this was the best week to have a meet-up was because Mum, Dad and my sister were going on a week-long holiday together and I’d have the house to myself. They must have left yesterday evening while we were at the hospital. . .

I can’t help but feel relieved that they’re not here. I step inside, and walk across the room to open the blinds. Turning, I give a theatrical sweep of my hand. “Welcome to my most humble abode.” I say, running my hands over a pristine countertop. “As you can see, we have nothing too elaborate, but -” I gesture at some of the more expensive furnishings in the room, “- I’m sure you will be quite comfortable. Please make yourselves at home.” I earn a laugh from Bad and an amused snort from Sapnap, who plops down on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. His eyes rove over the room, taking in his surroundings.

“Not a bad little setup, hey Georgie? Of course, it’s not as good as mine,” he teases, “but you’ll get there someday!”

I grin and swipe at his feet with a magazine. “Feet are for the floor, Sapnap. Not the table. Now, anything you want to eat in particular? I have apples, apple juice, um. . .”

Sapnap pokes my arm, smirking. “Lemme guess - apple crumble, apple-flavoured icecream, apple . . .”

“Oh shut up, idiot. My food supplies are better than yours.” I laugh, thumping a cushion on his head. He retaliates by snatching up another and returning the blow.

I’m so glad Sapnap is looking happier – he had me worried last night.

We’re literally on the verge of an impromptu pillow-fight when Bad interrupts. He is already looking through my rather depleted pantry, tut-tutting at its lack of promise. “George, where do you keep the flour? And is this all the sugar you have? Look, if you leave it unsealed like this the ants can get in, you muffinhead!”

Sapnap pipes up gleefully. “Hah yes! Not so high and mighty now, George? You have the same problem as me!”

“I have no ants here! I told you, this is prime accommodation! Ants can only afford to hang out with people like Sapnap.” I watch Bad, curiosity getting the better of me. “What are you doing?”

He turns around as he puts a packet of chocolate chips down on the bench. “I’m gonna make muffins for us all!” Then his smile fades a little, but he forces it back bravely. “And maybe they’ll let us leave some at the hospital for Dream when h-he wakes up!”

It seems as if all of a sudden a very heavy cloud has descended on the three of us. Sapnap’s face darkens, and he puts down the cushion without another word. Bad’s eyes glisten with tears and he continues to rummage through the cupboards. I slump back on the couch, surrendering to the gloom.

This is the first time we’ve all been in the same room together – and it’s still not the same without Dream.

As Sapnap moodily begins to take the boxes of boardgames out of his backpack and stack them neatly on the table, I pull out my phone and turn it on.

Oh no. Twitter.

I’ve been putting off replying to the millions of frantic notifications – but realistically I can’t any longer. I glance up at Bad and Sapnap. “Will I tell Twitter?”

They both hesitate. Bad breaks the silence. “Yes – they deserve to know.”

“Say that the ‘surprise’ they were expecting has been postponed.” Sapnap says in a low voice, fiddling with hem of his shirt.

“And the photo someone took of – me?”

He shrugs. “Tell them – you went out for a walk and happened to come across a – a – car crash. Don’t say who was in it though. Pretend Dream w-was in a different accident in Florida.”

I see the logic in Sapnap’s reasoning. If the fans found out that that photo had been taken at the same place as the crash, and Dream was in a hospital in England, it wouldn’t take much for them to work out which one it is and I don’t like to imagine what might happen then.

I begin to type a draft tweet, when I have a thought. I should really let all our close friends know first. I hop onto the DreamSMP Discord, and it takes me about ten minutes before I’m ready to send the message.

But the message for Twitter is even harder. I’m constantly editing it, re-typing, pausing, and biting my lip.

After about half an hour, Sapnap finally catches my attention. “George. Just send it now. I’m sure it’s fine.”

He’s right. First I reply to the photograph tweet.

yes, that is me. I was out walking and came across a car crash. I was not involved and I’m totally fine, don’t worry!

Then I post a tweet which I know is going to have the effect of a bombshell.

Hello everyone. I have some bad news. Dream was in accident and is now in hospital. He’s still unconscious but the doctor says he’s going to be okay. The ‘surprise’ is being postponed until he recovers. Prayers are appreciated :(

I re-read it to myself, inwardly cringing. It is so stiff and awkwardly worded. I wince and turn off my phone, not willing to face the onslaught of well-wishing fans sending waves of consolation in our direction. All I want is to go sit alone in my room and think.

The scent of baked muffins fills the air as Bad opens the oven and takes out a tray. The muffins look really good, and I think everyone brightened up a bit as he put them on a plate and carried them over to the table. “Chocolate chip muffins for everyone!” he says, carefully placing the plate down. “But be careful, they’re -”

Sapnap reaches out and grabs one, taking a huge bite before Bad can finish his sentence. He gasps and shuts his eyes, before quickly chewing the mouthful ungracefully and swallowing. “. . .burnt my tongue. . .” he pants, looking around for a glass.

Bad, who had looked a little alarmed, now put his head on the side, grinning. “- still hot.” he says, handing a cup of water to our mannerless companion, who scoffs it and holds out the glass for more.

“Get your own. The water is in the kitchen, right between the cold and hot taps. You can’t miss it.” I say smugly, carefully selecting a muffin and breaking off a piece so it cools quicker.

Shooting me a dirty look, Sapnap slouches back on the couch, not bothering to get up. “Haha – very funny.”

I eat the now room-temperature muffin, giving a fake look of surprise at Bad. “Hey, these are pretty good, Bad! I can’t think why Sapnap didn’t like them.”

Bad plays along, shrugging innocently. “Me neither! I used a very good recipe. Maybe he’s just doesn’t know what’s good for him?”

“Could be! After all, he hangs out with the ants, doesn’t he? So uncivilized.”

We both burst out laughing even though neither of us have said anything that funny. This conversation is so absurd. Finally Sapnap’s expression lifts a little and he gives a begrudging smirk. “You guys are crazy.” he mutters, picking up a muffin.

“So, are we staying here tonight?” Bad asks, as gazes around the living room.

I nod. “There’s a guest room, and I have two mattresses we can set up out here. The coffee table can go up against the wall, there’ll be plenty of room.”

After discussing sleeping arrangements, Sapnap pulls out a game and decides we’re all going to play it. But after about twenty minutes actually playing, all of us realize it’s not working. Firstly, we’re all so sleep-deprived that no-one is concentrating on who’s turn it is, and secondly - it’s not keeping our minds off the one thing we don’t want to think about.

So we make other plans. We’ll have lunch, and then we’ll go back to the hospital.

Because really, there’s nothing else to do.

xxxDotHxxx

Walk through hospital sliding glass doors -

Check.

Register at desk -

Check.

Walk down the corridor -

Check.

Underneath the flickering fluorescent light that needs replacing -

Check.

As we walk through the hospital hallways yet again, I find myself mentally checking off the different stages before we reach Dream’s room.

This time, I let Sapnap visit first.

I sit silently in the waiting room, wondering what on earth I’m doing back here. It seemed like such a good idea earlier, but as usual, whenever I arrive I feel apprehension and dread twist my guts into knots that are impossible to undo. I’m nearly falling asleep in my chair when Bad comes and shakes me gently by the shoulder, telling me it’s my turn. I look up at him blearily.

He’s already had his turn? My brain feels muddled as I settle down at Dream’s bedside, whispering a ‘hello’ and nothing more. I’ve said all I can think of saying. I hold his limp hand, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the monitor and Dream’s deep, even breaths.

in, out. . . in, out. . .in, out. . .

I grow steadily tireder as I sit there, unsure of what I should be doing. I feel awful when my head nods and I have to jolt myself awake. Selfish – Dream’s lying right there and you’re falling asleep! Have some consideration!

in, out. . .in, out. . . out, in out, in. . .

out in. . . out in. . . out in. . . out in

I snap out of my dazed state. Something is wrong. Dream is breathing differently. His peaceful expression has changed to a frown of discomfort, and he seems to be struggling for breath. The beeps have picked up speed, pacing quickly. I lean forward, gripping his hand tightly as Dream gives a pained moan, muttering something incoherently. His brows furrow and he shifts position restlessly. He looks like he’s trapped in the depths of a nightmare.

Oh my god what am I doing quickly do something – he could be dying and I’m just standing here oh my god go get someone. I jump up and I’m about to go call a nurse when I am frozen in my tracks as Dream’s fingers tighten around my hand. Without warning his eyes open, and I’m staring into green eyes the colour of a bright, sunlit forest. They’re glazed with pain but I could swear I see a flicker of recognition pass through them before it is replaced with alarm. His gaze darts over the room, breathing raggedly. He stammers something I can’t understand, sounding panicky and uncharacteristically scared and in pain. Releasing my hand, he reaches up and begins to feebly paw at the oxygen mask.

My heart leaps to my mouth as I scramble to think of what to say. “No Dream! Don’t! Dream? It’s okay! It’s George – y-you’re alright!”

I push his hand gently away from the mask, and Dream’s eyes close again and his chest rises and falls labouriously as he continues his unintelligible muttering. He sounds delirious - his face is flushed and sweat is beginning to soak through the bandages on his forehead. I think he’s lapsed into unconsciousness again.

Dr. Ranlow enters the room, followed by several nurses. He gives me a reassuring look as the nurses shoo me out of the room as politely as they can. I peer through the window, trying to catch a glimpse of Dream through the nurses gathered around his bed.

Dream was here. . .

My mind is in a whirl as I make my way to the waiting room to find Sapnap and Bad and tell them what happened. I’m exhausted but full of elation.

Dream was just here. . . and I was there for him.

TBC. . .

Chapter Text

I hurry into the waiting room, where Bad and Sapnap are sitting. One look at my face and they are both on their feet, staring and peppering me with questions.

“George what is it?”

“Is Dream – is he okay?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Why are you -”

I sit down beside them, trembling slightly. “D-dream – Dream woke up.” That’s all I can stammer, afraid I’m going to start crying. I focus on my fingers, twisting them together. Dream was just holding my hand. . .

Bad and Sapnap both gasp, leaning closer. “He’s awake? Oh my goodness! C-can we go see him?” Bad chokes out, face lighting up.

Shaking my head, I look up. “He’s unconscious again now - but I was just sitting there and he suddenly began breathing funny and then he – he opened his eyes.” I say quickly, feeling lightheaded. “He said something – he sounded delirious though, b-but he was awake. Then Dr. Ranlow and some nurses came in and said I could go.” I’m on the verge of tears again for some stupid reason. I should be happy! I am! Why am I crying?

Sapnap pats me on the shoulder. “You okay?” he asks, smiling. His face is pale but happy. I nod, unable to say anything more. Will he be okay? He sounded so – terrified. Please be alright, Dream. I’m sorry for being such a horrible friend.

“Come on, George.” Bad flicks his glasses out of the way and rubs his eyes, then stands up. “Let’s go home and get some rest.”

For the second or third time, I realize how much more of a mess we’d be in without BadBoyHalo here to be the voice of common sense and reason. Yes, I’m tired. So tired that I’d like to curl up on this sofa and not wake up until everything was alright again. Until Dream was fine. Until I can learn to be a better friend.

But despite that I would have just continued to sit here, clouded by dark thoughts, not knowing what to do. Bad knows.

As we head towards the exit, Bad halts abruptly. “Oh, just wait here! I need to go ask. . .” He goes over to the reception desk, and hands a small container to the young nurse sitting behind it. She smiles and nods, and Bad comes back over to us.

“What were you doing?” Sapnap asks.

Bad shrugs and the corner of his mouth lifts into a simple, honest smile. “I told you about it earlier – I just left some muffins for Dream.”

xxxDotHxxx

Once we leave the hospital, Bad and Sapnap decide to go collect the rest of their luggage from the hotels they were staying in. I wait in the taxi, watching dust particles drift through the warm rays of the afternoon sun that shine through my window. It kind of reminds me of the shaders in a Minecraft modpack Dream and I once tested out together. We had a lot of fun with it, but. . . I don’t want to think about it! I don’t want to think about Dream! I know that sounds terrible, but I don’t. My head hurts too much when I think about him, because this is my fault. My fault he’s been hurt.

He will be fine.

He might have died. He might never be able to play Minecraft again. His whole life might change – for the worse. And it’s my fault. I’m to blame.

Dream is going to be alright.

All I have to do is be there for him. I won’t try to help him – because I’ll screw up. I’ll Just Be There.

He’ll understand. He always does.

Finally, the others are done and we’re on our way to my place again. I force a smile onto my face and joke around with them, because I don’t want to upset my companions. I don’t want to be a burden to them any more than I already am. They are both in high spirits because Dream awoke.

When we arrive home, it’s just beginning to get dark. The first few stars are starting to shimmer in the purple sky, and a cool breeze is blowing. We go inside, and sit down on the couch.

Sapnap pretends to put his feet on the coffee table but I just raise an eyebrow and stare at him until he decides not to. “What’s on the menu for dinner, George?” he queries, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

I don’t have a lot in my pantry. “Well, remember what I offered you earlier? The offers still stand.” I say hopefully. I really don’t want to be cooking tonight. I haven’t been to the shops in ages.

Bad beams around. “Okay – then let’s get takeaways!” he says. “What’s Dream’s favourite type of pizza? We’ll get it to celebrate that he’s going to be okay!”

Such a typical Bad-ism. I feel a stab of pain as he talks so happily about Dream. He’s lucky. This isn’t his fault. He has nothing to regret.

“Yeah, good idea! Right, George?” Sapnap immediately pulls up a pizza menu on his phone. “I’ll order!”

I blink. Well, that was quick. Determinedly, I push all negative thoughts from my mind, burying them deep in my subconscious. I’m not going to let any more of my selfish feelings ruin the evening. If I hadn’t been so selfish earlier, none of this nightmare would have taken place.

“Sure!” I grin, getting up. “I have the perfect tablecloth for the occasion.” I pull a red-checkered one from a cupboard, and Bad is very pleased. He spreads it neatly over the coffee table.

So apparently we’re going to eat here. Right. I get some cups and apple juice from the kitchen, receiving a snigger from Sapnap, who is messing around with the TV controls. I stick my nose in the air and ignore him. There’s nothing funny about apple juice. Honestly, some people. . .

“Hey Gogy how on earth are you supposed to get this to work? Your remotes are scuffed!” Sapnap moans irately, flinging it down on the couch.

I retrieve it in a dignified manner and glance over it. “You know, it helps if you use the right one, idiot.” I say with amusement, passing the correct control over to him. He huffs and quickly turns on the TV.

Bad laughs as he switches through the channels. “Find something for us to watch while we eat, Sapnap.”

Sapnap snorts and says nothing but I can see he’s trying to hide a grin.

The delivery of pizza arrives and we spread the boxes out over the table. As we gather around it to eat everyone pauses, and I can’t help but notice how there is an empty spot on the couch right beside me, and none of the others have taken it. It looks like we’re waiting for someone else – someone who we know isn’t going to be here.

I swallow. “Let’s eat!” I say, breaking the tense silence. We all take a piece and then some form of conversation resumes, but the atmosphere is different. None of are enjoying our first proper meal together without Dream. I just stare at the TV, sort of watching whatever stupid show is playing, but not really. My mind is a million miles away when eventually Sapnap addresses me.

“I was supposed to be streaming tonight – do you think. . .”

Bad frowns. “Yes, you should. I think the fans have a lot of questions and this might be a good way to let them know what’s going on.”

That is exactly the opposite of how I want to handle the situation. I want to go into a dark room and sit on my bed and think about anything but the fans. I don’t tell the others that, though. I just give a barely perceptible nod and turn back to the screen.

So, after we’ve finished eating, Sapnap sets up his computer. Bad decides to get his out, and they both persuade me to turn on mine. “Do I have to be on voicecall?” I ask, making sure my camera is firmly OFF. Good. You know what? I’m not even going to be streaming – why am I checking the camera?

Sighing, Bad agrees. “No, I guess not.”

Sapnap begins streaming on the Dream SMP. Within minutes, he has gained one of the largest audiences he’s ever had on Twitch. He hesitates, mouse hovering over the ‘turn on donations’ button. He inhales deeply and clicks it.

Donation messages begin pouring in.

what’s happened sapnap please tell us more

Is Dream going to be alright?

When was the accident?

What was the surprise?

I listen to Sapnap’s calm, steady replies as I log onto the server. Straight away, even more condolence donos begin flooding in.

Let George know we’re thinking about him!

Gogy we’re praying for Dream!

Hope you’re all doing okay.

how do we know this isnt a massive troll?

Most of the messages and chat are full of support but some of them are making my blood boil. I skim over the flying live chat feed, glimpsing some that make me furious.

this is fake

is this a popularity stunt?

George isn’t even in the vc but he’s online what’s he trying to hide?

he’s not talking that means he’s scared becos they’re lying.

trolling like this isnt funny

dream’s just trying to get attention.

sapnap is lying

george don’t be stupid you’re not fooling us.

I’m staring in shock as I read them, hearing some donations read of a similar vein. Half of their claims make no sense! There’s no logic to them! What the hell is wrong with these people? Would they they trolling a huge fanbase over such a serious matter? We’re no different to them!!! Why would I fucking joke about my best friend lying in hospital, seriously injured? He NEARLY DIED! HOW CAN YOU EVEN THINK THIS IS A PRANK?

I begin to type a message in SMP chat, tears of rage stinging my eyes and hands fumbling over the keyboard.

<GeorgeNotFound> This is not a troll! Dream could have died, please stop assuming this is a joke. It’s NOT. He was badly injured – it’s a miracle he wasn’t killed. Please don’t say we’re lying, we’re NOT and if you think we are then why are you still here???!!!

Just before I send it I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I can see Bad’s pale, drawn face reflecting in my monitor screen. He’s turned off his computer and has been standing behind me for a while now. I edit my message a little and then send it, chills running through my spine.

Now half the chat and donos are apologizing for the ‘insensitive jerks’. I don’t want to listen anymore, I’m beginning to feel queasy just watching them. The only reason I’m staying online is to give Sapnap support. Everything he’s saying is starting to sound oddly echo-y and distorted, and then I realize I’m almost asleep in my seat. Time passes slowly, and when finally Sapnap ends the stream my whole body feels numb and cold. My legs and fingers are cramped painfully, and my head feels unbelievably heavy.

We walk silently out into the lounge room, and Bad has already set up the two mattresses with sheets and pillows. I don’t bother to ask him how he found where they were, all I do is drag some warm blankets from the cupboard and dump them on the couch for Bad and Sapnap to use. Then I murmur “Goodnight” and head to my room.

Collapsing on my bed, I remember I have to get up and change. It takes effort. The room seems to be spinning as I climb under the cold covers, closing my eyes and wishing I didn’t have to wake up in the morning. I’m so tired. I’m sorry. Dream I’m so sorry. I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you, just get better soon, please?

Everything will be okay. I promise. . .

TBC. . .

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Chapter Text

I have a hard time sleeping tonight.

Yes, I’m almost completely overwhelmed with fatigue. Yes, my eyes shut almost the moment my head touches the pillow. But I am never fully asleep. I drift in and out of hazy nightmares, never knowing whether what I’m seeing is real or just another figment of my imagination. It’s not a deep sleep that leaves you feeling alive and refreshed when you awaken from it.

When I fully wake early the next morning, I feel really strange. It’s so hot. Blinking slowly, I realize my blankets are in a tangled pile on the floor. My vision seems blurry as I look at my clock, reading the time as 3:54AM. With a sigh, I throw my arm over my forehead, and I’m surprised and disconcerted to feel unnatural warmth radiating from it. What the hell?

I’m so thirsty. . .

I shove myself into a sitting position and stumble to my feet, making my way across to the bathroom where I left a glass. I’m light-headed, and after a few sips of water I lean back exhausted against the wall, feeling the sharp coolness of the tiles against my heated skin. Why do I feel awful? What’s wrong with me?

It takes far too much energy to walk back over to my bed. I slump down, feverishly scrubbing a hand over my face. I want to lie back down and go to sleep but I’m afraid if I do then I won’t be able to get up in the morning. I’m not thinking straight.

Not now - this is no time to be feeling unwell. I have guests over and my best friend is in hospital – I have so much to do. . .

Everything is a mess. I’ve stuffed up again.

I can’t go back to sleep I guess I’ll just read maybe? I’m fine I’ll be fine everything is fine. . .

I can’t bear the thought of turning on my phone now. But the lamplight is painfully bright, and when I try reading with a torch the words start contorting and dancing around on the page until I start feeling nauseous.

I’m so tired. . .

. . . so tired. . .

. . .tired. . .

I fall into a fitful sleep before I even realize it.

xxxDotHxxx

“-eorge? Gogy? Can you h-”

“Shhhhh you muffinhead don’t wake him! Look, I think he’s got a fever – poor muffin, let him rest.”

“He was fine yesterday. . .”

I am only half-awake when I hear quiet voices conversing beside me. My head aches, and I’m too hot. Someone’s put the covers on me again. With a low moan, I feebly try to push my blankets off.

“No, George – leave them.” Bad’s concerned voice sounds distant, like he’s far away, or speaking under water, or something. I open my eyes with effort to see Bad leaning over me, with Sapnap hovering nearby. The room is a lot lighter now, and I know it must be some time late morning. Both of them are still in pyjamas.

Sapnap smirks. “Good afternoon, Gogy.”

Oh no – I was supposed to be up before now – I’ve gotta get up and get them breakfast or something. . . I glance at the two of them. “How long have you guys been awake?” I ask, twisting around and resting on one shoulder.

Bad looks at his watch. “Oh, not that long. Like, maybe half an hour or so. It’s a bit past eight.” He puts his head on the side, smiling at me. “How do you feel, George?” he queries, “You’ve got a temperature – and you look awful.”

I shrug, feigning indifference. “Huh, thanks a lot.” I say with fake joviality. “I feel fine.” I lie, rubbing the sleep out my eyes. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. “What do you guys want for breakfast? I’ll go make something. Sorry I slept in.” I say apologetically.

“I don’t think you should get up.” Bad falters, unconvinced.

“I’m fine!” Summoning strength from who knows where, I stand up and quickly pull on a hoodie that was lying over the end of my bed. Much too fast. I’m so dizzy.

I’ve barely taken one step towards the door when black spots begin to eat away at my vision. The bedroom starts spinning and I lean heavily against the wall, head pounding. Then my legs give way and I find myself sliding to the floor. Someone catches me and the next thing I know, Sapnap has my arm over his shoulder and is easing me down on the bed. Alarmed voices flit about my ears but I can’t quite make out what they’re saying.

Want to sleep. . . feel horrible. . . so hot. . . so tired. . .

A cold, damp cloth is pressed gently to my forehead, and I flinch away, suddenly shivering. Warm blankets are drawn over me and the room is darkened. Finally, the voices fade out completely and everything goes black.

I don’t remember sleeping, I don’t know how long I slept, but slowly I come back to reality and I must have made some noise because Bad instantly begins to ask anxious questions.

“George? Are you okay? George?”

I mumble something in reply, and half-open my eyes. Some time must have passed, because there is a jug of water beside my bed and both Sapnap and Bad have gotten changed. Bad’s sitting on the end of my bed and Sapnap is on a chair beside me. Both their faces are somewhat fuzzy and I have to blink a few times before I can properly see them. The throbbing in my head has neither increased or decreased, but the cool, wet cloth still on my forehead is helping a bit, I think. The nervousness of their expressions hits me hard, and I feel instant regret for making them worry about me.

There I go again – being useless and a burden.

“Are you alright, George?” Bad looks down at me. “Do you want some water?”

“S-sorry.” I stammer, trying to sit. “I’m okay.”

Sapnap pushes me back. “No you don’t, Gogy. You gave us quite a scare, suddenly passing out like that. You’re not going anywhere.”

I’m confused, my gaze flickers from Sapnap to Bad. “I passed out? How long – was I – what happened?”

“You silly muffin – I told you not to get up earlier and you said you were fine. Then you started walking out of the room and just – collapsed in front of us.” Bad says softly. “It’s only been an hour or so. You’ve been talking in your sleep a lot.”

“What did I say?” I ask tensely, afraid of what my subconscious might have betrayed.

Bad shakes his head reassuringly, offering me another pillow to put behind my back. “Oh - we could hardly understand. It was just weird muttering, really. How much sleep have you been getting lately, George?”

“Enough.” I say untruthfully. I had very little the week prior to this due to work and preparation for this visit, and little to none these last few days.

Sapnap raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t know how much you think is ‘enough’, but you obviously need a lot more.” Bad says emphatically. “Did you know that stress and lack of sleep can cause low fevers? You need to rest and try not to worry so much.”

How can I not worry? Dream is in hospital in a critical condition! Yes he’s going to be okay but I may have just ruined his life! It’s alright for you – this isn’t your fault he’s hurt.

“I’m sorry.” I respond, ashamed. I sink back into the pillow.

Bad seems to have read my mind. “I know you’re worried about Dream – we all are. He’s our friend too. And it’s not your fault that he’s been in an accident. It could have happened to anyone! Maybe it did happened to Dream because someone knew he’s tough enough to get through it. It might have been you in that taxi, George! Imagine Dream in your place – if he was blaming himself and stressing out over it to the point where he collapsed like you, what would you say to him? How would you feel?”

I take a deep breath. “I guess – I would be upset for – for upsetting him so much.”

Bad gave me a small smile. “Exactly. Now, if Dream could see the condition you’re in right now– all because of him, mind you, what would he say to you?”

I can feel a lump forming in my throat. “You idiot, George.” I say in a choked laugh.

Sapnap voices his opinion, trying to lighten the mood. “He’d say ‘I’m going to be fine – don’t be an idiot and stop worrying about me so much. Listen to your Uncle Sapnap and Auntie Bad and get better.”

“Hey!” Bad protests loudly, but he’s laughing too.

Sapnap winks at me. “Would you rather ‘DadBoyHalo’ then?” he asks.

“No I wouldn’t, Mister Snapmap! Now you go out to the kitchen and find something to have for breakfast.” Bad retorts. Sapnap draws himself up indignantly and strides out of the room, a look of mock aggravation on his face and mumbling something about ‘MumBoyHalo’ as well.

I give a halfhearted smile as he leaves. I’m already feeling a little better. Everything Bad has said makes total sense. “You haven’t had breakfast yet?” I ask guiltily.

Bad turns back to me, grinning. “No – we were a little busy.” he says innocently. “Okay, George – what are we going to do with you? You need to rest if you want to be well enough to visit Dream this afternoon.”

I curse inwardly. I wanted to go visit Dream as early as possible, but now that seems completely out of the question. I can hardly sit up without feeling dizzy and light-headed, let alone standing.

“We can’t go now?” I hopefully ask, despite knowing exactly what the answer will be. It never hurts to ask.

“No way.” Bad dismisses the idea immediately. “I want you to stay right here and relax till at least 3pm, alright? Are you hungry?”

I pause, considering. “Uhhh – maybe – a bit?” I reply. Really, I’m not, but that would just worry Bad.

He looks pleased. “Good! Now, the best thing for you would be some soup – chicken soup! I’m going to make you some.”

I sigh inaudibly. That’s one of the last things I want. But Bad looks so happy – he’s in his element caring for me. I decide to let him. And yeah, the soup will probably be good for me.

The door opens and a hungry-looking Sapnap peers in. “Gogy, you have the worst pantry I’ve ever seen. There isn’t even any cereal! What the heck do you eat?”

I open my mouth to reply but Bad forestalls me. “Listen, George, I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. Sapnap and I will go shopping, and you will stay here in this bed and rest until we get back. It’ll be nice and quiet.”

With a resigned nod, I realize that I’m exhausted again. I lie back as Bad places a hand on my forehead, and I can’t help shuddering as his ‘cold’ hand contacts my feverishly warm face. Bad looks sympathetically at me. “Aww, you poor muffin. I’ll bring your computer over, but make sure to get some sleep too. Don’t forget to call us if you need anything, okay? C’mon, Sapnap.” Bad smiles again and the pair of them leave the room. He’s back in a moment, giving me my computer and making sure I have enough water, and then he’s gone. I hear the front door shut.

It’s silent. So silent. I press my face against the coolest spot on the pillow. That feels nice. . .

Bad was right. I do need to rest. He was right about Dream. I’m sorry for being an idiot. I promise I’ll be better before I see you next, Dream.

I don’t even look at my phone – Twitter and the rest of the world can wait. I flip open the computer, and after hovering the mouse over the Youtube icon for a moment, I move it away and open the library instead, navigating through folder after folder.

My Files > Youtube> YoutubeVideos > Un-uploaded > Scrapped Ideas > Minecraft, But Challenges >

I know what I want to watch. Whenever we record challenge videos, I save them in my folders. Some challenges sound like good idea at the time, such as Minecraft, but there are Ants - Actually, that was never a good idea, but we were overtired and somewhat hysterical when we coded that one.

We watched back the recording the next day, and while we found it hilarious, we knew it would be a hopeless Youtube video. I don’t know what Dream did with his POV, but I saved mine.

I’ve saved a lot of scrapped videos.

And right now, I want to re-watch, re-live something that was just between me and Dream. One of the few things that belong to us still untouched my our fanbase. Something the world will never see.

Something we did together. Not for the Youtube, not for views, not for the fans.

But because we are friends.

Slowly I scroll through the many files, selecting one and clicking Open.

TBC. . .

Lol I just felt like writing some Gogy hurt/comfort so this is what happened :) Poor guy.

But at least he maybe he won't feel so guilty? Perhaps he is beginning to realize that all this isn't his fault.

:)

And did you know that stress and sleep deprivation can cause what's called a psychogenic fever?

Chapter Text

Did I actually fall asleep? Yawning, I blink sleep from my eyes and realize the computer is still sitting on my chest, and I’m half-lying, half-sitting on my bed.

Last thing I recall was watching clips from old videos, and then – nothing. I must have drifted off. Gosh, it feels weird to be in bed at this time of day. Looking at the clock, I surmise that I must have slept for about forty minutes or so. I feel a little better, but my head still feels pretty strange, and the room is too warm because the blinds and windows are all shut. After debating internally for a moment or two, I decide to try getting up.

This may or may not be the brightest idea. I think, as I shakily get to my feet. For a minute, I just stand there, taking deep breaths and praying that the black fog threatening to cloud my vision will go away. Eventually it clears and I manage to open the blinds a little. The light does not help my headache, and when I slid the window across the breeze instantly makes me start shivering again. Slowly pulling on a jumper, I quietly make my way out to the lounge-room, taking my phone with me. I’m bored.

I slump down on the couch, sighing. That small trip has left me feeling totally drained and I’m worried that I won’t have the energy to visit Dream later. I don’t know what I should do – lie down and rest, or get up and walk around to hopefully shake off this horrible fatigue.

Turning on my phone, I exhale heavily again as I see the notifications from Twitter come through. Idly, I scroll through the feed, #GetWellDream is trending. Half the tweets are apologizing for what happened on stream last night. I see messages of encouragement, well-wishes, and condolence. There are also Discord dms from the Dream SMP, all of the gang knew about this meet-up. They’ve received the messages I sent yesterday, and I spend a bit of time talking with them. I think every one of them has replied.

<TommyInnit> Holy shit!!! Not big D I hope he’s gonna be okay

<KarlJacobs> Oh dear god what happened is he okay? Are you alright too? I saw the stream!

<ItsFundy> Anything you want, George? Need anything? I’m so sorry

<Tubbo_> Oh my god i hope he’s alrite george are u ok 2?

<Technoblade> I’m real sorry George. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.

<WilburSoot> Oh shit this is terrible – anymore news, George?

<awesamdude> how is this happening? How’s Dream? You guys okay too, George?

<Philza> Oh god hope he’ll be okay – I’m really sorry

<Punz> No no no what the hell this is not good any updates, george?

And that’s less than a quarter of the dms I received.

<GeorgeNotFound> Thanks everyone.

I have good news – yesterday when we were at the hospital Dream woke up – he was delirious but he at least he was awake briefly. We’re going back later to see him again.

We’re all doing okay here otherwise

<BadBoyHalo> Poor George has a fever and isn’t well because he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, so if his temperature hasn’t gone down by this evening he’ll have to stay home and rest.

And George you should be sleeping now, okay?

I am surprised when Bad’s message pop up a few minutes after I post mine. He must have had his phone on or something. A slow smile creeps across my face. Bad is genuinely concerned for me and doesn’t think I’m a burden or anything.

And that’s a reassuring thought.

I decide to call Bad and Sapnap to see where they are. Bad answers the video call and immediately starts asking how I am. “Hey George! Did you get some sleep? How are you feeling? Any better?”

I shrug. “Yes and yes. What are you guys doing?”

“We’re nearly at the checkout, look at all the stuff we got!” Bad grins, turning the camera around and revealing a basket full of groceries – apples, breadrolls, chocolate, carrots, celery, chicken, and. . . tinned pineapple?

“Pineapple?” I ask with a quizzical glance at the phone.

Sapnap looks a little embarrassed as he explains. “I like pineapple. So what?”

I smile in amusement as they give me a ‘virtual tour’ of the store, which I find hilarious seeing as I go there quite often and know far more about it then they do. As they go through the checkout I lie back on the couch, closing my eyes and wishing the dull ache in my forehead would go away.

“Shhhh Sapnap he’s asleep.” I hear Bad whisper, but I don’t have the energy to contradict him as they quietly hang up. Slowly reaching over, I shakily pull a neatly-folded blanket from the end of the sofa and spread it over me. The room has been tidied, the mattresses standing innocuously in the corner, and all the blankets I gave my friends to use have been folded in a pile. I bet Bad did that, after arguing Sapnap into helping him. I feel bad that I wasn’t up before them, and now they are looking after their host.

Useless useless useless

I’m not I’m not please stop. . .

it’s not my fault this isn’t my fault I know that. . .

Some time passes, and I’m stuck in that horrible, in-between state of slumber, where every slight noise penetrates and hurts my head, but I’m unable to fully realize what it is or do anything about it.

Finally, the sound of something being dropped and BadBoyHalo vehemently calling Sapnap a muffinhead brings me to my senses and I reopen my eyes. They are in the kitchen, unloading the stuff they bought into the cupboards. “Hi.” I say, tentatively sitting up.

Sapnap looks over and gives a sheepish grin. “Hello Georgie. We got you cereal, if you want breakfast. Even though it’s nearly lunchtime. I’m having some.”

“No thanks.” I say as Bad comes over with a glass of water for me and sits down on the opposite couch. “So what are we doing now?” I ask. “Want to play a game or something?”

Bad leans over and feels my forehead, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Your temperature has gone down a bit, George! That’s good!”

I return the smile. Even though I actually don’t feel much better than when I woke up this morning, I’m not going to let that show. With a nod I push away the blankets. “Yeah, I feel pretty okay.”

“No, stay there. I’ll get what you want. The more you rest, the better you’ll feel.” Still not wanting me to get up, Bad beams at me and proceeds to make me comfortable. “Now, I’m going to make us all some nice hot chicken soup for lunch, okay?”

I really don’t want Bad to go to so much trouble, but he assures me it’s no effort at all. “I already bought the ingredients,” he says, “And besides, I like cooking!”

Reluctantly I agree and soon the sound of chopping vegetables echoes through the room. Sapnap and I look at each other, trying to read what’s on our minds. Finally Sapnap lets out a sigh. “Okay Gogy – what would you like to do?”

“There’s a deck of cards on the shelf over there.” I suggest.

He fetches them and shuffles the pack, before gazing at me inquiringly. “What game?”

I don’t know, or really care that much. “Well. . . I could play Go Fish or Snap with you – unless you know anything else.” I remark slyly

He took it as a taunt. “Oh yeah, Mr. I-Know-More-Than-You?” He says with mock indignance, rapidly dealing out a game of Speed. “Then beat me at this!”

I sort out my cards, grinning and mumbling under my breath, “Awww, I wanted to play Snap-map.” Bad gives a peal of laughter but hurriedly pulls a straight face as Sapnap turns to give a fake glare in his direction.

I do okay for the first few rounds, but then I quickly get exhausted and my opponent easily sweeps through and claims victory.

“Hah. I won.” Sapnap declares as he scoops the cards into a pile

Laying down the remainder of my hand, I shrug. “That’s not really fair. . .”

“Yes Sapnap, George isn’t well. He probably wasn’t playing his best.” Bad pipes up from the kitchen.

“A cheap victory.” I assert.

“Huh.” Sapnap snorts and puts the cards back. “Bad – how much longer is that going to take? It’s been hours and I’m starving!”

Bad puts his head on the side. “Firstly, no it hasn’t, and secondly if you were in the kitchen helping me maybe it would have gotten done quicker. It’s nearly ready anyway.”

The soup smells really good but I’m not that hungry. However, I don’t want to disappoint Bad, so when he brings over a mug full of steaming chicken soup, I accept it without complaining. We turn on the TV and sit there watching stuff until they’ve finished their meal. I managed to drink about half but not all of the soup, and Bad tries to encourage me to finish, but I just shake my head. I’m starting to feel cold and sleepy again.

Bad is concerned. “How about this, George? You go sleep until later this afternoon, and then we’ll wake you so we can go see Dream together. Yes? Because I don’t really think you’ll be up to it unless you get more rest.”

“What will you do though?” I yawn, putting down the mug. Definitely sounds like a good idea.

“Don’t worry – we can just play Minecraft or something.” Sapnap offers, and Bad nods in agreement

I’m not going to argue.

Four hours later, we are all standing outside the hospital. I’ve got a warm hoodie on and still rubbing sleep out of my eyes. Despite when Bad awoke me to leave he was unwilling to let me go, I quickly got up and forced myself to be fine.

At the reception desk, when we introduce ourselves to the young nurse and tell her who we’re here to see, she gives us a wide smile. “You’ve come at a good time – he’s awake and Dr. Ranlow is in there with him now.”

We all gasp simultaneously and the nurse laughs. “Just take a seat over there and I’ll let you know when you can go see him.”

Bad is talking non-stop. “Oh my gosh holy muffins he’s awake oh my goodness I’m so happy!”

Sapnap can’t stop smiling. I feel so relieved but tense at the same time. Will he recognize me? What if he doesn’t?

Dubious thoughts twist my gut. it’s my fault if that happens – I’ve seen him now but this is his first time seeing me irl. . . will he be angry?

Why would he be angry?

Stupid questions that make no logical sense spin through my mind as I sit on the sofa, hands clenched in nervous anticipation. This is all totally irrational and I know it!

Why am I so nervous?

I should be happy and excited!!!

Finally, Dr. Ranlow comes over and greets us. “You ready? I think you should go in one at a time. He’s still pretty out of it – mild sedation, the like, and he’s still in a fair bit of pain despite the medication we gave him, so speak quietly and don’t wear him out too much, huh?” The doctor smiles at our eager faces. “Just let him know you’re there and maybe tell him what you’ve been doing. Don’t let him talk to much. We told him he was in an accident but I don’t think he remembers the circumstances. Who’s going in first?”

Before I know what I’m doing, my hand has raised itself and I’m volunteering. “Can I please?” I ask, swallowing my fear. I’m not going to be afraid anymore. I can only imagine how scared Dream was – or is, waking up in a hospital surrounded by strangers, in pain, unable to move and not knowing how he got there. I’m not going to let him see how scared I was that we were going to lose him. I’m gonna help him get through this as much as he helps me through my own tough times..

At least, I’m going to try.

TBC. . .

Hehehe sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger XD

And yes, that was a Lovejoy reference in there lol

Have a good day!!! :)

Chapter Text

I slowly push the door open, glancing up at the figure who is half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, his back resting on several pillows.

Dream has his eyes closed, and he’s breathing slowly and carefully as if each breath is painful. He’s still using the oxygen mask. IV drips are hung about him.

I shut the door as quietly as I can, and Dream’s eyes tiredly flicker open. He looks at me for a moment, confused disbelief crossing his features before the corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly.

“H-hey, Dream.” I whisper, moving to the chair beside his bed and sitting down, taking in every detail about him. He looks so different now he’s awake. He looks – so young and boyish – more like a nineteen year old than just-turned 21. His tousled sandy-blond hair that falls forward messily over his bandaged forehead, his freckles, and wide-eyed expression only adds to the effect.

God, he looks exhausted.

He stares at me for a long time, his bright green eyes flitting from my face to my shoes and back. He looks a little dazed and still seems unable to believe I’m actually here. “G-george?” Dream manages, voice muffled by the mask.

The same voice it’s still the same. I’ve not heard it in so long. He remembers oh thank God.

“Yes – it’s me.” I choke out, so relieved to hear him talk. Despite how different he looks, he still sounds the same. It’s still Dream, under all the bandages and worry and pain.

Dream gives a small smile, swallowing. “W-where am I?”

I hesitate. Do I tell him everything that’s happened? Or will it be too much for him? “Remember the meet-up, Dream? You, me, Sapnap and Bad? What do you remember?”

Blinking, Dream takes a moment to reply. “Y-yeah – in London – we were – uhhh. . .” He looks up at me, nervous. “I – I d-don’t know. . . what h-happened – I don’t know. . .oh my god. . .I don’t kn-”

I feel anxiety rising in my own chest as I watch Dream start to panic. He looks so scared as his eyes darts over the room, as if looking for an escape. “No Dream, listen! It’s fine! Okay? It’s fine!” I say, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly “Listen, please? You’re okay! I’ll tell you everything, alright? Just calm down, okay?”

Dream slumps back, worn out. “M’kay. . .” he mumbles, eyelids drooping. I stay quiet for a minute, wondering if I should let him sleep. Suddenly he reopens his eyes and stares at me. “Tell me, please?”

I nod. “We were going to Pizza Hut for dinner – all four of us. We got there first and – and we were waiting for you to arrive.” Tears sting my eyes as I recount the events of the past few days, re-living inside my mind the worry and fear I felt. “I got a call saying you were in an accident. . . we came to the hospital . . . you nearly died. . . we visited you every day. . . you’re gonna be okay now. . .”

The entire time, Dream fixes his gaze on me, taking in every word. Finally, my narrative grinds to a halt and I’m unable to speak anymore because it hurts so much. “Are y-you going to be okay too, George?” he asks.

The concern in his voice undoes me completely. He has a broken arm and leg, a head injury, probably in a lot of pain, and he’s worried about me.

About ME.

“Yeah – yes. . .” I sniff, half-laughing, half-crying. “I – was – we were all so worried about you. . . you nearly didn’t make it. . .”

“Don’t be an idiot, George – I’m okay.” Dream jokes, smiling sadly. He looks upset that I’m such an emotional wreck. “I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me, okay?” I give a sobbing laugh that’s almost exactly what I imagined he’d say earlier when Bad and Sapnap asked this morning. Dream’s face falls. “I’m sorry, George. ’m real sorry. You guys have b-been worried sick over me – I ruined the meet-up, everything.”

“No – it’s not your fault! Look, you m-made it! We can still do stuff! It’ll be g-great, only a few weeks late, is all!” I hastily counter, rubbing my eyes. “Look, let’s change the subject, okay?”

A sound from the other side of the room makes us look up. Dr. Ranlow peers around the door, smiling. “How’s it going, fellas? Just five more minutes, okay George? And you, Clay – just relax and don’t get too exhausted, alright?”

He leaves and I awkwardly look sideways at Dream, who also seems a little uncomfortable. I shrug. “I – if you want – I could call you Clay, if you preferred.” I ask. The name sounds strange on my tongue.

Dream shakes his head, immediately wincing. “No – Dream’s good.” he says carefully. “But not too loud.” He glances down painfully at his hands. His right forearm is in a stiff white cast, as is his lower leg. Tugging absently at the blankets, he seems to remember something. “Have you t-told – the fans?” he asks, a nervous, uncertain edge in his voice. “Do they know where I am – or what happened?”

I hurriedly try to reassure him. “No – don’t worry about it! I only told our friends, and the rest of the fans think you had a crash somewhere in Florida. We told them the surprise is postponed.”

Dream sighs heavily – I think in relief. “Good. Thanks, George. . . I just d-don’t want t-to cause any more drama than I already have. . .”

I frown – that last part he added onto the sentence kinda seemed a little out of the blue and I look at him closely. Times like these, when he says almost random, self-depreciating remarks, remind me that he is actually younger than me. So many times Dream’s helped me through rough times in my life that I often find myself looking up to him, forgetting I’m several years his senior and not the only one who needs occasional encouragement or self-assurance. Those kind of remarks are common but he usually doesn’t elaborate – so we end up just overlooking it because he brushes it off when I press the matter.

Perhaps I should have asked more. . .

Dream shifts, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “Well – so you finally know what I look like.” he says after a moment. “I never thought it’d b-be like this . . . I guess Sapnap and Bad do too?”

He never goes into anymore detail about how he feels – just like normal . . .but I don’t want to press him into answering anything I ask “Yes.” I reply, before giving him an amused grin. “Y’know, though, I still haven’t seen you without a mask on.”

Dream is motionless for a minute or so, deep in thought. Then he begins raising his good hand to his face, fumbling with the strap of the oxygen mask.

“Wait Dream – I don’t think. . .” I trail off as Dream slowly, tiredly, pulls the mask down off his face until it’s hanging about his neck.

Blinking dizzily, he turns towards me, breathing laboured. “H-how’s th-that l-look?” He falters over his words, before letting his head fall back on the pillow.

It’s too much. . . he needs to rest now. . . “Amazing, Dream.” I smile, withholding the anxiousness in my voice as I reach over and gently put the mask back on him properly. He’s gone pale, his face is damp with sweat. “You okay?” I ask quietly.

“m’ head hurts.” Dream mumbles sleepily, brows furrowed in pain. “an’ it hurts all over. . .”

He looks awful and has dropped any pretense of being ‘fine’. The dark circles under his eyes are very pronounced, and he’s shaking slightly. He must be in immense pain for him to actually tell me that he is – I know from experience he’ll refuse to admit he’s feeling unwell until he literally collapses during a recording session or voicecall. Thank god Sapnap is usually there with him and makes sure he gets some rest. Often, Dream won’t stay in bed long enough and has a relapse a few days later because he pushed himself too hard.

I pull the blankets over him, my own feelings of exhaustion from earlier totally forgotten. Do I tell Bad and Sapnap to let him sleep and visit him later? Now I feel selfish for visiting first. “Dream?” I say in a low voice.

“Mmm?”

“Do you want Bad and Sapnap to come back later to see you?” I ask, not really expecting an answer. He sounds and looks a little delirious.

But I’m wrong – he eventually replies. “N-no – can I see them n-now?” Dream mutters, opening his eyes again. “Please?”

I sigh with relief. “Okay – I’ll go get them, okay?”

“’kay. . .”

I stand stiffly and head over to the door. Dr. Ranlow is waiting outside. “How is he?” he asks.

“He says his head hurts and he’s really pale.” I manage, still feeling overwhelmed at everything that is happening. “But he really wants to see our friends.” The doctor looks a little doubtful and I quickly continue. “Please? Just for a minute – they can go together.”

Dr. Ranlow frowns thoughtfully. “One minute. That’s all, alright? Go tell them.”

I thank him and hurry over to the waiting room, smiling widely.

“How is he?” Sapnap asks.

“Really tired. Dr. Ranlow says you can go together and have a minute with him.” I tell them. I still can’t believe everything that is going on. I’ve gone from being so scared to so worried to so happy. My mind doesn’t know what to think and I don’t know if my body can keep up

Suddenly, my legs buckle and I have to sit down on the couch. Bad watches me concernedly. “Okay George. You need to stay here and rest. I knew you should have stayed home.”

I shake my head assuredly. “No, I’m fine. I’m coming back with you.” I say firmly, standing as straight and still as I can. Bad sends Sapnap an uncertain glance but he nods. I feel grateful to Sapnap as we make our way back to Dream’s room. I stand back, letting my friends do all the talking. It’s only fair. Dream looks a little better – the brief rest must have helped.

Bad rushes over to Dream, gently brushing the hair back off his forehead. “Hi Dream! It’s Bad! And Sapnap!” he says softly.

Dream looks at him, blankly at first and then recognition registers in his sunlit-green eyes. “Hey.” Dream says, flashing a weak smile at the pair of them. “What’s up?”

Sapnap looks dazed with relief. “N-nothing much, Dream. How do you feel?” he stammers. “We were so worried. . .”

“I’m sorry.” Dream apologizes remorsefully, inwardly fighting to hold off the effects of the sedative meds. “Sorry to all of you. I really m-made a mess of things, d-didn’t I?”

A chorus of dissent echoes through the room as they both try to convince him that he didn’t. I am silent, wondering how on earth he could possibly even think that.

He had no idea this would happen, he couldn’t stop it happening, and now he’s blaming himself! Wh-

I just realize I was doing the exact same thing not more than six hours ago.

And I know how easy it is to think that it’s all your fault. I need to stop drowning in my own selfish thoughts and try my best to help Dream out of this.

“. . . and guess what, Dream? I even made you muffins! When you have something to eat you can ask them to bring them in, okay?”

With a half-smile, Dream nods. “Thanks.” He yawns, looking totally drained. Then he notices Sapnap and Bad’s anxious faces, and shrugs. “I’m okay. Just really tired.”

I remember what he said earlier, and can’t help admire how good an actor he is – to look at him, you’d just think he’s extremely exhausted. He doesn’t want the others to worry – but I know how he feels – I was with him before and he let down his guard.

He’s still in a lot of pain despite the medications. Dr. Ranlow comes in, and reminds us that time is up.

Dream manages a grin and a brief wave as we leave the room.

Just before we turn the corner, I glance back at the room. Dream has curled up as much as he can without disturbing the casts or the IV drip in his arm, and he’s clutching his head tightly with his uninjured hand. Honestly, he looks just like a kid in pain. I want to turn around and go back, to stay with him, but I know I can’t. I’m happy he’s awake, but it hurts me to see him in pain. He couldn’t feel anything while he was unconscious even though he was on the brink of life and death.

Bittersweet.

That’s the only way I can describe this feeling.

Bittersweet

TBC. . .

Ahhhh this upload is a week late I'm so sorry guys!

I managed to get mild concussion earlier last week and was feeling sick and sleepy for a few days - so I didn't feel up to editing and uploading the chapter I had planned at the time.

But it's okay because I think I'm feeling just about normal now and everything's great! Hope you enjoyed! :)

Chapter Text

Yes, I forgot to mention - the last part of the previous chapter was referencing 'Bittersweet' by Amanda Fagan

After our visit to Dream yesterday, I wasn’t able to think of much but him. I went straight to bed after we got home, not even waiting for dinner because I was so exhausted. My temperature had gone up, according to a concerned Bad, so both he and Sapnap made sure I was comfortable before turning off the lights and leaving me to go to sleep.

I woke up before both of them this morning, and stayed in my room. They are still sound asleep, Sapnap is sleep-talking and I can just hear him – but it doesn’t make any sense.

Currently, I’m scrolling through feeds on Twitter. Bad idea, I know, but there is nothing else to do. I feel a lot better than I did yesterday, and I need to do something.

I’ve already pulled out my notebook to start scribbling down ideas and things to do but I’m stuck after the first one,

- Visit Dream

I’m dying to call Dream to talk to him, just to hear his voice, but I’m pretty certain he’s either still asleep or in no condition to talk. His phone probably doesn’t even have any charge.

Twitter is still going crazy. Some people are speculating that the picture taken of me at a crash site was in indeed the same one Dream was in, and others are just plain-out calling me and Dream a liar, then there are loyal fans arguing against them. It is a mess. Some are dragging long-past dramas into the present situation, and it makes no sense.

Logoff @whiplash96

this is def a troll. dream is faking. george is lying, look at all the obvious evidence. why would we believe an egotistical guy like dream after he blatantly cheats at speedruns?

Mysstream @sunnysymmetry

Replying to @whiplash96

The speedruns in question have nothing to do with this current situation, and Dream has made it abundantly clear that he had no intention or knowledge of cheating!

Secondly, there is no supposed ‘obvious evidence’ for this to be a scam, and why would he make such a huge fanbase worried sick intentionally? Admittedly the ‘Vlog’ from last July was a troll, but he has repeatedly stated that he would never maliciously cause drama like this.

LuvaBee @friendlydreamon

Replying to @sunnysymmetry and @whiplash96

Dream’s always had the best intentions, and he wouldn’t knowingly scare the fans! I just hope he’s alright!

Logoff @whiplash96

Replying to @sunnysymmetry and @friendlydreamon

he’s shamming for views and sympathy because everyone hates his song. he’s a no-good selfish manipulator. where’s the ‘surprise’ they promised? this is it! why is everyone excited for it? it’ll just be the most vain thing ever, why even bother waiting?

All he wants is attention and drama, and all you stan simps are sticking up for him when you don’t even know what he’s really like

Mysstream @sunnysymmetry

Replying to @whiplash96 and @friendlydreamon

Why are you so concerned about the ‘surprise’ if you hate the poor guy? What are you even doing hanging around the so-called stans if you couldn’t care less about anything? We know just as much about Dream as you do, probably more, you can’t assume he’s a terrible man just because you don’t know him personally. If you really detest him that much, then just leave! And everyone has different opinions, I think his songs are great.

I feel a pounding headache begin to form in my temples as I read back and forth between the arguments. Everything is toxic and laced with hatred.

#CancelDream

#GetWellDream

I scrub my hands over my face, my cheeks flushed and warm with anger. I can’t let this make me mad. . .they’re just a bunch of stupid people on the internet. . .

The only thing I can be grateful is Thank God Dream hasn’t had to deal with this yet.

xxxDotHxxx

When we arrive at the hospital mid-morning to see Dream, Sapnap goes to see him first. I sit still, my mind wandering.

I hope Dream’s feeling better today. . . I wonder when he’ll be discharged. . . I hope he’s okay. . .

“. . .I said ‘George’!” Bad’s voice pierces through my thoughts and I look up hastily.

“Yeah?” I reply.

He gives me a curious, thoughtful stare. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been really quiet today.”

I shrug. “I guess so – why?”

Bad shakes his head offhandedly. “Oh no, it’s nothing. You just look like you’re worried about something.” He gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Dream is gonna be alright. You know that, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. It’s just that. . .” I pause, “I was on Twitter this morning.”

With a knowing nod, Bad sighs. “Pretty awful, isn’t it? I don’t understand why people can’t just get along. I mean, surely if you actually disliked someone so much then you’d want to stay away from them, instead of mingling with the well-meaning fans just so you can cause trouble, y’know?”

I give him a sad, amused look. “Yes. I think if I’d known it would have caused this much drama, I might never have started Youtube.” I say, half-jokingly. Bad laughs and the mood lightens a little.

Sapnap returns, face bright. “Bad, you’re next!” He says just a bit too loudly for my liking. There are a few kids sitting in the waiting room, and all it takes is for one keen-eyed youngster to recognize me or my friends before the cat is out of the bag. Because there is really no other reason we could possibly give to explain why we’re in the hospital.

Bad and I both shush Sapnap, and he looks embarrassed. “Oops. Sorry.” He whispers as he sits down. BadBoyHalo grins and leaves the room.

“How’s Dream?” I ask after a moment of silently waiting to see if anyone has noticed us.

Sapnap smiles happily. “He’s good!”

I twine my fingers together as I listen to my companion talking for a while. “Does he – have his phone?” I eventually ask. I really don’t want him to go online until after everything has calmed down a little. . .

“What?” Sapnap looks confused. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I just was wondering.”

Tilting his head, Sapnap considers. “Well, I didn’t see it anywhere or anything. But I don’t know. Why?”

I exhale heavily. “I don’t want Dream to see Twitter at the moment.” I finally say. “It’s probably stupid of me but I really think it will do more harm than good.”

Sapnap’s face falls. “Yeah. . . you’re right. Dream needs a break from constant hate messages and death threats. It’s a lot of stress on his shoulders, and I think if he maybe just stays away from it all for a few days it might help.”

I frown. Sapnap seems to be implying something, only I’m not sure what. “-help? Help what?” I sit up straight, my chest tightening uneasily. “Is he okay?

“No, it’s nothing.” Sapnap says hurriedly. “I’m just agreeing with you. Some time offline will do him good.”

About twenty minutes later Bad shows up again, and it’s my turn to go see Dream.

I roll my shoulders back, trying to ease the tension I seem to feel every time I come near this hospital. When I enter the doorway, Dream is leaning back against a stack of pillows, gazing out of the window. I stare at him for a moment. He’s fiddling uneasily with the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing restlessly over the bedclothes and twisting together.

I take a deep breath and walk in. Dream glances up quickly, a broad smile creeping across his face. “Hi, George!” he says, beckoning for me to come over and sit down.

“Hello there!” I quip, returning the grin. “So – how have you been?” He’s no longer wearing the oxygen mask, which I guess is a good sign unless he’s taken it off himself, in which case it’d be a bad one. . . His casts have now been wrapped in a bright green tape.

Dream heaves a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I have been so so bored. Unbelievably bored. Insanely bored. So bored, in fact, that I’d like to do anything but sit here.”

I laugh. “So I take it you’re feeling better?” I surmise, and Dream snorts.

“If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that, I’d be a millionaire.” he replies. I notice he’s kinda dodged the question, and hasn’t really given me a proper answer. But before I can ask again, he breaks in. “I’m good. I’ve had enough painkillers to last me forever, though. Anyway, look at this!” Dream reaches over to his bedside and picks up a remote of some description, pressing a button. The hydraulics under the bed begin to move until he’s raised it almost two metres off the floor.

I watch with amusement and mild alarm. “Dream! What are you doing? Get that thing down now – that’s dangerous.”

I hear a wheeze from above and then Dream’s sandy head appears over the edge, a mischievous glint in his sunshine green eyes. “How is this dangerous?” he queries.

I am slightly taken aback, but glad to see that he hasn’t lost his sense of humour. This is beginning to sound like a common conversation we might have during a minecraft recording session. “You could fall and crack your silly skull or something. And there’s no more room for another bandage on your head. Come down now.” I say as Dream chuckles and tosses a pillow down on me.

“Come an’ make me, George!” he taunts.

The corner of my mouth twitches and I pick up the pillow. “Dream, if you didn’t have a broken arm or leg I would thrash you with this.” I say.

Dream wheezes louder and makes the bed go up ever so slightly higher. I can’t help but wonder if he put on a similar display for Bad and Sapnap, or if I’m only seeing the tail end of the show. Definitely high on painkillers. I decide to change my tactics. “Look, Dream – what if a doctor comes in?” I say slyly. “They’ll think you have permanent brain damage after all and send you off to some asylum or something.”

“Well at least I’ll have you with me for company.” Hysterical chuckles come from Dream as he finally lowers the bed, much to my relief. He beams at me, and then suddenly looks exhausted. I frown worriedly but he takes a deep breath and smiles. “D’ya like my casts? I got to choose any colour.”

“Oh nice.” I state sarcastically. “And so if anyone recognizes me and then sees you being all fancy with your neon green, they totally won’t put two and two together and realize who you are. You’re an idiot, Dream.” I remark jokingly.

“And you’re an extraordinary idiot, George.”

I look up sharply at his change in tone and Dream is gazing earnestly at me, his expression regretful and I don’t know why. But I know where I heard that line before. Dream heard me. . . he heard me talking to him . . . he was unconscious but. . .

“I was listening, George.” Dream says, looking awkwardly out the window. “I mean, I could barely hear you – it was like I was far, far away, or underwater, or something. I felt lost and when I heard you talking it pulled me out of a – a void.” He clenches and unclenches his hand restlessly. “It guided me back to – to . . . I don’t know – I don’t remember. But I – I was scared, George. I couldn’t feel anything except everything still hurt. And I didn’t know where I was, or what had happened. Nobody was there. Except you.”

I sit still, unable to move or speak as I listen to Dream speak lucidly. Although I talked to him yesterday, this feels much more real. The conversation has so suddenly turned serious and it’s unlike Dream – I know head injuries can cause mood swings and similar issues and although Dr. Ranlow warned me that Dream might act a little strange, I was not expecting this. And to be honest, I don’t know how I feel about it. Happy? Unnerved? Tears threaten to spill from my eyes and I blink them back.

Dream turns back to me, and his own eyes widen slightly in horror. “No – don’t – don’t cry – please.” Dream pleads anxiously.

I rub my hands over my face roughly, wiping the tears away. “Nothing doing.” I say, giving him a shaky grin. Dream looks so relieved that I determine to stay happy as long as I’m there. “Go on.”

He pauses, and looks as though he’s lost his train of thought. “I seem to remember you apologizing a lot.” Dream continues with a frown of concentration. “Why?”

I’m not really sure how to answer that question. To me, it’s a simple case of ‘GeorgeNotFound being Selfish and Thoughtless. Again’. “What d-do you – mean?” I stammer, “I got you in this – predicament. I insisted on you all coming to England, I suggested -”

“George, that’s no reason! We all agreed it would be better this way!” Dream argues, looking startled. “Just because it was your idea doesn’t mean what happened after it is your fault! I -” he swallows, “I would have b-been in the – accident either way.” Dream lowers his voice, and when I look up I try to ignore the tear I see glistening on his cheek. “It was so lonely there, and you came and practically rescued me. I could never repay that. You might not understand, but it meant so much to me because I was so scared and alone.” Gesturing to the room, he hesitates a moment. “I was so close to – to giving up. I was so tired, it hurt, I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. Then I heard you talking. And even after you left for a while, you came back. So did the others. That’s all I remember.”

I gulp, watching Dream bite his lip as he stumbles over his own words. “I – I’ll always come back.” I say, and Dream fixes me in his gaze.

“You will?” he asks quietly, with almost childish hope. “Promise?”

Dream sounds so different, and so young. I feel like I’m in way over my head, Dream’s never been anything like this before. This is beginning to scare me. I’ve never experienced anything like this in all our long years of friendship.

It’s the concussion talking. . . I tell myself firmly. He’ll be better soon and everything will be normal. “Of course, stupid.” I grin, and Dream gives me a half-smile. “Now, look. You need to rest, so you’ll be able to join me and Sapnap and Bad sooner. We still have a meet-up to do!”

“Yeah. . .” Dream trails off, looking around the room. “I hate hospitals. They’re so – so – still, and cold, and everything is white. There’s nothing to look at. And it’s so quiet. And boring.”

“Stop complaining, Dream.” I laugh. “At least you get waited on hand and foot. That won’t be happening back at my place. I’ll bring you some books or something next time I come, how’s that sound?”

Dream visibly brightens. “Yes, great! And a deck of cards or something?”

I stand up. “Sure! And if you want anything else, just c-” I was about to say call Sapnap and not me, but I remember our discussion from earlier and our decision to try keep Dream offline for a bit. At least until everything’s calmed down. “- just make a note and ask me next time I see you, okay?”

Dream nods. “Thanks for coming, George.” he says.

“S’okay.” I reply, “It’s better than being stuck in the house with a maniac and a muffinhead.” I joke, and Dream wheezes as I leave the room.

I feel happier than I have in days.

In a week or two, Dream will be at my place with the gang, and everything will be back to normal.

I hope.

TBC. . .

Hope you all enjoyed! And again - give me some leeway for medical inaccuracies even though I am trying to avoid them, because it's honestly the thought that counts and I'm just trying to write an enjoyable story for you wonderful people! :)

 Once again, thanks so much for 370 hearts and 7K reads, and if you liked it then be sure to drop your thoughts down in the comment section!

I love reading them and replying to you all! Bai <3 !!!!! 

Chapter Text

Yesss I know I'm a day late, I'm sorry about that.

Writer's block is a pain in the neck and I found this chapter so annoying to get where I wanted to go. But here we are (finally)!

Anyway, read on, enjoy and tell me what you thought of it in the comments! :)

I turn on my phone the moment I get home, only to be greeted by the last thing I wanted to see. A notification on Twitter that the entire platform is now obsessing over. A notif from Dream

Dream @dreamwastaken

hi everyone. just wanted to say i’m doing okay, sorry we had to delay the surprise.

yes, I was in an accident, but it’s nothing too serious. I’m going to be fine, make sure you all stay safe. love you guys :)

It’s been retweeted a million times. I sit down slowly on the sofa, unable to stop myself as I scroll through comment after comment after comment.

About 50% of them are absolutely messed up.

You’re a loser dream

you can’t fool us

finally decided to admit you’ve lied yet?

you are all disgusting don’t think we believe you

you can’t get sympathy like this

And they’re just some of the less vicious replies. I am aware of the equal huge amounts of genuine sympathy coming from the supportive fans, but the negative comments seem to appear more often and are so much more noticeable. This is what I wanted Dream to avoid, but it looks like it’s too late now. There’s been some awful stuff posted over the past few days – guaranteed not to help Dream recover from a traumatic experience like the one he’s had.

Sapnap comes over, and when he sees the look on my face he immediately glances down at my phone. “So that’s it then. He’s seen it.”

I nod mutely. Bad approaches, his mouth set in a firm line. “I’m gonna make a post and set those fricking idiots straight. Dream shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He says, gaining a surprised look from Sapnap. Even I raise my eyebrows.

“Whoa dude-” Sapnap says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Did you just s-”

“Oh, go crumble a muffin.” Bad replies, somewhat sheepishly, as if even he’s a little shocked at himself. Sapnap just gives a knowing smirk and disappears off somewhere. Bad shoots a small smile at me. “Look, I’m sure Dream will be okay. He’s a smart guy, he knows how to deal with people. He’s done it before.” he assures me, before heading off to my kitchen

The almost-normal interaction between my two friends puts me in better humour, and I shut off my phone. For the millionth time this week, I repeat the same phrases to myself a few times. They’re kinda becoming my mantras now.

Dream will be fine, everything will be fine. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks, as long as you know the truth. Everything will be back to normal soon. This can’t get any worse that it already has. Dream might need help, now it’s time for you to look after him.

Stretching, I pull out a notepad and beginning to write down a rough schedule for the next few days. I think it will be better for Dream if we take turns at visiting him – it will stress him out less and the doctor won’t give us those ‘You really need to let him rest’ looks whenever we all turn up and ask to see Dream.

Plus, there’s less chance of us getting recognized. The danger of that has been upped significantly since Dream’s accident – all the fans’ theories about the surprise and where he is are running rampant, it only takes one malicious photographer and a bit of snooping before it is all over.

I make a list of games to bring with me next time, hoping that he will feel up to playing. I just am dying to do something normal, as if nothing’s gone wrong. I realize I haven’t played Minecraft in days.

I go to my bedroom and sit down at my desk. Maybe this might help. . . I think as I open the launcher and create a new world to speedrun in. It all goes well – that is, until I come to making the nether portal. I am so used to hearing Dream laughing hysterically at my failed attempts to speed-make it, this time when I stuff up, it’s dead silent No laughing, no corrections, no “You idiot, George.” Just me and the sound of my uneven, rapid breathing as tears start to sting my eyes.

Dream would be alright if it wasn’t for you. He’d be able to make the portal easily. It’s your own stupid fault.

xxxDotHxxx

One week later.

“Why?”

“What?” I reply, without looking up from my Scrabble tiles “Vlog is definitely a legitimate word.” Placing down the tiles, I quickly add up my score. “That’s four, plus three, times. . . double word score is fourteen.” Sighing heavily, I write it down on a notepad. Of course, Dream is winning. I glance up at him. Dream’s staring out the window – again – and seemingly unaware of the game in front of him.

“Dream?” I ask. It’s been a whole week since the accident. Even before that, Dream would often space out during a conversation or such. I know he can’t help it. But he seems to be zoning out a lot more often now – and to tell you the truth – it scares me a little. I ask him what he’s thinking about, but he just shakes his head and doesn’t say anything. “It’s your turn, Dream.”

He’s due to be released from hospital tomorrow, and all four of us are excited. Right now, Bad and Sapnap are at my place – Bad is probably baking some biscuits or a cake like he said he was going to.

Dream slowly glances down at the board, then up at me. “What?” he asks, frowning.

“Your turn!” I reiterate, noticing the confused look in his eyes with mild concern.

“Oh.” Flicking all his tiles onto the board, Dream sees my word and sighs. “Vlog isn’t a real word George, it’s an abbreviation!”

“It’s literally a word.”

“It’s an abomination. Anyway, I’ve won.”

Leaning back on my chair, I sigh in frustration. “How come you always win? This is the fifth game we’ve played this week and I’ve only beaten you once! It’s not like you’re good at it!” I’m expecting to hear Dream’s wheezing laugh and maybe a quick retort but again, he’s been distracted by fiddling with the pencil we were using to score.

My forehead creases in anxiousness. He’s been a bit like this all week, but over the last few days he seems to be focusing less and less on what we’re doing. He often goes from being overenthusiastic about something to uninterested and borderline depressed.

Perhaps it’s the concussion? Maybe it’s because the doctor has been slowly reducing the painkillers Dream is allowed to take? “Dream, do you feel okay?” I question, not really expecting an honest answer from him.

“Mhmm – Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Arm hurt?”

“A bit, yeah.”

I exhale and we sit there in silence for several minutes. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, we’ve both said everything we want to say after having had long conversations all week. I want to know what’s bothering Dream. During his time in hospital, the fact that Dream is younger than me has really been hitting me hard. Like, the freckled face, the bandages, and bright green casts only emphasise his boyish look. His eyes look open and honest, but I can tell he’s hiding something.

And although I might have only seen him face to face for the first time a week ago, I have spent years listening to his voice. It would be absurd if I wasn’t able to pick up his verbal cues by now. I’ve been putting off asking him what’s wrong, to see if anything unusual would disappear within a few days, but now – he’s coming home with us tomorrow. “Dream.” I say quietly, and his thoughtful green eyes flicker to my face.

“Yeah?”

Inwardly I take a deep breath. “What’s wrong?”

Dream looks a little startled, “Wh- nothing- I- I’m okay!” he stammers, much too fast.

It’s clear even to me that he’s got something on his mind. I put my head on the side, studying him. He’s visibly taken aback now. “No you’re not.” I state, determined to get somewhere with this, but already knowing it’s hopeless because there’s literally no way he’s gonna talk. “C’mon, tell me.”

Dream’s rubbing the back of his hands uncomfortably, chest rising and falling in short, sharp breaths. Avoiding my gaze, Dream doesn’t say anything.

I’m about to give up and accept that he’s not going to tell me anything when he mutters something under his breath.

“I didn’t- I never meant to cause so much trouble. . .” he whispers haltingly. “I never meant for all this to happen. . .”

Something tells me he’s not just referring to the accident.

I stay silent, knowing if I don’t say anything he might keep on talking. For a brief moment, I can tell he’s about to say something more.

“It’s just-”

And then the harsh trill of his phone pierces the air and we both jump at the sound. The atmosphere is instantly shattered and I know that there’s no way he’s gonna open up to me now. Dream picks up the phone, almost snatching it from the bedside table, I notice - and answers the call. “Hello?”

“Hi Dream!” Bad’s voice comes through airily. “Sorry to bother you – you having fun?”

“Yeah, I just beat George in Scrabble again.” Dream grins at me and I roll my eyes, inwardly furious at the interruption. Firstly, I’m gonna murder Bad when we get home. Secondly – Dream’s shift from a nervous, broken demeanour to a happy, eager disposition is either a unintentional mood swing or brilliant acting.

“What’s up?”

“Ohhh, yeah, I was just making some muffins for tomorrow, and then I decided I should make a cake as well, so I was wondering what’s your favourite type?”

“Any is fine, make it a surprise!” Dream laughs.

“Okay, I will then! Bye!”

After Bad hangs up, Dream doesn’t look up but instead starts scrolling through something on his phone. The smile on his face neither grows nor disappears, only fades a little. Giving a small laugh, he finally puts it down. “They really hate me, don’t they?”

Oh god what? Not what I needed just now, how the hell am I supposed to reply to that?

“Who?” I ask lamely.

A million different responses were running through my head and I chose that one. Oh, brilliant move there, idiot.

Dream, however, seems unfazed. That should probably make me worried, but right now I’m glad he didn’t react to that stupid reply. “All these jerks on Twitter and Youtube. They’re saying it’s all fake, look-” he flips the phone over to me, presenting me with a video titled Why Dream FAKED his ‘Accident’ - Conclusive Evidence. Flicking his thumb Dream sends the page scrolling slowly down, revealing many more videos of a similar description. Video upon video.

I feel slightly sick.

Dream gives a light, breathy wheeze. “God they’re so dumb.” he says, as if he he finds the whole thing a huge joke. Sure, I know Dream is used to criticism and hate stuff from the toxic culture that inevitably follows fame, but the sheer magnitude of this kind of thing would get even Dream down.

But it doesn’t seem to be. I look at Dream, who’s chuckling to himself as he reads the titles. The word ‘dissociation’ comes to mind. I study him carefully, and he doesn’t notice. Maybe his smile seems a little strained? Is it just me, or are his hands shaking, albeit barely perceptively?

Finally, I stand up. My mind is spinning and suddenly the white walls of the hospital room seem to be closing in on me. I need to go somewhere quiet, and just think. Dream realizes that I’ve gotten up and frowns. “You alright? You look a bit strange.”

I shake my head hastily. “I’m fine! Just don’t want to leave those other idiots alone in my house for too long – I better go.”

Dream makes a face. “Make you sure you come back and get me out of here!” he sighs. “I can’t stand staying here much longer. Plus, I think all the doctors are annoyed at me – apparently they say I’m not very well-behaved.” Dream shrugs innocently. “Can’t imagine why!”

“I can.” I answer, giving him a brief smile. Trying to get out of bed without help, not resting when he’s told, messing around with the hydraulic bed remote, taking off his oxygen mask without permission, not staying still. . . At least, that’s some of what I’ve gathered from the semi-amused, semi-annoyed doctors and nurses that I’ve talked to whenever I come to visit.

That’s the Dream I know. . . I think as I say goodbye and walk out of the room. But I can’t help wondering if he’s still that same Dream.

TBC. . .

Chapter Text

it's the calm before the storm, mate.

the calm before the storm :)

Sapnap and Bad had far too much fun discussing how we should plan out today.

Dream is coming home this afternoon, and we spent the entire morning discussing basically every variable. Now, it’s lunch time, and they are still making silly jokes and offering options on how I should disguise myself so nobody recognises me when I go to pick Dream up from the hospital.

“. . . Or, you should get a moustache, George.” Sapnap suggests without looking up from his phone as he lounges on the couch. “Look, you can get a fake one-”

Rolling my eyes, I snap the cover back onto a container of biscuits. “Oh my god Sapnap just shut up already!” I groan, taking a bite from the rapidly crumbling biscuit and slumping down heavily on the couch beside Bad, who looks entertained but is busy flicking through an old recipe book he found somewhere in my cupboard. “You’ve already given me a million different options and I already told you everything’s sorted. Seriously. You get a moustache.” I say, unable to hide a grin.

I’m going alone, and Dream will be wearing a hoodie so hopefully that will hide his face a bit. I have a cap to put on – it will feel strange I don’t usually wear caps but as long as it doesn’t draw too much attention to us that will be fine.

I’m not usually this cautious, but my nerves have been on edge ever since the accident.

And with the way Dream is right now – I don’t want any possible cause for more drama.

Once I finally arrive at the hospital, Dream is all ready to go. He’s sitting in a wheelchair talking to Dr. Ranlow, and the hood of his jumper pulled down over his face. He was looking excited to leave as I wheeled him out of his room, but as we approach the reception area/lobby, he begins to fiddle nervously with the strings of his hoodie. I pick up on the tension emanating from him and glance around. Nobody seems to be watching. . . just carry on as normal.

. . .what’s normal?

I have to force myself to stop being nervous when Dream shoots an apprehensive look at me after a group of teens walk past. “Dream. It’s fine. Just chill. It’s all good.”

God, Dream really unnerved me with that look. He seems so scared. Is he always like this in public? Afraid of being recognised? Or is it just because of what happened a week ago?

The elderly nurse at the reception desk gives me a joking sigh of relief once I tell her I’m here to pick Dream up. “Thank goodness.” she says as her fingers fly across the keyboard, imputing our names. “This young man is a handful – he needs to learn to behave and take our advice when he’s got those kind of injuries.” she laughs.

I try to repress a giggle and Dream snorts indignantly. “You were the one that said I-” he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

“Oh hush.” The nurse nods at me, indicating she’s finished filling in whatever is on her computer screen and that we’re free to go now. “Now, take care of yourself, Clay. Don’t overexert yourself, all right?” she instructs in a motherly tone. Dream squirms a little at the use of his real name, but he’s not annoyed. She gives him a fond smile and then turns to me. “And – may I call you George?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure Clay gets enough rest. And doesn’t get stressed to much. And gets enough peace and quiet. Don’t let him do too much-”

I smile and nod, sensing that the list could go on for ages. She’s a nice lady but I don’t really feel up to a chat now. Plus, Dream seems to be getting increasingly agitated, and I think the sooner I get him out of the hospital the better. Finally we say goodbye and I head towards the door.

If I’d turned around, I would have seen a figure in a dark jacket lingering in the corner of the room, watching us intently as we talked to the nurse. I would have seen him hurriedly whip a phone from his pocket.

And had I been listening to what was going on around me – I would have heard the faint ‘click’ of a camera button activating. . .

We leave the hospital quickly and find ourselves at the bus stop. I’m still lost in my thoughts until I hear a soft, sharp gasp from Dream, which snaps my attention to the present. He’s staring at the cars that are speeding past, breathing ragged and uneven. “Dream?” I yelp, trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice from shaking as I lean across to look at him. “What’s up?”

“No- I don’t w- we’re not g-gonna- not. . .” he mutters erratically without appearing to hear me. His eyes are fixed on a taxi that has pulled up along the kerb on the opposite side of the street.

In a second I put the pieces together. “Hey, listen! Dream? Look at me. We’re not taking a cab, we’re taking a bus. It’s going to be fine! C’mon – calm down, idiot.” I try to sound normal but my heart is racing – thank God there is nobody around right now. Awkwardly I pat his shoulder.

Dream closes his eyes and after a moment his breathing slows to a more ordinary level. “Sorry. . . I’m okay now. I just d. . . I’m good. S-stupid meds mess me up – that’s all. . .” he eventually says, hands clenched in direct contradiction to his words.

I grip the handle of his wheelchair tightly as a bus pulls up alongside us. Dream absently tugs his hood down lower with his slightly trembling hands as I pay the bus fare. Then we board and I sit in the seat across the isle from Dream, just in case I’m seen.

I really am hoping nobody recognises me. Not today.

Dream’ll be fine he’ll be fine. . . I think to myself as we begin our journey home. Dr. Ranlow had already forewarned me on what might possibly happen – he did say to expect this kind of thing.

But I still feel way out of my depth. I look at Dream. He’s turned on his phone and is gazing closely at the tiny screen, ignoring the other bored-looking travelling companions on the bus. By the time we reach my house, my knuckles are white and aching and I realise I’ve had my hands in a fist the entire time. I roll my shoulders back in an attempt to ease the tension.

I wheel Dream towards my front door, sending furtive glances around before opening it. Dream hasn’t said much the whole trip. He’s been super quiet.

I put that down to him trying to avoid being recognised.

Or the fact he nearly had a panic attack at the bus stop.

Once I enter the lounge-room, pushing Dream in front of me, he is met by a chorus of enthusiastic greetings.

“DREAM!!!! Oh my goodness you’re here! How are you? Did you have a good trip? Welcome home!!!” Bad practically tackles Dream into a hug, being careful of his casts. “You muffin! It’s so good to have you back!”

Dream gives a broad smile in return – again I notice his mood shift.

“You Muffinhead.” Before Dream can respond, Sapnap comes up behind him and gives him a gentle thump on the back. “Hi, clumsy.” he adds.

Dream grins and shoves his wheelchair against Sapnap’s foot.

Sapnap exaggeratedly limps out of range, bemoaning insincerely. “Fu-”

Bad shoots him a ferocious glare.

“-Fudge, Dream that hurt!”

“Clumsy yourself.” My best friend chuckles. “But hello! It’s good to be out of the dumb hospital! God, George your house is small.” he announces, looking around the room.

I blink. “No it’s not!” I retort with indignant good humour. “It’s the perfect size.”

With a wheeze Dream starts wheeling himself around, somewhat awkwardly considering he can only use his left hand. He begins touching literally everything and asking questions about various items I have lying around, and Bad starts talking almost non-stop about pretty much everything we’ve been doing the past week and asking what Dream would like.

“. . . we have a cake for later, too, to celebrate! Are you hungry now though? Because I’ve got biscuits and muffins as well. You should have seen George's pantry when we got here! It was. . .”

Sapnap just follows them around, listening and sending an exasperated smirk at Dream whenever he looks in his direction. Dream wheezes to himself and feigns a complete lack of interest in whatever’s going on, talking at high speeds over the top of both Bad and Sapnap.

I remain standing in one place, before picking up Dream’s bags and dumping them in the spare room. I can’t explain my emotions right now. I feel overwhelmed and totally drained at the same time. Finally. . . everything seems to be alright. We’re all together – all safe.

But I know from experience that nothing ever is straightforward.

Things always get worse before they get better. We probably still have a long journey ahead of us.

I watch my three companions teasing each other, a smile on my face. But I feel confused.

Dream is behaving in a complete opposite manner to this morning – and I can’t just shrug it off as him relaxing because he’s among his best friends.

I look a little closer. He honestly seems to be trying to outdo them in talkativeness, making jokes, and interacting with them, and even though he’s speaking he doesn’t seem to be telling them anything.

That doesn’t even make sense. I just don’t get it.

Heading into the kitchen, I grab some glasses and a jug of water and go back over to them. Sapnap has Dream’s arm over his shoulder and Bad is hovering close by, waiting to offer assistance.

“Wait what what are you doing!?” I exclaim, hastily putting down what I’m holding. I’m gone for ten seconds and this is what the do . . .

“What? He wanted to sit on the sofa!” explains Sapnap with a somewhat sheepish expression.

Dream tilts his head to the side innocently. “C’mon, George. Help me. The chair is so hard and uncomfortable.”

With a loud sigh I ungracefully help Dream onto the couch. He winces when I accidentally jostle his arm a little too hard, but I barely have time to mutter ‘sorry’ before he’s beaming tauntingly at me and patting the couch. “George! Sit down too! Here, next to me!”

I know that joking, fake flirting tone all too well. “Ughhhh shut up. . . you’re an idiot, Dream.” But I do sit down – beside him but not too close. I ignore Sapnap and Bad suppressing giggles on from their places on the couch.

Dream pretends to look offended. “Awww, George. Don’t you even feel sorry for me?” he says unabashedly holding up his broken arm, his gaze trailing down to his equally fractured ankle.

For a moment, I get this strange feeling – like everything’s normal. Like we’re casually chatting on Discord. The teasing and jokes that we’ve all been flinging at each other since we got home is so typical of late-night stream banter. So typical of us.

Maybe I was wrong? Maybe we are on the way home after all.

After another solid hour of just talking, planning, and laughing, Bad pulls out a game and declares we’re all gonna play.

I find myself observing Dream closely as the afternoon passes into evening.

And to all appearances – he is fine.

There’s only one thing bothering me – one thing that strikes me as odd – something that is unsettling me.

But I can’t quite work out what that is. . .

TBC. . .

*deep inhale* Yooooo sh*t's about to go down, guys!!!

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Hope you liked and leave a comment telling me what you thought! :)

Chapter Text

“Ughh c’mon, Sapnap! Just pass the crisps to me, you can’t keep them over there the entire time!” I reach over and snatch the packet from Sapnap, who snorts indignantly.

“‘Crisps’ is a dumb way to say it, everyone knows th-”

“You muffinhead George it’s your turn!” Bad’s pleading in the background catches my attention and I finally roll the dice, moving my piece forward on the Monopoly board and feeling amused. Poor Bad. He’s been trying to keep a functioning game going all evening, but we keep getting distracted. Dream is continually going off into some wild, elaborate stories about his time in hospital, sending us into hysterical laughter.

It’s so, so good to hear him laughing again. He sounds so happy. But literally all afternoon, I feel like I’m waiting for him to just – snap. I’m not sure why – it’s only that he’s been under a lot of stress, and is in pain – that’s so obvious, I can see him trying to hide it but he’s not quite been successful – so yeah. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been all week, but I’m still slightly uneasy.

Dream slumps back on the couch, stretching lazily. “Sorry, Bad – this is getting boring. Can we play something else?” he asks, grinning apologetically at our friend.

“Oh sure! What do you you wanna do? Anything is fine with me!” Bad replies hastily, eager to do whatever Dream wants. I smile – Bad’s so relieved that Dream’s ‘okay’ that’s he’s trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

“I dunno – maybe we could like, umm, play-” shrugs Dream, accepting a pillow that Bad offers him to put under his broken arm.

“Hey, Dream! You want to do a livestream? Like, the fans are probably dying to hear your voice, y’know.”

Almost instantly, I sense the change in Dream’s mood. His whole body tenses up and he freezes for a second, breath hitching

Just for a second, though. Then he shakes his head, covering the sharp inhalation with a yawn. “Uhh, n-no. Not tonight, Sapnap. Umm. . .”

Then he realises both Bad and Sapnap are staring at him with mildly alarmed expressions. He flashes a quick smile at them both. “Not now – I’m too tired.” Dream laughs lightly, evidently uncomfortable, “I’ve been up since like, 4AM. You all probably slept in until what, ten? Lazy-”

Sapnap gives Dream a careful punch on his good arm. “You MUFFIN. I was up before eight, so there.”

I laugh with Sapnap and Bad, noting the hasty glances they both sent my way. They obviously don’t want to press Dream into answering any questions tonight. I’m glad, because I just don’t know how to react to emotions.

Sapnap and I both help Dream limp slowly and painfully to the spare bedroom as Bad rushes back and forth being helpful, pulling the bed covers down and putting a jug of water beside the bed. Dream screws up his face as his injured ankle touches the floor accidentally, but he doesn’t say anything.

Again, I notice how suddenly he goes from being super loud and hyperactive to ‘radio silence’ within minutes.

He leans back on the bed, flopping down into the mass of pillows that Bad has gathered and put behind his back. He grins as we all stand around somewhat awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Dream chuckles. “What are you idiots staring at?” he says, beating a pillow into shape.

Happy, Bad give a yawn. “Oh, well – we just want to make sure you’ve got everything you want!”

With a tired sigh, Dream shrugs. “I’m good!”

“Okay then! I guess I’ll say goodnight now – see you in the morning, Dream!” chirps Bad, beaming round at all of us before leaving the room. I can hear him pulling mattresses into position in the lounge room.

Sapnap gives Dream a fierce scowl. “Okay, goodnight. Don’t go anywhere, and don’t you even dare get out of bed without help, alright?”

It’s so weird, ever since Dream got home I feel like I’ve just been a spectator – merely watching the others interact from a distance. It’s as if I’m scared to interact with him because I know he might not be the Dream I remember.

Dream pulls an innocent face, tilting his head on the side. “Whatever you say, Mr Snapmap.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes and waves a hand at Dream. “Night, Muffin.”

“Night!”

I grin to myself from my place beside the door – Sapnap’s having spent a week with Bad is definitely beginning to show – either that, or he’s just trying to avoid hearing “LANGUAGE!!!” shouted at him from any corner of the house.

Dream looks at me, a half-smile gracing his boyish features. “George?”

Shit – that smile. That young, nervous, ‘I’m okay’ but I’m really not smile. If I’m seeing it so frequently now – I can only imagine the amount of times it was masking his real feelings behind the screen.

“Yeah?” I ask, unintentionally stuffing my hands deep into my hoodie pockets in a apprehensive gesture.

Frowning slightly, Dream’s gaze flickers briefly to his phone on the beside table. “Umm. . . nothing. Where – are you sleeping?”

I hold back a yawn. “My room. It’s just across the hall. Why?”

“Oh no reason.” Dream says far too quickly, letting out a short sigh of relief that he probably didn’t intend me to see. “I just – wanted to make sure I wasn’t kicking you out of a room or anything.” he continues rapidly with an uneasy, cover-up smile.

I automatically revert into my ‘avoid emotional entanglement by making jokes’ mode. “Hah, you couldn’t kick me anywhere, Dream.” I say in a half-taunting manner.

He looks rightfully indignant. “I could too, George!”

“What, on one leg? Idiot, show me then!”

Dream’s face falls comically. “Awww, that’s mean.”

“Like you’re not sometimes. Anyway, goodnight!” I say, not wanting to sound dismissive but I think I accidentally did because Dream suddenly looks thoughtful again.

“Goodnight, George.” he says, before lapsing into silence.

I go to my room and drop down onto my bed, flinging my arm over my eyes to block out the light that’s coming from the lounge room. Bad and Sapnap are still busy.

I want to fall asleep.

I hope I didn’t hurt Dream’s feelings.

Ever since the accident, I get the feeling that I’m treading on eggshells around Dream.

He seems to take the good-natured teasing and friendly insults seriously now. The Dream I used to know would have laughed at our dumb discussion we had a moment ago in his room.

I know there’s something wrong with Dream, but I don’t know what it is.

Or do I?

Am I just saying that as an excuse?

Maybe – I do know what’s wrong after all – and maybe. . . I’m just afraid to do anything about it.

Face it – you’re scared of Dream. Of how he might have changed. . .

I spend the next hour just lying there, unable to sleep. My head is spinning because I’m so tired but I just can’t rest. I toss and turn, listening to the myriad of sounds that inevitably come with being awake at what – past 2AM? I only went to bed at midnight.

I can hear Sapnap snoring softly from the other room. The roof creaks and a lone car on the streets outside drives past every once in a while. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Blankets rustle as I try to shift into a more comfortable position. My pillow is too warm and I flip it over again, hoping to find another cool spot.

I let out a heavy sigh and sit up. I’m gonna go get a glass of water, maybe that’ll make me tired.

It’s a really stupid idea, realistically. I just need to do something, I’ll go mad if I just lie there for much longer.

I stumble out to the kitchen, tripping over the corner of Bad’s mattress in the process. I hesitate, but he just mumbles something in his sleep and that’s all. Thank goodness. I find myself briefly wondering where he left his glasses. I hope not on the floor. . .

As I turn to head back to my room, a flicker of light from under Dream’s nearly-closed door catches my attention. Curious, I tread over quietly and peer in. I can see a hooded figure sitting huddled up against the pillows, gently illuminated by the soft radiance of a phone. “Dream?” I whisper.

The figure starts, shoving the phone down under the covers before switching the light on. I see a pale, drawn face with wide green eyes staring at me from under a hood. He blinks at me slowly. “George?”

“Yeah it’s just me, Dream.” I say reassuringly, walking over and sitting down on the end of the bed. “Why are you still up?”

Dream gingerly reaches for his phone and glances at the time displayed on it. He keeps the screen carefully tilted away from me, as if he doesn’t want me to see it. Then he puts it down. “I woke up and couldn’t get b-back to sleep. Bored.” he says in a small voice.

That’s plainly a lie – Dream never went to sleep in the first place. Firstly, the covers are not wrinkled and creased as they usually would be, and secondly his sandy-blond hair isn’t tousled and messy as someone who’d been asleep would be.

And then there are the dark circle under his eyes and trembling hands, indicating a body begging for rest but being denied the chance.

But all I do is nod as if I accept that as a reasonable answer. “Same.” I reply, watching him closely. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much. Just – watching Minecraft videos on youtube. . . y’know.” he adds after a moment’s thought.

“Oh, okay. Mind if I watch too?” I ask cautiously, and am slightly taken aback by how quickly and adamantly he shakes his head. Even though that’s what I was expecting-

“Nonono. . . I’m not really watching anything interesting. I was about to turn it off, anyway. Sorry. . .” he stammers.

I give him a nod. “That’s fine. Make sure you get some sleep.” I advise, standing up, mind whirling. Despite how fast Dream had been to shut off the phone, I had still caught a glimpse of the video he had been watching and its title – and now I feel a little shaken. I whisper goodnight to him and leave, knowing Dream’s not gonna be going to sleep at all. He was clearly lying.

I sink down onto my own bed, pulling the covers over my head. The Minecraft video I’d seen on his phone keeps flashing before my eyes. The title is disturbing, to say the least.

“Dream – the Real Story: The Manipulator, the Monster, and a Loser’s End.”

Why would Dream be watching that?

It doesn’t make sense. I dislike watching hate videos – even joking ones – about how bad we are.

And something inside me is telling me that the video is not even referring to the character Dream plays on our infamous SMP.

It’s referring to Dream himself.

Y'know, I really hope tomorrow goes better than today did. 

TBC. . .

Ahhh poor George - things are about to get horrible for him

And poor Dream - this is not something anyone recovering from an accident should have to go through.

Are you enjoying the story so far??? Please leave a comment and be sure to stick around! :)))

Chapter Text

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Now read on and enjoy! :)

The steady drumming of rain against the roof slowly pulls me into wakefulness. I lazily roll over and rub my eyes. The room is greyly lit due to the heavy cloud cover I can just see through the blinds. The bed is so comfortable, I don’t want to move – I’m still tired. Everything feels so oddly normal.

I lie still for a few moments, trying to plan out my day.

Did I have a video to edit? Was I supposed to be recording one with Dream-

In a flash, the events of the past weeks hit me again. Dream’s here, so are Sapnap and Bad.

“Oh my God - Dream. . .” I sit up way too fast, causing black dots to briefly cloud my vision. Shoving away the warm blankets, I finally get up. I’ve gotta go check on Dream – I swear to God if he didn’t sleep last night. . .

I trip as I get up and open the door unsteadily, glancing at the clock as I do so.

It’s only 7AM. I grab an extra hoodie from my drawers and shuffle over to Dream’s room. His door is ajar and I can see him sitting huddled in blankets, on his phone. I frown at that. He sees me and waves, a tired smile lighting up his face. “Morning George.” he says sleepily.

I edge into the room quietly so as not to disturb the others sleeping in the living room. “Hey. Sleep well?” I ask.

Dream winces as he tries to move over so I can sit on the bed as well. “Uhh, yeah.”

I raise an eyebrow. He is pale as a ghost, with dark lilac patches under his eyes. He looks so worn out – I don’t think he went to sleep at all. “You’re lying, aren’t you.” I take a shot in the dark, knowing the only way to get anywhere with Dream is to call him out and tell him how he’s doing. Because he’s not gonna tell you otherwise.

Shrugging, Dream pulls the blankets closer around him and scrubs a over his face. “It’s just a headache.” his voice is muffled by his hands.

“Did you take-”

“Yeah I had some earlier.” Dream cuts me off, looking up at me with the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “I guess I’m just waiting for them to kick in.”

“Right.”

Ughh why does talking have to be so awkward. It’s so much easier to talk when I don’t have Dream’s freckled, exhausted face staring earnestly at me. I have so many things I need to ask him – but I just can’t.

He tilts his head on the side, gazing out the window to watch the downpour. “I like rain.” he murmurs thoughtfully, before scowling at his casts.

Deciding it is time for breakfast I stand up, instantly gaining his attention.

“Wait – where are you going?”

I am going to ignore how much those words just made my heart sink at how nervous he sounded. “Are you hungry?” I ask, stepping towards the door.

Relaxing a little, Dream frowns. “Not really.”

“Want some tea or coffee or something?” I question, and Dream screws his face up.

“No thank you!” he states with a vehemence that surprises me.

“What’s wrong with coffee?”

I laugh at his obstinate, amused smile as he slams a fist into a pillow. “It’s disgusting! I hate coffee!”

“Not much of an answer, but I’ll take it.” I’m about to leave but I hear Dream’s voice pipe up again from behind me. I turn to see him shoving of the covers and reaching over for his wheelchair. “Wait a minute – Dream be careful!”

He stares at me with puppy-eyes. “Aww, then help me get into this thing. I want to watch you make breakfast.”

Hesitantly, I walk over and he puts an arm over my shoulder when I lean down. As I help him up and support him over to the wheelchair, I notice how light and shaky he is. I suppose that’s how you would be after spending like, three days in a coma and then having a week of hospital food.

Once we’re out in the kitchen, I put the jug on to boil and begin making some cereal for Dream. He didn’t want it originally but I insisted, so now he sits at the table and just picks at it, swirling the spoon around the bowl and occasionally taking a mouthful. To be honest he seems more interested in fiddling with his phone. Contrary to what he said, he doesn’t appear to want to observe my prowess in the kitchen.

As I go about finding enough spoons and bowls for everyone when they wake up, I realise what an unusual schedule this is for me. I almost never have breakfast – I often just play Minecraft and work on videos until I get hungry, then I find a snack to keep me going until lunch or dinner.

I take the cereal out to the table and make myself a cup of tea. Again, that’s not something I do normally. But today – it just feels right.

The rain thunders down rhythmically on the roof and Dream and I both sit listening to it in silence. It relaxes me and I yawn, sending a look at my friend. He’s concentrated completely on his phone.

Not good.

Should I confront him now – ask him what he’s doing? I think I already know, but I want to hear it directly from him.

This isn’t good for him at all. I already failed him once by being selfish, the least I can do is try to help him now.

“Dream? What are you doing?” I awkwardly inquire, endeavouring to keep my voice as nonchalant as possible.

Dream regards me with a unsettled half-smile. “N-nothing much. I – just- uhh. . . I’m gonna post a tweet m-maybe. Twitter’s still all frazzled over everything that’s going on, y’know? They all think I’m in Florida still thank goodness – so I’m safe for n-now.” He flickers a grin at me and gives a quiet laugh but the sentence ends without a lot of conviction on his part and a lot of doubt on mine.

Not the answer I was expecting. I really didn’t know what he was going to say.

I’m torn. I don’t want to make him upset, but at the same time I need to know what’s going on. He is acting so, so strange, and it literally hurts to see him in pain, either physical or mentally. I’m just here helplessly with my friend, who’s been like a younger brother to me, watching him literally slowly spiral and not being able to do a thing to help because I don’t know what to do. He’s helped me so many times to climb out of a pit of despair and I’m being so useless when he needs me most.

I need to change the subject, change the mood. I think I have an idea. Step One has gotta be – ‘try to get Dream away from the toxic half of the fanbase’. Reaching towards him, I playfully swipe at his phone. “Dreammm!” I drawl, causing him to pull away in mock alarm. “Why don’t we all not use our phones at all today, huh?”

With a uncertain face Dream stammers a reply. “Well I. . . I d-don’t think so. . . like, we kinda n-”

I interrupt him. “I bet I can go for longer without mine!” If I know Dream, one thing he can’t resist is a challenge. I’m praying that, out of impulse, he’ll accept my bid.

I am right. “Oh really?” he instantly shoots back, turning off the device and shoving it across the table. “Then you’re gonna lose, George!”

Picking it up, I pull out my own and toss them both into a nearby basket, exhaling silently in relief. “Okay Dream. Eat your cereal now.” I demand, taking a sip of my tea. “Don’t waste it, that stuff is expensive.”

Dream rolls his eyes at my lame ‘joke’ and makes no attempt to obey. Finally he starts fidgeting and drumming his fingers on the counter. A loud yawn and the rustling of blankets sounds from the floor. Sapnap twists around stiffly and blinks at us. “Oh. G’morning. . .” he mutters, voice rough from sleep. He remains motionless for a few minutes, clearly still trying to wake up. Dream and I just stare in amusement as he finally twists his wrist over to glance at his watch. “Oh f- it’s not even seven-thirty. . . why are you guys up so earl- Hey what the hell, man?!” Sapnap had begun reaching for his phone only for me to lunge over and swipe his hand away from it.

“Uh-uh no internet today, Snapmap. We’re gonna do an experiment. Who can go longest without their phone.” I explain, turning my head so Dream can’t see my expression. I give Sapnap a meaningful look and a barely perceptible shake of my head, hoping to convey my thought process to him. Dream needs time off. Time away from the world of the internet.

I see a flicker of understanding register in his blue-green eyes before he instantly resumes his attitude. With a ferocious glare Sapnap sits up and passes both his and Bad’s phones over to me. “Who’s dumb idea was that anyway?” he grunts, pouring himself some cereal.

“It was George’s! He thinks he can beat me.” Dream informs him with delight.

I take the following flak from them in good humour. I’m used to it, and if this is gonna help Dream, I’m willing to cop anything.

Bad finally wakes and we explain the game to him. He agrees wholeheartedly to our scheme, but raises the issue of the doctor’s appointment Dream was supposed to go in for today. We all decide – much to Dream’s annoyance – that we will keep one phone on and Bad will be the custodian of it for the day in case we need to contact the hospital.

With a steaming cup of tea set beside him, Bad pulls out a notepad and pen and flips it open to a page half-filled in small, neat printing. “Okay guys!” he announces cheerily. “Let’s organise what we’re gonna do today! I’ve got down ‘Doctor’s appointment’, and Sapnap says he wants to stream later, so what else?”

There are groans from the less-than-organised members of our group. Both me and Sapnap roll our eyes and are disapproving of writing down everything right now. I personally couldn’t be bothered. After several minutes of none of us supplying particularly useful ideas, Bad shuts his notebook with a huff of frustration. “Okay, Dream. You’re gonna go get ready now. I’m taking you into the hospital because I have the phone and I’m less likely to be recognized. I’m gonna go get changed.”

Sapnap and I exchange amused glances and Dream feigns a bewildered look. “Whatever you say, Mom.” he replies meekly, wheeling himself off in the direction of his room with a downcast expression.

“Dangit Dream stop it!” Bad splutters, laughing. “Just go get your stuff!”

I collect up all the mugs and dump them in the sink, turning on the tap and briefly rinsing them off. I’ll wash them up later. As I turn and watch Sapnap shoving his mattress up against the wall, my eyes fall on the basket with all our phones in it.

And I have an idea.

xxxDotHxxx

Bad and Dream left for their appointment about an hour ago. Dream is getting a ‘walking boot’ thing that will allow him to walk without crutches. I’m not entirely sure about what it is – he talked about it last night but I was too busy worrying about him to really be listening.

Anyway. They should be back soon. Sapnap is having a shower and I’m once again alone with my thoughts.

The rain is coming down even heavier now, pounding on the roof like there’s no tomorrow. Slowly I slide along the couch and pick up Dream’s phone from the basket. I look it over. It has a bright green case, and tiny little stickers are dotted all over it – little Dream Team-themed ones. Among others there’s a flame, a muffin, and the number 404.

Unwillingly, I power the phone on. The PIN screen flashes up, and I hesitate before keying in a phrase. A while ago Dream was boasting to me over Discord about how amazing his password was and how nobody could ever guess it. He told me it just to show off. I hope he hasn’t changed it since then.

It instantly unlocks it and I give a sigh of relief. I hate doing this. It feels like I’m betraying Dream. But I need to know what is going on. I need to know what I’m up against.

I stare at the screen for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, the device vibrates and a notification from Twitter pops up – and automatically I click it, completely forgetting that this is not my phone.

It takes me straight to his DMs.

I read the message and instantly feel sick. It’s a death threat. I get them often – and they always shake even though I ignore them.

I quickly close it and find myself looking at a list of his other new notifs. Almost half of which are hate messages and doxxing/death threats. My heart starts pounding as I find myself scrolling down through a bunch of tweets he’s been tagged in. How does Dream deal with so much hate? I exit Twitter and pull up his Youtube browsing history. It shows page after page of hate videos and call out threats, videos that ‘expose’ him as a cheat and a fraud and a liar.

There are so many.

This no longer feels to me like I’m invading his privacy by digging through his stuff. It feels like I’m here to pull him out.

A hand rests itself on my shoulder and I jump out of my skin, whirling around to see Sapnap standing over me, eyes dark with concern. He sits down beside me with a frown. “You okay dude? I called you twice and you didn’t hear me. Why do you have Dream’s phone?”

Taking a deep breath, I nod in reply. I was afraid he’d be angry – instead he’s just waiting calmly for me to talk. “I – I needed to know. . . what I- we were up against.” I falter, letting my hands fall into my lap and sighing heavily. “Dream’s been acting so – strange – he was afraid to join a stream last night – you noticed, didn’t you? And he was like, up all night last night, on this stupid phone. You know what he was doing?” My voice has a slightly nervous edge to it as I find my frustrations building against the entire world. Sapnap doesn’t say anything and I continue. “He was watching HATE videos! I don’t even know why. And then look at all these fucking messages. He’s – he nearly DIED!!! And people are telling him to kill himself! WHY? Sapnap – we nearly lost him and I- I don’t want to lose him again–”

And that’s it. I’m crying. Tears sting my eyes and blur my vision as I bury my head in my hands. I feel Sapnap put his sturdy arms around me. “George it’s – it’ll b-be okay. I know how you feel.” His voice trembling a little and I feel ashamed of crying but I can’t stop the tears running down my cheeks.

“They- don’t even know what a - an amazing person he is, they – just see one side of him and they attack him for every little mistake. He’s only- only human.’ I choke out, furiously rubbing my eyes until they ache.

I hear Sapnap sniff and he murmurs something. Neither of us move for a good long while.

Eventually I sit up straight and blink exhaustedly at him. “Sorry. . .” I mumble, smudging my hoodie sleeve across my face. I can’t remember the last time I broke down in front of someone other that Dream.

Sapnap shakes his head with a weak smile. “No – you’re good.” he said softly, reaching over and tossing Dream’s phone back into the basket. “We- won’t let him have that back until at least tomorrow, once he’s gotten a good night’s rest.”

I sigh and rest my head on the back of the sofa. “Okay.” Sapnap isn’t usually good at being nice – he often tries to avoid getting involved.

With a small grin he rubs his nose and stands up. “Go have a shower. It’ll help you feel better. Plus you look like trash.”

Even despite his insults I love Sapnap – no matter how blunt or idiotic he is. He’s like a pesky but likeable little brother to me. “Says the garbage can.” I shoot back in proper brotherly fashion.

He laughs and gives me a rough, friendly shove towards the bathroom.

TBC. . .

Tell me what you thought about this chapter! Do you think George did the right thing? 

And what about Dream. He doesn't deserve any of this, right?

Chapter Text

Wooohooo baby I am back with officially the longest chapter in the book! (3K+ words!)

I't's been a while, I have my  excuses  explanations down at the end of the chapter lol. 

Read on and enjoy! :)

(small-ish TW for P@nic attacks? I'm sorry I'm clueless at tagging, I'm sure if you've read this far you can take whatever's coming. Also I'm not a medical expert, etc. . . y'know lol :)

It’s been a few hours since Dream left with Bad for the hospital appointment. I had the warm shower Sapnap suggested, and now I’m sitting huddled on the couch, watching as Sapnap flicks restlessly through the channels on the TV. He doesn’t really seem interested in any of them.

Neither of us have said a word since this morning events.

I think we’re both a bit embarrassed at what happened.

The storm has picked up since, the rain is definitely coming down with a lot more force now. In fact, it is so loud I don’t even hear the front door opening and Bad and Dream enter the room. All I feel is a hand suddenly tap me on the shoulder and I whirl around to see an excited, rather damp Bad and an equally wet Dream, who is standing quite awkwardly beside the table, grinning shyly and tousling his wet hair back off his face.

He takes a somewhat limping step forward and I glance down at the complicated-looking black boot that has been strapped to his foot. Dream seems really happy, he raises his hands in the air and shrugs. “Look, no wheels!” he jokes, and Bad laughs.

I instantly remember all the tweets I saw on his phone. I’m almost regretting my decision to look, but at the same time I now know what he’s dealing with.

It feels like I’ve been stuck in a paradox.

Sapnap is the first to speak. “Wow – so you can actually walk now? Like, does it still hurt or what?”

Dream flops down on the couch in between us, totally disregarding my nice dry cushions. “Yeah, it’s great! It still kinda hurts, but not much. I mean, like walking on it doesn’t make much of a difference in how it feels.”

“Dude that’s so cool. . .” Sapnap, and although I didn’t say anything, we both are impressed.

Bad beams at us all, but I notice he is reluctant to sit down because he is sensible and realises I probably want to keep my couch dry. I get up and pull some towels from a cupboard, tossing them at my still-dripping visitors. I really don’t know what to say. I can't really ask about how the trip went, I imagine Dream was probably a little stressed while they were out and I don’t want to make him uneasy if I possible.

Sapnap shoots me a quick look before slapping his hands together enthusiastically. “Okay guys, do you think I should go stream now? Just to maybe calm down the idiotic fanbase we have?”

Dream stiffens slightly and I pretend not to notice. I’ve just gotta play it normal. “Well, unless any of you want lunch now – I guess it’ll be fine.” I answer, “You’ve still got your computer set up in the guest room, right?”

“Yeah. You want to join me in the VC or something?”

Bad pipes up from the kitchen, where he’s unpacking a bag of groceries he must have bought on the way home from the hospital. “Hey wait a minute, doesn’t this go against your whole ‘no internet today’ thing?”

Oops – I totally forgot about that for a minute. But as long as Dream’s not on his phone, I guess it doesn’t matter? I glance at him. He’s just sitting there, zoned out. Again. Completely oblivious to the talk around him as he fiddles with the tag on the towel.

Sapnap rolls his eyes and sighs. “I give up on this whole challenge thing. Wasn’t my idea, anyway. Anyway, the fans probably deserve to hear something. It’s been radio silence for nearly a week.” He gets up without waiting on a response from Bad and leaves the room.

Bad shakes his head and opens some tins of soup to heat up for lunch.

xxxDotHxxx

“Hey George – come look at these morons.” Sapnap calls from the spare room. Dream, Bad and I look up from our game of cards. Sapnap’s head eventually appears in the doorway, a look of amused but exasperated annoyance on his face. “The entire chat is begging for you or Dream to make an appearance – on VC, of course.” he adds hastily, “They’re being really dumb about some stuff, saying it’s a prank and y’know. Should I just end stream or something?”

Bad looks frustrated. “Just tell them to calm down, say we’re busy at the moment or something! It’s n-”

“Hey – it’s fine – I’ll come.” Dream cuts in unexpectedly, getting to his feet. At the concerned glances from Bad and I, Dream looks a little confused. “What? It’s alright – they won’t know I’m in England.”

That’s not what I’m worried about. . . I think. That’s not the problem.

“Are you sure Dream?” Sapnap asks hesitantly. He’s thinking the same thing as I am.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Actually I’ll get my own laptop and use that.” Dream says as he limps over to his room and closes the door behind him.

Sapnap shrugs at me and mouths the words ‘what should I do?’

I exhale sharply. “I don’t know. . .” I lower my voice, “just- just don’t let him overdo anything.” I falter, wishing I was better at making decisions. Bad sighs and scoops up Dream’s playing cards, shuffling the deck and dealing another round. I watch as he flips the cards neatly into piles. Bad certainly seems to be enjoying this time off screens, he really likes talking and arranging activities for us to do.

I never really realised how fast time passes sometimes. I’ve been listening to Bad chatter for an hour now about a lot of things, from his dog Lucy aka Rat, to how much of a mess our world is in, and why can’t people be nice. I’m kinda listening to him, but mostly thinking. Daydreaming, I guess you could say. My mood has picked up significantly since this morning.

So that’s why I jump in alarm when Sapnap rather hurriedly opens the door and enters the living room, looking more than a little nervous.

Instantly I’m on my feet, heart racing. “What’s wrong?” I demand, a little harshly but unintentionally.

Sapnap bites his lip. “It’s just – well, it was all fine for the most part, but there were a bunch of horrible donos that slipped through and the chat – just half of them were being nice but the rest weren’t. I ended the stream but Dream- I’m just gonna go check on him. He went really quiet and didn’t say much after a bit.”

I knew this was a bad idea I knew it. . . “I’ll go” I say, and Sapnap nods. I walk down the hallway and gently knock on Dream’s door.

There is a muffled movement and I can barely hear Dream say “come in”. The room is dark and Dream is sitting at the desk, slowly rocking back and forth on the chair. He looks up at me with an odd expression, eventually bringing the movement of the deskchair to a halt. “George? What’s up?” asks Dream.

I almost wince at how soft and quiet his voice is. It’s the voice of someone who’s just sick and tired of drama and is longing for peace. “You. You okay?”

Dream resumes rocking the chair, staring at his hands numbly. “Mhm, yeah. ‘m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Some people are just idiots, you have to ignore them.”

“Uh-huh, I know,” Dream replies, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, “Like you.”

“What?” I force a grin at Dream’s sly dig at me. “C’mon Dream that’s mean. I’m colourblind, it’s not fair.”

I’m rewarded by a soft chuckle from my friend. “You’re such an idiot.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “You wanna do something? It’s getting dark, we could watch a movie and order pizza or whatever.” I suggest, and Dream nods.

“You guys have such trashy weather here.” Dream comments as a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the room, followed by a crash of thunder.

Ha, I’d almost forgot it was literally pouring rain. I’m just used to it. I stick my nose in the air and pretend to be offended, walking out of the room. Sapnap and Bad look at me anxiously, and I shake my head to reassure them as Dream follows me to the couch. “So, we’re gonna watch something!” I announce, tossing a pillow at Sapnap for no reason whatsoever.

He catches it and hurls it back at me. “And who gets to decide on the movie?” he inquires loudly, making room in between the me and him so Dream can sit down.

“It’s my house so I do,” I emphatically declare as Bad pulls a page from his notebook.

“Ohhh no you don’t Gogy.” Sapnap taunts. He looks around for the TV remotes, failing to notice that I’ve already found them and hidden them under a cushion. “We’re the guests so we pick.”

“Alright then. Better let the youngest have his own way.” Putting on a over-the-top British accent, I rub my hands together condescendingly. Sapnap leans over to snatch the remotes from me and we hear a yelp from Dream.

“Oww guys seriously!” Dream cradles his arm and gingerly edges away from Sapnap and I to move next to Bad. “Be careful - that huuurt. . .” he moans exaggeratedly, but his face has gone pretty white so it’s reasonable to assume he’s in a fair amount of pain.

Subdued, both of us immediately sit back meekly and forget about the controls. “Oof. . . sorry Dream.” Sapnap “George was being a jerk. You alright?”

“I – what? No you were being dumb-”

Dream gives a muffled grunt as he awkwardly tries to find a comfortable position to rest his cast. Bad scowls at us and carefully passes Dream a pillow to place his arm on. “Awww Dream are you okay?”

“Yeah-” he replies shortly, sending an annoyed look at the pair of us. “Just- stop fighting over stuff while I’m around.”

Weird thing to say, I guess, but I suppose it makes sense? Although it doesn’t really seem to fit the circumstances.

Bad pats Dream consolingly on the shoulder and looks around for a pen. “I have a solution, guys. Why don’t we write down what we each wanna watch and then draw them out of a hat or something?”

Finally we all agree and a movie is selected at random. It happens to be the one Dream wanted, much to Bad’s delight. He gets the phone and orders pizza, and then Dream just – doesn’t really participate in any of the conversation we have. The storm is really heavy now, and Sapnap insists on switching the lights out “for atmosphere – it’ll make it more like the cinema”, and having the volume of the TV up super loud just so he can hear it over the rain.

I hear the wail of a siren in the distance and freeze up midway through the movie, narrowly avoiding a mild panic attack by making myself breath slowly and calmly as I find my mind flooded with vivid images from what happened– was it two weeks ago now? Longer? I still can’t really believe this has all happened.

I look across at Dream, filled with a sudden immense gratitude that he’s still here with us today. He’s sitting beside me, gazing at the screen but I can tell he’s spaced out again and not even watching the movie. His hands are automatically picking at the fluff on a huge blanket we dragged out earlier to huddle under. It’s really warm – a little too warm, in fact – I’d rather kick it off me but Dream seems to be not bothered and intent on being buried well under it, so I just tolerate the heat. I guess it’s better than being freezing.

The movie finishes and as the credits begin to roll, Bad offers to make some hot chocolate. “Dream, George, Sapnap. Want me to make some popcorn as well?” he proposes, but Dream shakes his head.

“Uhh, no thanks Bad - I’m gonna go to bed now.” he states, shoving the blanket off and standing up. Sapnap reaches over and flicks on the light, causing the four of us to squint until our eyes adjust to the glare. Dream really does look tired, and pale – although his freckled cheeks are unusually flushed.

“Aww, sure Dream.” Bad replies affably, coming over to give Dream a friendly hug. “Goodnight, muffinhead. . . y’know, you’re awful warm - you feel okay?”

Dream seems a little perplexed. “Yeah – it’s kinda cool tonight though. . .” he half-mumbles, before straightening up and turning to leave. “Goodnight, guys. See you tomorrow or whatever.” he yawns.

“Night Dream.” Sapnap responds, and I nod too, inwardly worried. I thought he felt really overheated before, but he kept tugging the blankets over himself as if he were cold. Damn it, why didn’t I notice before???

At least he’s going to bed now. A good night’s sleep will help.

A resounding crack of thunder makes all three of us flinch. “Wow George, you really have this kind of weather all year round?” Sapnap queries, mildly alarmed.

“No. We don’t usually get storms like this every day.” I answer, slumping back on the couch as Bad comes over with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate for us and places them down in front of us. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” he chirps happily, fetching a cup for himself and rejoining us on the couch.

Then we just sit somewhat awkwardly for a moment until Sapnap grabs another movie and puts it on.

xxxDotHxxx

“Hey Sapnap, would you mind just pausing it for a moment?” Bad’s light voice pierces through the room, making me jump. The movie is at a really quiet part, and I was not expecting to anyone to speak.

“What? Why?” Sapnap grumbles, fumbling in the dark for the remote.

“I thought I heard something.” Bad explains, face creasing into a frown.

I stifle a yawn, and then hear something too that sends my heart plummeting. Someone’s crying – worse than that, hyperventilating badly.

And it’s coming from Dream’s room.

There’s an audible gulp from Sapnap and all three of us leap to our feet at once, but Bad’s the first one to reach the door and push it open and rush in.

Dream is sat at the desk, knees drawn up to his chest, tears streaming down his face and he practically is gasping for air as he mumbles something incoherently over and over again.

I feel sick as I dash over, Bad’s already doing something and saying things to Dream but I notice his computer sitting wide open on the Twitter web page.

My legs buckle and I’m forced to grab the desk as I see the image on the screen, with thousands upon thousands of retweets and comments.

It’s a picture of me, at the hospital, with Dream.

“-e’s panicking, Sapnap we have t-”

Although Dream’s face is turned away from the camera and partially concealed by his hoodie, thank God. . .Mine is clearly visible. Everyone knows that the image is of me and Dream. They know he’s in England- they have this picture – do they have more? Oh my God this isn’t happening. . .

“-eorge can you help please?” Sapnap’s sharp plea sounds beside me and I focus on Dream, who is choking out unintelligible words as he recoils from Bad’s touch.

“They- k-know ‘m h-here – I can’t I can’t please Geo-George” he gets out between sobs. “B-Bad- they h-hate m-me why d-did they do th-this I can’t-b-breath I-” he inhales shakily between violent shudders.

Bad grabs Dream’s hand tightly, taking charge. “Sapnap go get some water. Dream, listen to me. Tell me three things you can feel-”

“ Y-your h-hand, the – the chair. . . ‘m s-so d-dizzy . . .” he gasps, reaching a hand to his head.

Bad places his own hand on Dream’s damp forehead and winces. “Okay, that’s okay I know you feel dizzy. . . good Dream. . . now three things you can hear?”

Dream blinks dazedly, swallowing. “Rain. . . th-thunder. . . y-you. . . I c-can’t breathe. . .”

“Good – that’s great Dream. Breath with me, ‘kay? In, out. . . in, out. . .” Bad says soothingly “George – do you have a thermometer or something? I’m sure he’s got a fever.”

“Y-yeah I do – somewhere. . .” I manage, feeling like I’m choking myself. “But I don’t – I don’t know where it is.”

I’m being so useless again. . . I don’t know what to do. My best friend is having a panic attack and I don’t know what to do. . .

“Alright we can get it later – let’s get him over to the bed. Get his arm, George.”

As I gently put Dream’s arm over my shoulder, Sapnap comes back with the water. He quickly sees what we’re doing and pulls the covers down on the mattress.

“W-why did th-they do th-s now they’ll f-find me and k-kill me or w-worse. . .” Dream rambles as we help him up. We basically carry him over and sit him on the bed, he stares at his trembling hands with delirious fascination.

“No Dream, it’ll be alright. . . they don’t know anything.” I feebly reassure him, heart pounding as he glances up at me with fearful, bewildered green eyes.

“They all h-hate m-me so mu-much – I didn’t w-want to ups-set anyone. . . ‘m so s-sorry. . .” he murmurs feverishly, and Bad gently pushes him back against the pillow.

“I know you didn’t mean anything Dream, alright? We all love you to bits. Everything’ll be fine. You just need to sleep, just lie down okay? It’s alright.”

Sapnap steps over, passing Bad the glass of water. Bad offers it to Dream. “Just a few sips, Dream? It’ll help you feel better.”

Dream takes a mouthful and starts shivering, twisting his head away. “’m s-so c-cold. . .” he stutters, teeth chattering as if to prove a point.

I need to do something useful. . . I want to help. I slip out of the room, heading to the couch and grabbing the huge blanket before entering the bathroom to locate the thermometer. I find it at the bottom of a first-aid kit.

Once I’m back in the room, I fold the blanket in half and spread it over Dream, who curls up in it immediately and screws his face up in pain as he accidentally bumps his fractured arm. He seems completely out everything and watching my friend in this condition makes me scared. It’s almost worse than at the hospital. At least he was either unconscious or fully awake there. Now he’s semi-conscious and barely coherent.

After a moment’s hesitation, I sit down beside him and begin cautiously rubbing his back. It seems to calm him down a bit so I continue. Bad keeps talking softly to him, stroking his hair comfortingly until his panicky breathing slows right down and he falls asleep or passes out, I can’t tell. His cheeks are streaked with tears.

Then I see I’ve still got the thermometer clenched in my fist, knuckles white. I hand it to Bad and painfully flex my hand, realising that I’m shaking too. Sapnap is staring at the computer, face red with anger.

The only sound in the room is Dream’s somewhat uneven breaths and smothered whimpers. None of us have the courage to speak.

Bad carefully puts the thermometer in Dream’s mouth, letting it stay there for a moment before clearing his throat and reading out his temperature in a slightly shaky voice. “Uhhh. . . it says 39.1° – George, what’s that in American?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood.

I suck in a deep breath. That’s not good. “I’ll have to check.”I say, unsure of the exact conversion for Fahrenheit. I know Dream’s computer is closer but I balk at the idea of using it after seeing what it was displaying. I want to destroy that image and never see it again.

But I know that now that picture is going to haunt me most likely for the rest of my life.

I can only imagine how Dream feels.

After I retrieve my phone from the basket in the lounge room, I key in the Celsius temperature into an online converter and read out the results. “102.38°.”

“Oh gosh that’s not good.” Bad whispers dismally.

“What should we do?” Sapnap asks, startling me because I forgot he was even in the room.

Bad draws himself up after tucking the covers snugly in around Dream. “We let him sleep,” he says quietly but confidently, “and we’ll take turns at checking on him. I’m assuming he’s got a fever because he’s stressed – like you had, George. But I don’t know, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens”

Dream mutters something brokenly in his sleep. It tears my heart to hear him so scared. He’s just sick it’s fine he’ll be fine everything will be okay. . .

“But what are we gonna do about that?” Sapnap spits, voice loaded with vengeance as he indicates the computer. “What are we gonna do about those fucking morons?”

Bad didn’t even interrupt with his usual ‘Language’. “Look, just shut the computer down.” he directs evenly. “We’re not gonna even reply to it tonight. Our priority is Dream first. Now I’m going to stay in here for a bit and keep and eye on him, you two can go and do something quietly out there.”

Reluctantly, I turn to leave with Sapnap.

“Oh, George – can you bring me a damp cloth or something? Just in case his fever gets any worse.”

“Okay.” I acknowledge. When I reach the bathroom I find myself leaning on the wall in there and closing my eyes for a moment.

I can’t believe what has taken place. Too much has happened today.

I just want it to be over. I wish I was more useful. I want to help but I don’t know how. All I want is for Dream to be fine again, for us to be able to play Minecraft together again. I want to go back to the carefree childhood days we spent playing games for hours at a time.

I just want everything to go back to normal again.

TBC. . .

Ohhh gosh this chapter was so hard to write XD

So, I owe you all an apology for disappearing for over two months :) 

First, after I finished https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934127/chapters/70992699, I decided to take a short break. Then I got sick for a like a week. . . so that knocked me out for a while.

After that, I got hit by writer's block and a mega ton of schoolwork and end-of-year assignments. 

So yeah lol, I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting! I'm hoping to resume a 'normal' weekly upload schedule, and although a bunch of my other writing projects and ideas have been slightly postponed, we are coming up to our Christmas/Summer holidays, so expect to see a lot more from me soon!

Thank you all so much for sticking around, and i'm so grateful for all the reads and support! Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this chapter, and have a great day!!! Byeee!!! :)))

- Flecka <3

Chapter Text

Sapnap and I have never felt more useless. At Bad’s instruction, we leave the room and wander out to the living-room, still unable to believe what just took place. I drop down on the couch, my gut twisting itself into knots of worry. Sapnap sits beside me, leaning against my arm. I appreciate feeling him there with me – it makes me feel a little less alone.

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

I frown, shoving my unsteady hands into my hoodie pockets. “Yeah. What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

I find this so dumb. Both of us are clearly not fine – we’re shaken after that ordeal, and very sleep deprived. And on top of that, our best friend is unconscious in the other room. Again. . .

This situation reminds me all too much of waiting in the hospital while we took turns sitting with a comatose Dream. Waiting to find out if he would be okay. I’m so sick of waiting. I’m sick and tired of everything. Those f- creeps who took that picture. I was supposed to protect Dream. . . looks like I’ve failed again.

Sapnap shifts into a more comfortable position beside me. He appears to have calmed down considerably after taking the direct orders from Bad. We remain silent, listening to the wail of the wind against the windows as the rain pelts down. It’s definitely been a while since we’ve had a storm this bad.

Neither of us move for a long period of time. We’re both too busy thinking and praying.

So tired of all this. I just want Dream to be well again. Why did this all have to happen? He doesn’t deserve it. He was just starting to get better. . .

“Hey, George?”

I jolt awake – awake? Did I fall asleep? - as someone whispers my name and shines a flashlight into my face. I cover my eyes, making out Bad’s shadowed form standing a few feet away. Sapnap snores gently beside me.

“Bad? What- what time is it?” I yawn, stiffly getting to my feet. Then my heart sinks. “Is Dream okay? What’s wrong?”

Bad steps over quietly, handing me the torch. “Nothing, he’s just the same as before. Except his temperature has gone up slightly. But since he’s asleep, we can’t really do much about that. It’s only twelve-thirty. PM.” he adds, as if that was necessary.

I sigh, rubbing my shoulder. It’s aching I must have had it in a weird position. . . “Okay. Well – you want me to go stay with him for a while?”

Nodding, Bad sits down. “Thanks. And after about an hour, come wake Sapnap up for his turn.”

“Sure.”

I leave the living-room and head into the bedroom. Dream is twitching feverishly and muttering something garbled under his breath but doesn’t seem to respond when I take the no-longer damp cloth off his forehead. It’s warm and almost completely dry. I take it to the bathroom and hold it under the cold tap for a few seconds before squeezing the excess water out of it. Then I go and place it gently on Dream’s head. He flinches, pulling away from the cool cloth. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin as I brush his hair back off his face.

A crash of thunder sounds overhead and Dream shrinks back and moans, still trapped in the depths of slumber. I sit quietly on the end of the bed, just watching as he murmurs unintelligibly. He’s talking an awful lot.

Ohhh yeah, that’s right. Dream has told me before that he already sleep-talks a lot. And this fever is not helping.

“’m s-rry. . . don’ l-t th’m come – please- ‘m sorry I’m sorry. . .” the few words that I can make out are concerning, to say the least. It sounds like he’s pleading with someone to ‘not let them come’ and that ‘he’s sorry’.

That makes me feel angry, the emotion chasing away any lingering exhaustion from earlier. He literally did nothing wrong – he did nothing to deserve this amount of hate. He might have made mistakes in the past, but he’s learned from them and moved on! Plus he struggles with more problems and issues than probably most of the people condemning him.

Or, maybe not – the idiots on Twitter and Youtube falsely accusing him of things obviously must have some mental issues going on right there. . .

I don’t stir for another hour, mind racing with so many thoughts that it almost hurts me. I wonder if this is kinda what it’s like for Dream – he has said before that often he can’t think clearly or do anything because there is simply too much going on in his mind. He’s mentioned, especially when he was a teenager, that he’s nearly had panic attacks because of it.

I can’t imagine having to deal with this more than once. God, and people are still attacking him after everything he goes through?

Glancing at the clock, I watch as the minute hand slowly edges onto the 2:00 mark. I make a move to get up but then I hear Dream say my name. “G-George?” his voice is muffled by blankets and heat and barely audible so I bend closer to listen.

“Dream – are you awake?”

“G’rge don’ go. . .” he slurs sleepily, listlessly twisting onto his side and tugging the blankets up around him.

I feel uneasy. Is he awake? Or just sleep-talking? I put my hand on his forehead and he leans into my ‘cold’ hand, shuddering. I bite my lip hard - he feels like he’s literally burning up. I pull away and switch the lamp on dimly to look for the thermometer as Dream blinks confusedly up at me, eyes glazed and bright with fever.

“Wha’ ‘re you doin’?” he manages, looking dazed. His face is flushed bright red, the freckles dusted across his cheeks fading under the warm light.

“I’m just gonna check you temperature, Dream.” I reassure him, and he closes his eyes again.

“M’kay. . .” he doesn’t react as I slip the thermometer carefully into his mouth, holding it there for minute before drawing it out and feeling my heart sink to my stomach as I read the display.

“39.5°. . .” I whisper despondently.

That’s higher than it was before. I watch Dream as he burrows deeper into the pillow, shivering despite the thick blanket heaped on top of him. And I decide to go wake Bad.

But as I turn to go I Dream calls out softly to me, voice raspy from sleep “George? ‘m th’rsty.”

I look around for the glass Sapnap bought in earlier. “Hey Dream you’re gonna have to sit up a bit to drink this, okay?” I tell him, and he weakly tries to oblige but I end up having to help him into a better position while he agitatedly paws the still-wet cloth off his forehead, much to my dismay. I offer him the glass and he shakily takes it, greedily gulping mouthfuls of the cold water until I pull it away from him. “Oookay that’s enough. . .” I inform my best friend, who gives me a hazy moan of disappointment before sliding back down under the covers.

I hesitate. “Dream? Don’t go back to sleep yet – I’m gonna go get Bad and we’ll give you some meds or something.”

Dream’s brow furrows in slight confusion. “Bad’s h’re?” he asks, bemused.

I feel cold sweat start to prickle on my skin. Has his fever gone up that much? “Yeah, and Sapnap. You’re in England, remember?” I say hopefully.

He stares at the wall for a second while his overheated mind tries to work out what I’ve just said. Then he nods slowly. “Oh, yeah. . . th’ meet-up-” he states in more of a questioning tone, but I sigh in relief.

“That’s right.”

Suddenly fear flickers in his eyes. “They know ‘m here, don’ they? They’ve s-seen what I l-look like. . .” he swallows, uninjured fist balling up tightly around the covers.

I know exactly who he means by ‘they’.

He sounds slightly more coherent now, so I take a deep breath, give him a few more small sips of water, and attempt to keep him calm. “We don’t think so, Dream. All they know is that you’re not lying about breaking your arm and leg.” I assure him, inwardly wishing that that was the entire truth and that there was no other complications.

I think he accepts my explanation for now though, and while he considers my words I take the opportunity to sneak out to the lounge-room, slightly unnerved at the vacant, blank look that was on Dream’s face. He’s taking this really oddly – I fully expected him to start panicking again.

Bad has set himself up with a mattress to sleep on since Sapnap involuntarily took the couch. I shake his shoulder, regretting that I have to wake him he looked so exhausted when he fetched me but he’s awake in an instant, yawning and getting up on one shoulder. “George? Everything okay?”

I shrug. “Okay is not the word I would use, but nothing’s too wrong, unless you count the fact Dream’s temperature has gone up again.” I say, surprising myself with my snarky words. I did not mean to say that out loud. Bad looks a little taken aback, and I continue. “I’m sorry. Dream’s awake, could we give him some Nurofen for his fever?”

“Sure. Go get them and I’ll go check on Dream.” Bad replies, tiredly preparing himself to leave his comfortable bed.

I find the Nurofen with ease, finding myself feeling more and more grateful to Bad as the time goes on. We’d be in a lot more mess than we are in currently if he wasn’t here.

When I get back to the bedroom, Bad’s talking quietly to Dream and from the more cohesive answers Dream gives I assume that things aren’t as bad as I first thought.

“Here you are.” I say, snapping a pill out of its protective case and handing it to Dream. He reluctantly swallows the pill with a mouthful of water and leans back on the extra pillow Bad’s put behind his back.

“Poor Dream – being sick isn’t nice, is it?” Bad says sympathetically after a few minute’s silence has elapsed and Dream seems to be more firmly grounded in reality as the Nurofen finally begins to kick in to combat the fever. “How do you feel?”

At this point Dream doesn’t seem to care about being babied. “Like trash.” Dream mumbles, pushing back his tousled blond hair that is now tangled and mussed with sweat. “Feel sick. An’ dizzy.” he sluggishly admits as he slumps deeper into the cushions and pulls the blankets close. “’M cold.” He tilts his head to look at the window and then at the roof, an blatantly annoyed expression crossing his face. “George, you have dumb weather here. It’s loud and rainy and wet and freezing.” he decides, shivering as Bad feels his hot, clammy forehead.

At any other time I would have laughed at this basic summary of the English climate. But I don’t. Instead I give him a quick smile. “You’ll survive, Dream. You just gotta get used to it.” I respond, and he gives me a weary huff of disbelief, eyelids drooping as they threaten to drag him into the thralls of sleep.

“Go to sleep.” Bad tells him, and he doesn’t disobey. He snuggles down and doesn’t utter another word. Bad offers to have a turn sitting up with him, because neither of us have the heart to wake Sapnap, but I refuse.

This is my job. I’m gonna do something useful for once. Bad deserves to rest.

Once Bad’s left the room and turned to light out, however, Dream stirs again. “George?”

“Mhm? You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Can’t, h’rts.”

“What does?”

“M’ head. And m’ leg. An’ my arm. . . aches all ov’r, G’rge.”

I pat his shoulder comfortingly, disturbed by how pitiful he sounds. “What do you want me to do?” I keep my voice down.

“Don’ go. Stay h’re w’ me. Talk t’ me. . .” he murmurs quietly, shuffling over on the bed to make room.

After a moment’s indecision I lie down gratefully since I am exhausted, facing the opposite way to him. Although there’s still about ten inch’s space between us, I can feel the feverish heat radiating from his trembling back. “Okay, Dream. . . what about?”

“An’thin’. . .” he whispers inaudibly, nudging closer to me to try and keep warm. He’s acting like a sick child and it’s so unlike him that it both unnerves me but at the same time makes me feel like I can actually do something to help.

I feel my own eyes starting to close, I’m so tired myself but I force them open, staring into the inky blackness of the roof where I know the fan usually hangs. “Sure. Well, ummm. . . did you know- I once hiked up a mountain in the rain? It was really cold,” I say softly, inspired by the pattering of the rain against the windows. “It was for a school trip and it. . .”

Dream listens in silence, apart from his rapidly slowing, uneven, raspy breaths. I know he doesn’t really want to hear some lame story about my school days, he just doesn’t want to feel lonely. He wants distraction from the ceaseless ache that comes with broken limbs and being sick with a fever. He’s probably fallen asleep by now already.

Almost more for my own benefit, I go on speaking gently for a long time, wandering through old memories, drifting through tales of some boring, important, historic English figure, meandering across light topics and at last my childhood dreams, until I finally doze off with Dream’s overly warm body nestled deep in the pile of blankets beside me.

TBC. . .

Thank you a ton for reading!!! Hope you enjoyed! 

If you got this far, please drop a heart or bookmark or both!!! <3 And a comment! (Seriously your comments are amazing I love you all so much :)

 What do you think the Four Muffinteers are gonna do about this situation? And poor muffin Dream. Honestly imagine if this all actually happened. . .

Chapter Text

Eheheh yes I'm a day late but please forgive me, there's only like a week until Christmas, I'm so busyyyy XD

Also enjoy, and be sure to leave a comment telling me what you think! :)

Sapnap’s tired but amused voice is the next thing to wake me. “George – dude come on.” he jokes quietly. “Your room is literally across the hall, and you’re asleep in here with Dream. Explain yourself.” he snorts teasingly.

I blink at him, rubbing my eyes. Someone has put a blanket over me at some point, and I’m really hot. The shirt where my back was touching Dream is soaked in sweat. Shoving myself up on one arm, I twist around to get a better look at my friend, completely ignoring Sapnap’s somewhat suggestive remarks. Dream is loosely curled up beside me – sleeping restlessly with feverish chills racking his overheated body. Worried, I look around for the thermometer.

“Hey George – he’ll be okay, for now.” I glance at Sapnap, who’s dropped any illusion of entertainment and is showing genuine concern. He’s sitting next to the bed, a half-read book in his hand. “Bad just checked his temperature, it’s 103.3°.”

“What’s that in Celsius?” I ask, voice rough from sleep. I wish Americans did things the proper way. They write the date wrong, use the wrong units of measurement, spell things wrong, and can’t even read a thermometer correctly! Honestly. . . I shake my head to clear it, uncertain why I’m suddenly feeling so hostile to Americans. It’s not like this is their fault we’re in such a mess. It’s mine. . . I’m so dumb

“39.61°.” Sapnap replies, closing his book and clearing his throat awkwardly. He’d obviously looked up the answer.

Ohhh God that is really high. . .

I carefully sit up, trying not to disturb Dream. As I leave his side he shudders and gives an unhappy moan, snuggling desperately into the pillows before burying his head under the blankets for warmth.

Remorsefully I get to my feet and go straight to my room to change my damp hoodie for something cooler, saying good morning to Bad on the way. He’s making tea for us all, and even seems to have found some ‘cookies’ as he calls them they’re literally biscuits in my pantry. And also, being the ever-caring soul that he is, has heated up some chicken broth for Dream when he wakes up.

It’s still raining – even though it’s not stormy anymore it’s still pouring heavily. We all gather in Dream’s room rather aimlessly and sit around quietly drinking tea for half an hour until at long last Dream’s flushed, sleepy face slowly peaks out from under the thick mound of blankets, dirty-blond hair dishevelled and stuck with perspiration to his forehead.

He stares at us drowsily for a few moments. “G’mornin’. . .” he manages with a vague semblance of a smile, voice heavy with fatigue.

Bad gently reaches over and places a hand on Dream’s head. “Morning, Dream! How do you feel?”

Dream shifts onto his back, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’t ev’n ask.” he mutters, shivering. “Cold. Tired.” He looks totally miserable. His usually soft voice sounds rough and exhausted, and his breathing is congested and stuffy. He also looks a little confused as he takes in his surroundings and finally his own state. “Why’s my sh’rt so wet? An’ my face?”

“You’re just sweating” Retracting his hand, Bad gives Dream a empathetic look. “Your fever has gone up, you’re really hot.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Dream’s face again. “Aren’t I always?” he says as a weak joke, and Sapnap fails to suppress a smug chuckle.

I give him a small grin in return. Gosh he’s such an idiot.

“Oh c’mon. . . right George?” Dream gives a wheezing sigh and suddenly looks worn out.

I roll my eyes and reply, “No, you’re just a hot mess right now.”

Dream just exhales heavily and tugs the covers closer around him, suddenly sneezing. He gives a low moan.

Bad laughs sadly and gets up. “Aww you poor muffinhead. Now you barely had anything to eat last night, are you hungry?”

“Dunno. . .” Dream shrugs.

“That’s okay – I’ve got some nice hot soup out in the kitchen for you!” Bad tells him enthusiastically, leaving the room before Dream can protest and soon coming back with a steamy mug of broth. With effort Dream sits up and takes it reluctantly, scrunching his nose up at the smell. Bad looks mildly disappointed. “Ohh come on, please drink a bit of it?” Bad pleads coaxingly. “It’ll make you feel better and warm you up.”

That seems to do the trick, and Dream unwillingly takes a few sips before he recloses his eyes. After several minutes pass, and I’m just beginning to wonder if he’s fallen asleep again, he blinks dazedly and focuses on us again. “S’rry.” he says sheepishly. “I really ‘m ruining this meet-up, aren’t I?”

“No you’re not!” Bad asserts, lightly tapping Dream’s still nearly full cup to remind him to keep drinking. “You can’t help being sick, okay?”

I find myself frowning as I watch him. He doesn’t seem to be acknowledging what happened last night at all. Could it be shock? Dissociation? What should I even do about it? I really don’t want to be the one who tells him. Just the thought of having to face the chaos that will be Twitter sends chills down my spine.

“But what’re you all gonna do now?” Dream asks slowly, as if it’s an effort to speak.

All three of us exchange glances. We’d already decided what we were to do while Dream was asleep.

Address the leaked image and Twitter drama.

But it seems counter-intuitive to tell that to Dream, who looks like right now is having trouble staying awake and whose usually sharp mind seems dulled by the high fever. And I don’t think either of us could get through another panic attack episode.

Bad tilts his head on the side. “Oh, I dunno!” he says airily, and I am relieved that he’s decided not to let on our actual plans. “We’re probably just gonna play some games and watch TV until you feel better!” he smiles kindly at the sleepy Dream, who seems to accept Bad’s words.

“Oh. Okay.” he mumbles, taking one more mouthful of soup before grimacing and putting the mug down on the bedside table, looking about three shades paler that he did before despite his fever-red cheeks.

“You should really get some more rest now, alright?” Bad informs him, collecting up the empty teacups. “We’re all gonna let you sleep now. Anything you want?”

Dream shakes his head and immediately seems to regret it. “No, th’nks.” he replies, voice subdued by the bedclothes. “Can you turn th’ light off?” Bad switches the light off at Dream’s request and we all walk quietly out of the room. I’m the last to go and as I do I hear Dream murmur “G’night, G’rge. . .”

“Goodnight, Dream.” I whisper back, before closing the door.

Once we are all sat around the table in the dining room, Bad takes charge again. “Now, listen up. We’ve gotta decide how we’re gonna address this problem. All the fans and even the nasty people are gonna be listening to see how we react, so we’ve gotta be careful. Before I give my suggestions as to how we should act, does anyone else have any ideas?”

Sapnap thumps his fist down on the table angrily. “Report the idiot who posted that picture. Don’t acknowledge that it’s Dream and George in the image, get him cancelled and every other toxic hater SHOW THE BASTARDS WHAT REVENGE IS.” he says furiously.

“Language! But okay, that’s an idea.” Bad says, albeit a little dubiously. “What do you think, George?”

I swallow, not having really prepared any course of action. “Uhh, what’s your idea first?” I ask, stalling for time. I literally have no clue as to how to handle this situation. All I want is to do the things that will be best for Dream. I don’t care what happens to me, as long as Dream’s okay.

Bad sighs. “I reckon we should make a tweet explaining everything. The meet-up, the accident, the entire story. Because honestly, I don’t think there’s any way we can deny the picture. And then they can’t accuse us of lying about anything if we come clean about it all.”

“That won’t stop them from saying we’re liars anyway, the f-.” Sapnap growls under his breath.

“George?”

“I – I dunno. I’m not sure if we should tell them everything – it could be problematic, like y’know. . . people have no consideration and they’d all be hyper on the lookout for us. We have a lot of fans in London.” I glance out the window at the dark clouds. “We should let them know that Dream isn’t well, because of their actions.”

With an understanding nod, Bad pulls out a notebook from his pocket. He literally always has pencil and paper on him I think with slight amusement. He looks at us both with a serious expression. “Alright. Sapnap, we will get the muffinhead reported. And George, we’ll tell them how sick Dream is now, and it’s partly their fault. Could you get your computer? We can use it to draft the tweet first.”

I dutifully go and grab my laptop from my bedroom, putting it on the table and pressing the power button with hesitation. I really don’t want to face the internet today. But this has to be done.

For Dream.

We spend the next hour trying to draft a tweet that will work. But it just isn’t coming together. For one thing, I am terrible at words, so that leaves a Sapnap who is out for revenge, and Bad, who wants to tell the whole story but has too much to admonish the wrongdoers about. It’s just too long.

Irritably, Sapnap turns to me. “Well – this isn’t working. Any better ideas?”

I pull the computer over towards me, and Sapnap and Bad watch as I open up Discord. Notifications flood in, messages of support from the whole Dream SMP, notably ones from from Techno and rather vociferous ones from Tommy.

Big Man T: Gogy how’s everything going? You’ve not been online in days – hope you and Dream & the others are doing alright .

Big Man T: I just saw the fucking picture – is Dream okay? The motherf-ckers- please give me permission to go commit some crimes George. Also please respond it’s been probably nearly a week or some shit, me an’ Tubbo are worried sick. Let us know how Dream is please Gogy.

Technoblade: Hey guys I just saw this whole Twitter drama go down, how’s Dream coping? Some people honestly ought to be buried alive under a rock. Tell Dream we’re all here for him.

Technoblade: Bruh it’s been like hours since the image was tweeted - George I know you’re busy and such but please let us know how you are holding up. All of us are gettin’ really concerned.

That’s only four of the probably hundreds of messages on Discord, there are several more from Tommy – he tends to spam message when he’s excited/troubled he might be obnoxiously loud and foulmouthed and annoying when you first meet him, but he cares so much for his friends. And to have more than one message from Techno must mean people are getting pretty anxious about the situation. I feel guilty for neglecting to respond to everyone – last time I replied to them all, it was when Dream was released from hospital. Days ago. I dread to think how many missed calls are on my phone.

I stare at the screen for a minute, hands hovering above the keys as I prepare to type a reply. But no words come.

Then an idea strikes me, and I look up at Bad and Sapnap. “Let’s go live.” I suggest, and they both seem confused. “We turn off donos, subs, facecam, everything. And we take turns at speaking. Tell them the whole thing.”

Bad must have sensed the obvious nervousness in my voice, because he smiles at me encouragingly. “Honesty is the best policy. I think that’s a good plan, George. Sapnap?”

Sapnap slowly nods. “Yeah. Count me in.”

I inhale deeply and take the pencil. “Alright. Let’s make some notes about what we are gonna say.” I know this isn’t gonna be easy. I am awful at talking about how I feel, and about other’s especially my own emotions. In the end, we decide that I’m going to speak first, and tell the audience everything that’s happened, from the planned meetup to the accident, ending with the events of last night. Basic stuff – I don’t have to talk about feelings. That will make this whole situation just a little bit easier.

Then Sapnap will take over, letting everyone know Dream’s current condition, and also telling them some of the struggles Dream has to go through on his own, without all the toxic creeps that constantly stir up hate against him.

Finally Bad will talk to the viewers and address the horrible accusations and its negative impact on not only just Dream, but all the other content creators and their friends.

I look at the tweet again showing the image of me and Dream, feeling nauseous just reading it.

Logoff @whiplash96

decided to visit a few hospitals in london today. saw these assholes checking out of one of them. is this you, @.Dreamwastaken & @.GeorgeNotFound? looks like your beloved dream was lying, idiotic stans. he’s not in florida. he’s manipulating you for sympathy and views. get this fucking monster and his ‘friends’ cancelled. Dream, there’s no screen or stupid smile for you to hide behind now.

“Fricking jerk. . .” I hear Bad mutter to himself, much to my surprise. “Poor, poor Dream had to read that – oh my goodness.”

Sapnap looks sick. “Yeah- I wish I could have stopped him. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s not your fault, Sapnap.” Bad tells him consolingly.

I find myself apprehensively chewing the inside of my lip as we set up the computer for the stream, shoulders tense and aching from the stress. I am so nervous this is killing me just thinking of this all.

Bad goes in to check on Dream and put a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. “He’s asleep, the poor muffin doesn’t look very well at all.” Bad informs us upon returning. “So we’d better start now before he wakes up. You ready, George?”

God, it takes so much effort to open up Twitch. Pulling the headphones down comfortably on my ears, I give a small nod. “Yeah. I-I’m good.” I reply as I name the stream simply We Need To Talk, and hit the Go Live button. I notice Tommy and Tubbo are both live right now too.

As the followers begin to trickle in fast, the chat fills quickly with frantic questions and speculations as to why I’m going live right now. I have almost 400K viewers right now, all of them staring at a black screen. I decide to open the Minecraft and make a new Creative world, just so I have something familiar to do while I’m talking.

The follow count suddenly jumps up as we receive raids from Tubbo then Tommy almost simultaneously. I clear my throat, sitting in silence for a few minutes until I am sure all the notifications have gone out. Then I take a deep breath and switch from the black screen so they can all see my dumb little Minecraft character gazing at them.

“Hello, guys.” I saw, trying to keep my voice light and normal and ignoring the chat as best I can. “So, a lot has happened – I have Bad and Sapnap with me currently,” I glance over my shoulder to see both my friends give me supportive smiles. Even despite that though my heart is still racing as I continue, “they’re gonna be talking later. But right now- I’m going to tell- tell you exactly what’s happened. . .”

TBC. . .

Woooo thank you for over 14K readers!! I'd love to hit 100 bookmarks before Christmas, so if you don't mind subbing/leaving kudos/bookmarking this I'd be so happy!! :)))

See you soon with a new chapter, love you all! :D

Chapter Text

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!!! Thanks for sticking with this story for so long, it means to world to me and you're all awesome! :) <3

“So – for one thing,” I hesitantly catch a glimpse of chat, the majority of whom are pleading to know about Dream. “Dream is uhh, still asleep right now.” I say. “And he won’t be joining us for this stream – so yeah. Don’t ask.”

maybe that sounded a little mean. . .

Just thinking about Dream is making me choke up with worry, so I give a small cough and begin idly tapping the keyboard, making my Minecraft avatar just sprint-jump aimlessly in one direction. “Right. I’m gonna be explaining everything that’s been going on recently. It started like, two weeks ago? Yeah, we had planned a surprise for you all. We’d decided that Dream and Sapnap and Bad were gonna- visit me and we’d have a whole meetup and vlog stuff maybe, y’know.”

It’s my fault – if I’d not insisted on them coming to England instead of me visiting them, perhaps all this would never have happened.

I find myself trailing into silence, thinking. Bad touches me on the shoulder and I hurriedly continue with my narrative.

“So once they all arrived, we planned to meet somewhere for takeaways and eat out on the beach or whatever. All of us got there before Dream, and he- he was taking ages to get there. We waited for like, half an hour or more.”

I can remember that afternoon as if it happened yesterday. Sitting at the table, growing more anxious with every passing minute, staring at the phone silently pleading for Dream to call and explain why he was so late.

“Then the phone r-rang. And it was a cop calling from Dream’s phone, and- and he um. . . said that Dream’s taxi had been in a crash-” I swallow, tears stinging my eyes despite my attempts to blink them away. “so we uhh, left and walked to the place were he w. . . Yes, it was late afternoon.” I reply to a brief message I saw in chat, taking a moment to regain my composure and readjust my headphones. I swear if I cry on stream I’m never gonna do this again.

“They took him straight to hospital after th-they cut him free from the wreckage. We followed and sat in the waiting room for what, something like four hours?” I look over at my friends for confirmation but they only shrug and nod so I turn back to my mic.

It was a long, long time. We sat in shock for the first few hours, unable to comprehend what had just taken place. Then I turned on my phone and discovered the first photo, of me at the crash site.

“After a bit I looked at my phone, and someone had taken a photo of me at the accident. You guys knew it was me, but I didn’t want to admit it was D-Dream in the crash so I lied. Yes, we – we thought it would be better in the long run, to put less pressure on Dream, but – yeah I don’t think it worked out the way we intended.” I end with a bitter laugh.

I notice several flying accusations in chat and bury my head in my hands for a moment. “We’re SORRY for lying to you. But you gotta understand, we have our own private lives too! We have things we want to keep secret – things we want t-to- protect.” My voice is muffled and there is no face cam but I know the 450K viewers that I have gained can hear how my voice is shaking.

I wanted to protect my friend but I FAILED. Failed in big capital letters.

L

LOSER.

After another pause and after I take a drink of water, I go on. “Eventually the doctor came over and told us that Dream had broken his leg and fractured his arm, not to mention concussion. Also, he was still in a coma.”

The chat, to put it mildly, is extremely horrified.

“He didn’t wake up for two days.” the worst few days of my entire life. I hope I never have to relive them again. I was so freaking scared of what might happen to Dream. My best friend. “But when he did, he was really tired but that was to be expected. The doctors said he’d be okay.”

I keep speaking, somewhat on autopilot as I begin to explain what happened in the week that followed. Not saying too much about how Dream was acting, just giving the fans the basic facts and how things proceeded. Trying to keep my dumb emotions out of the story. About Dream leaving hospital and us four muffinteers finally meeting up at my place, going to get a walking boot so he didn’t need the wheelchair, etc. . .

And now I’m up to the part where I have to explain the events of the past two days. The hardest things to talk about. I halt my monologue and absently break and replace a block of sandstone in the creative world, trying to find the right words to use.

“Uhh. . . so about last night. I guess that’s what you all have been wanting to hear, right? Things aren’t- they aren’t going as good as we would like. You’ve all seen- the picture, r-right? Yeah. It is of me. And Dream. It must have been taken at the hospital – b-but I didn’t notice anyone with a c-camera or I’d have been more careful. I was too busy focused on helping Dream and everything.”

My gut twists into knots of anxiety as I recount what happened less than twelve hours ago. “We were watching a movie, and it finished, so Dream decided he wanted to go to bed – he seemed really tired, and said he was cold. So he left and we put on another movie and halfway through that – it was only like an hour later- Bad said he could hear something. And we went to check on Dream and h-he. . .”

I choke on my words and force myself to take a deep breath. “h-he was having a panic attack because he had just s-seen the tweet and the fact that he was running a fever didn’t help. He finally fell asleep or passed out or something. And he woke up briefly this morning but he’s not much better.” I grind out with growing frustration at my helplessness at the situation. “And so thank you so all of that. He – was on the mend, and then y-”

“George.” Bad whispers warningly behind me, and I sigh heavily.

“I’m sorry, guys. We’re not blaming you, just- some of your actions- I’ll let Sapnap speak now.” I finish quickly, ashamed of how I just attacked the chat like that. Also I’m literally on the verge of tears, I don’t think I’d be able to say much more without breaking down on a livestream and I don’t think I could live with that. I get up from my chair and beckon Sapnap over before sitting down heavily. I’m gnawing the inside of my cheek and I can taste blood. This entire situation feels kind of surreal and weird. I don’t think I did a good job explaining anything. And at this point, I think, staring as if mesmerised at the chat, I don’t know if I ever will.

Blinking, I frown in disbelief at the amount of hateful messages that are directed at me now, for lying, for ‘being toxic’, for basically existing, everything. And although it hurts to see them, all I can think of is – thank God these aren’t directed at Dream

Once I draw myself back to reality, Sapnap has greeted the chat quietly and already begun his conversation. “. . .and he literally gets sometimes hundreds of death threats a day – they’re disgusting. Dream says he doesn’t care, and he ignores it but honestly it does get to him. I can tell. I’ve known him since I was eleven. He brushes it off and pretends to ignore it but I- we all can see how much it affects him. Especially now.”

I feel appreciative of Sapnap. He’s trying so hard not to lose his temper and shout at the toxic idiots out there. The calm yet tense tone of his voice gives it away.

“Dream doesn’t talk about it much but he has problems, ones that have been made worse by being in an accident. After the traumatic injuries he got in the crash, of course he’s not going to be himself. He’s still trying to recover from everything and this is not helping. He- he already struggles with self-doubt a lot of the time, and the stuff some of you put out there just makes it worse. Dream pushes himself to be better but you’re never happy.”

My mind flickers back to the amount of hate videos I’d seen that Dream was watching, and all of a sudden I realise why – and the thought makes my head throb. Apart from being stuck in a downwards spiral, he’s watching them to see why he’s such a ‘bad person’ - so he can try to improve himself.

He’s trying harder than ever to be what the fans want – to give them what they ask for at the cost of his own physical and mental well-being.

He doesn’t think he’s good enough.

Guilt begins to pool in my stomach as Sapnap talks seriously in the background. Did we never let Dream know he already is more than good enough for us? We don’t deserve him. He doesn’t need to prove his worth to us, he’s already more valuable than the whole world to me.

H e never deserved any of this.

Then there’s that tiny little voice in the back of my head, constantly whispering

What if we just quit Youtube altogether. . .

And for the smallest moment, I consider it as a valid option.

Sapnap is now asking more like begging for the viewers to go and block, report, do everything to get the person who tweeted the second image off Twitter and for no one to repost or share the photo.

“Bad?” I nudge him as Sapnap vacates the desk chair to make way for Bad, who moves over to the computer setup and glances down at his notes.

Sapnap and I exchange a small smile despite Sapnap looking completely worn out. Of course, Bad’s made detailed notes for himself.

“Uhm, hello everyone!” Bad says with fake cheerfulness that is undermined by the strained quality of his voice. “I hope you’re all doing well – I am- well, as good as I could be in these circumstances. . . So yeah – we’ve got a few things to- to talk about. And I’m not gonna like, beat around the bush or anything, I’ll just get straight to the point, okay? I’m not being mean or anything to you guys, I know most of you mean well of course!”

And Bad begins admonishing the viewers in such a kind, earnest tone that you wouldn’t want to ignore him. He’s the best when it comes to these kind of things.

Honestly, Bad has carried so well these past few weeks I don’t know how we would have coped without him.

“. . .like, if this is the kind of response us content creators get when bad stuff does happen, then you gotta understand we won’t want to share as much with you people! It’s not that we don’t wanna, we just can’t put up with it all, all this horrible nasty things some of you say- especially Dream since he’s sick, the poor muffin, and still recovering from a really bad accident! Like, c’mon guys, surely that makes sense, huh?”

Chat is filled with things like ‘Nodders’ and a multitude of apologies, almost drowning out the negative messages that are still pouring in.

“And it also affects not just Dream, but Dream’s friends too - because if Dream’s upset and stressed out about something that makes us sad too and we wanna help him but it’s so hard with all this going on! It makes us all miserable. Oh, and not to mention other young, new content creators who are just starting out, because if they see this stuff going on and think ‘oh, that’s what happens when you get famous’, they’re not gonna want to actually try and it will ruin their possibly lifetime dream of becoming a Youtuber!”

Sapnap nods slowly beside me in agreement to Bad’s gentle yet stern argument. I’m half zoned out, listening while my mind whirls with thoughts and regrets and plans to be a better friend for Dream and the others.

“But things can be fixed, okay? There’s always hope for the future and we forgive you if you genuinely mean well! So all we want you muffinheads to do right now is try to be less nasty to people, even if you really hate them. Just ignore them and don’t bother to get mad at someone if you hate them! They’re not worth your time, really. And stop spamming so much hate at us all! It doesn’t help us be better people, if that’s your problem – and if it’s not then you’d have to explain more clearly because just shouting ‘You’re horrible I hate you’ does not tell us why or offer any suggestions as to how we could improve, right? And kindness is the best way forward.”

Bad smiles sadly and takes a deep breath, his notes shoved to the side. He barely even glanced at them during the entire speech.

“I want you to try spreading positivity and- and niceness to everyone you know. You know the saying – ‘Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle’? Well, Dream is fighting a really hard one and we wanna help him get through this really tough time, so yep. Be kind, you muffinheads. Bye guys!”

Giving a look over at me, Bad indicates to the End Stream button. I give him confirmation and we go offline. Bad shuts the computer off almost instantly.

Then we all slump back, unable to look at each other in the eyes. Silence creeps through the room and wraps us in its grasp, stifling any thoughts of conversation.

But I think I speak for us all when I say we have never felt more exhausted in all our lives.

TBC. . .

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Woooo so close to 16.5K reads! You're all amazing! :)

Also make sure to read to the end of this chapter, i've got a question to ask! :D

I really hope you enjoy this chapter, it fought me tooth and nail for some reason and i got writers block in a major way XD

For several minutes nobody makes a sound.

Then we hear a sniffle and Bad frantically scrubs a hand over his face but it’s too late, tears are already pouring down his cheeks.

“H-hey, Bad? What’s up?” Sapnap’s soft voice comes from beside me as he moves across to place an arm around poor Bad’s shoulders. I have already frozen up, uncertain about how to deal with a crying friend. It’s ten times more different and harder doing it through a screen or by text. I pat his back gently, imitating Sapnap, and feel ashamed of my inability to do anything useful.

Bad rubs his eyes, shaking his head. “I- I dunno. . . it’s j-just everything. Like, we’ve tried to b-be nice, and-” he chokes out and reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief of course he has one on him. “They’re just so m-mean to poor Dream, he’s so miserable n-now and hurt and they just keep upsetting h-him! C-can’t they see how much harm it does?”

“I’m sure some do. . .” I respond almost inaudibly, “just- there are too many of the- the others.” I don’t know if that helped, because Bad just buries his head into Sapnap’s shoulder and cries quietly for another few minutes.

And once again I realise how selfish and dumb I am for forgetting that other people have feelings too and I’m not the only one with major problems.

Finally Bad sits up straighter and sniffs, blinking back further tears and swallowing. “Well, I g-guess there isn’t much more we can do now. . .” he flashes a weak smile at us as he stands up. “I suppose the s-storm is over now, all that is left is to clean up the debris and keep going. . . right? It can only get better from here, surely?”

We both return the smile of acknowledgement. I really don’t know what to think at this point, I’m so tired. I barely got any sleep last night at all. . . and it’s been like two or three hours since we left Dream. . .

“Uhmm, I’ll go check on Dream, huh?” I state, being forced to raise my voice slightly to get over the thunderous sound of the rain that’s beating down on my roof now.

“Yeah you should, George, and if he’s awake then check his temperature and see if it’s gone down at all.”

I nod and head down the hallway, halting briefly as I hear faint coughing from inside Dream’s room. Anxiety spikes through my chest and I hastily open his door and my heart drops as I realise the bed is empty. “Dream?” I yelp, and a noise to my left makes me start.

Dream’s standing – or rather leaning – against the bathroom door, shivering and as white as a sheet. Cold sweat drips down his face. He looks only semiconscious as he takes a swaying step forward, resting his head against the wall before glancing up at me, eyes glazed with pain and fever.

What was he doing up ohh God he looks like he’s about to pass out oh shit what do it do???

I jump forward, grabbing his arm and trying to steady him while at the same time calling out to Bad and Sapnap to come help. Dream sags down into my arms and nearly collapses as I carefully half-carry him to the bed. “D-Dream?What’s wrong? C-can you say something, please?”

Shaking like a leaf, Dream reaches feebly for the blankets. “Mhm cold. . .” he mumbles, I only now just register how he’s literally burning to the touch, damp heat radiating off him as he leans against my arm. “. . . mom please lemme sleep?”

Mum??? Oh this is not good. He just called me mum. . . oh my g-

The door swings open and the others enter. Bad gasps and is instantly by Dream’s side, placing a hand on his forehead and recoiling in shock. “Sapnap, the thermometer now.” he says sharply. He slides it into Dream’s mouth.

Dream moans and wraps his arms loosely around his stomach, still trembling.

The thermometer beeps and Bad draws it out quickly.

Sapnap leans forward to see the reading. “40°.” he breathes in horror. “George- that’s 104 degrees.”

“Fuck. . .” I whisper.

Bad leans down to Dream, lightly brushing his blond, sweat-tousled hair back from his face. “Dream, can you say something please? Tell us how you feel?”

Frowning sluggishly, Dream stares for a moment at Bad. “B-Bad? ‘m sorry. . . s’ sorry Bad. . .”

I give a small sigh of relief. He recognises us oh thank God.

He gives rasping cough, sounding more and more delirious. “Was sick- I couldn’t h’lp it. . . ‘m sorry.”

“Hey hey that’s not your fault Dream, alright?” Bad reassures him affectionately. “Why are you sorry? You’ve done nothing, okay?”

Eyelids drooping, Dream gives a muffled, heart-wrenching sob. “S-sorry. . . ‘m not g-good enough. . . ” he slurs, clutching his head in his hands. “’m burden and being useless. . a m-monster. ‘m a horrible person. . . reallly h’rts, why d’ I hurt all ov’r?” he murmurs half-heartedly.

“You’ve just got a really high fever, you gotta rest.” Bad replies, purposefully ignoring Dream’s negative remarks. “Please, you muffinhead? Drink some water and lie down.” he presses a glass to Dream’s mouth, and he takes half a sip before screwing his face up and pulling away. Bad sighs in worried disappointment, before looking up at us. “I wonder- guys, should we take him to the hospital?”

At once Dream pulls away and shakes his head feverishly, violent shivers racking his exhausted frame. “N-no d-don’t take m-me t-to hospital please Bad please n-no I can’t-” he rambles, tears of desperation glistening in his bright green eyes as he turns his gaze to me. “George don’ let m’ go b-back th-there please? S-Sapnap?”

Bad is almost equally as distressed. “Aww Dream- don’t be upset! we probably should go, you’re really sick. . .”

“Nonono please I d-don’t wanna- ‘m s’rry. . .” begs Dream, beginning to hyperventilate, chest heaving shakily for air. “N-not there again p-please G’rge?”

Both Sapnap and Bad turn to me, as if asking for my decision. I feel my heart racing as I look from the scared, semi-delirious Dream to the pale, concerned faces of my friends. I don’t want to make a choice. It’s probably gonna be the wrong one. I don’t want to upset Dream any more than he already is.

Bad reaches over to gently stroke Dream’s arm and try to calm him down. He flinches away from his touch. Bad stares at me anxiously, waiting.

I’m not in charge, why should I decide? I think, before instantly kicking myself inwardly. Stupid moron. It’s your house, your BEST FRIEND who’s sick. Of course you’re gonna choose. You can’t expect Bad to do everything for you, idiot. He’s only human. You saw how distraught he was earlier, he and Sapnap have both been through the same things as you and you’re expecting them to take charge.

Do it yourself you total idiot. Make a decision.

Head pounding, I stuff my fists into my pocket. “It’s okay Dream,” I say, slowly and deliberately so his fever-dulled mind can understand, “You’re gonna stay right here.”

Dream gives a half sobbing exhale of relief. I look at the others, fully expecting to see annoyance and disapproval in their eyes at my decision but instead I see gratitude.

Although I still feel the need to explain my reasoning. “It’s still stormy. Also- you know how dumb the- the fans can be sometimes- they’ll all be on the lookout for us now. Plus Dream’s in no condition to go in an ambulance or anything, and he’d probably freak out.” They agree, somewhat to my surprise. Then I lower my voice. “But if his temperature gets any higher-”

“You’re n-not goin’? Don’ go George please st-stay w’th me.” Dream murmurs.

“I will.” I promise as Sapnap takes some of the fever meds from the packet and hands them to Dream, who stares dazedly at the pills for several seconds before he works out that he’s supposed to take them.

“Okay Dream, if you’re gonna stay here we need to put a nice, warm, dry hoodie on you, alright?” Bad whispers soothingly as he grabs a wet cloth and wipes Dream’s forehead, speaking quietly if he is talking to a very young, sick kid. “You’ll be okay. George, do you have one you can spare?”

In response I turn and open a set of drawers in the corner of the room. I store a bunch of clean jumpers and shirts I wore like, once - for a stream to plug my new merch - and then put away and forgot about. I pull out the classic grey GNF hoodie with my name on it, and pass it to Bad.

Dream is clearly incapable of sitting up on his own, his head droops heavily as Bad attempts to hold him semi-upright. “S’ tired. . .” Dream mutters dizzily, unable to keep his eyes open.

“Hey buddy just give us a moment and you can sleep - George, I’ll hold him up and can you put the new hoodie on him?”

I hesitate, immediately feeling awkward for a reason I cannot place. I am usually good around sick people, but this is Dream. My best friend. It’s different. He’s different. But after glancing at an even more uncomfortable Sapnap I know for a fact he’s terrible in this kind of situation, I once again am struck by annoyance at my own selfish thoughts. Of course I’m gonna help and nobody else should have to. It’s my duty.

“Sure.” I step forward, and with care I slowly tug Dream’s hoodie off. He whimpers and shudders uncontrollably as I quickly strip his sweat-soaked t-shirt off then pull the fresh hoodie over his head and guide his arms through the sleeves.

Bad tucks Dream into bed again. “There you are Dream – now you can lie down again. Feel any better?”

Snuggling down under the blankets, Dream mumbles something in reply and is almost instantly asleep. None of us quite know what to make of the situation. Bad gets rather shakily to his feet, and looks at us both. I can’t meet his gaze, instead I stare down at Dream as Bad clears his throat. “I- I’m gonna go make us some lunch n-now. . . George can y-you stay with him?”

I give a short nod and the others leave the room. As I reach over to pull the covers further over Dream, his feverishly warm hand slips out and latches onto my cold damp one. A small smile crosses my face as his eyelids flicker open for the briefest second and he gives me a childlike look of total trust and gratitude.

I swallow nervously as he drifts off again, he’s once more twitching and mumbling in his sleep but he’s still got a firm grasp on my hand. I still can’t really believe what’s just happened, the reality of our last stream kind of feels like a blur to me right now. I only hope that Dream doesn’t get any worse and I can live up to his expectations and be the person he needs me to be.

God knows I’m trying but I’m not sure if I’m any good at it.

TBC. . .

So I have a question!  Since my basic plans for the next chapters are already made,

Would you prefer to see Dream's fever get worse, or for it to take a turn for the better and him to begin his recovery?

It won't make an impact on how the book ends (yes we're getting close to the end lol), so I'm asking you guys!

More of our poor sick muffin Dream, or his fever finally breaking? Comment below!!!

And please subscribe! :)

Baiiiii!!!

Chapter Text

So I've been reading all your comments :D 

And the majority of you wanted him to get worse. To be honest, so did I lol. A nd there were a few of you who didn't mind, and some who wanted him to get better. 

So I've written what i hope all of you will enjoy! It's the longest chapter of the book, 4K+ words and it took me an extra week but here you go! Also i wrote it all platonically and friendship is the best ship don't try change my mind eheheh

(usual disclaimer i'm not a doctor or whatever so etc etc just enjoy ;) it's the story that counts, right? :)

It’s been about an hour since we did the livestream discussing the recent drama and its consequences.

The entire platforms of Youtube, Twitch, and most of all Twitter are in complete and utter disarray. The person who leaked that image – it makes me shudder, just thinking about it – has been massively blocked and reported. As I scroll reluctantly through the feed, I still see a lot of hate but it has been totally overwhelmed by support and goodwill from our fans all over the world. #TeamDreamSupport is number one trending everywhere. After seeing a few of the tweets, I can feel a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

I swallow, tears threatening to make an appearance as I read some of the beautiful, encouraging comments people have made. I’m not usually an emotional person, but I was so nervous as to how people would react to our stream that this is such a relief. I’d probably be crying to myself if my friends weren’t just across the room from me, making lunch. I flick aimlessly between tabs, somewhat torn between feeling relieved at the fanbase’s acceptance of our story and being worried about Dream, who is still sick and asleep in the other room with a raging fever. Compared to that, the fact that his face was nearly leaked and his panic caused by it is almost the least of our problems.

Yeah. Not a great situation to be in. Things could be definitely be better.

My phone suddenly vibrates, and my screen displays an image of Tommy’s face. I hesitate briefly before answering the call. “Hello?”

“GEORGE OHHH MY GOD GEORGE ARE- ARE YOU GUYS ALRIGHT?? God it’s been like a WEEK,” Tommy pauses for breath, agitatedly running a hand through his hair as Tubbo sits quietly behind him, leaning forward to hear every word and letting Tommy do the talking.

I wince, feeling instant regret as I see the amount of concern and worry on their faces.

“You look like sh*t George, h-how’s Dream? Is he okay? We’ve all been so worried ohhh God you didn’t reply and-”

“I’m really sorry- I- we got- I forgot, and then we thought it would be best to go live and explain everything- I didn’t know what to do. . . ” I falter, hating how pitiful my excuses sound. “Dream is- not good. At least, he’s not improved since the stream.”

Tommy slumps back and Tubbo sighs. “Is there anything we can do to help, king?” asks Tubbo, anxiously rocking back and forward on his chair. “We could bring stuff if you needed it.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay, uhh – we’ll be fine. But would you mind telling the- the others I’m sorry? I just don’t think I can talk to them now, could you explain?”

“Of course big man, I’ll let them know.” Tommy agrees, sympathy obvious in his tone, “I’m sure they’ll understand. Make sure to get some sleep, huh?”

We talk for a few more minutes, before they end the call. I wish I could get rid of this numb feeling that is creeping into my thoughts and actions. It’s like I’m being paralysed by worry.

Bad calls me to the table - he has made sandwiches for us all. We eat them in relative silence.

“Is it always this dark here, George?” Bad queries, and I look around. It is very dark, the heavy storm clouds outside that are still bucketing down rain are causing the room to be unusually dim. I never notice, I normally have the lights on all day. I inform Bad of this and he gets up and switches a light on without another word.

As we finish lunch, Bad pulls out his phone and his face falls as he looks at the screen. “The weather report is saying there’s gonna be wind and possibly hail.”

I somehow already expected that things were going to get worse.

“I think I’m gonna go down to the shops now and buy some more meds and stuff for Dream,” Bad states, getting up from the table. “before this storm gets any bigger. We’re nearly used them up. I’ll try to be quick, but you guys are gonna have to keep a close eye on Dream while I’m gone.”

“Of course we will, nimrod.” Sapnap says lightly, attempting to brighten the mood a little. It didn’t really work, but we’re both grateful that he tried.

Then Bad leaves, catching a taxi that was luckily just passing our house. I feel a gnawing feeling of apprehension growing in my gut, but I just put it down to fact I was watching one of my friends climb into a taxi. I don’t think I ever really want to ride in one again.

I go back inside first and peer in on Dream, who is tossing and turning feverishly, mumbling fairly loudly and incoherently to himself. I can make out a few words – no not the h’spital. . . please. . .monster. . .n’ good enough. . . white walls. . . too many. . . ‘m trapped. . .

Someone taps me on the shoulder and I flinch, suddenly seeing Sapnap standing behind me. “Sorry,” he says apologetically, “is he alright?”

I shrug uneasily. “Ehh, I don’t think he’s any worse. . . yet”

Sapnap sighs deeply and turns away. “Wanna watch a movie or something? While we- wait?” he asks, sitting down heavily on the couch and fumbling with the remotes.

I watch him for a few seconds before joining him. “Yeah, sure.” I reply, casting a concerned glance towards Dream’s room. I suppose I’ll still be able to hear him if anything goes wrong – I’ll check on him again in like ten minutes.

We put a show on, and I find myself having difficulty keeping myself awake. My eyes just want to close of their own accord.

I’m so tired. . . barely slept last night. . . just a few seconds of sleep. . .

I’m jolted awake by that odd falling sensation you get when almost asleep. I personally hate the feeling. Sapnap is nodding beside me, and I’m about to let myself drift off again when I notice how quiet it is.

So quiet.

I can’t even hear Dream’s delirious rambling from his bedroom.

Dread begins to crawl through my veins as I get unsteadily to my feet and push his door open. I flick the lamp on beside the bed. Dream has the blankets tugged tightly over his head so I pull the covers back slightly, and Dream moans softly. The amount of heat his sick body is emitting is shocking. Dream is curled in a tiny, quivering ball, shivering so hard that it’s making the bed move.

“Dream?” I reach out and touch his forehead, instantly alarmed and horrified by his temperature. He’s burning up. “Dream!”

“Mhm. . .?”

Yep, as predicted. Things are much worse. I don’t really know what to do in this situation.

“Dream – can you hear me?” I ask him, only for him to try bury his head under the blanket again.

“Wasn’ listenin’. . .”

What??? I wouldn’t say I’m panicking, but I’m pretty close to it and would very much like to.

“Dream please, can you tell me how you feel?”

“. . . ‘m cold. . .” he complains sluggishly, rolling over on his back, hair unkempt and damp from sweat, cheeks flushed vividly red. I pull the blanket away further and he blinks reproachfully, eyes hazy with feverish brightness. “G’rge? Why’re you h’re?”

I try to ignore how fast my heart is racing. “Dream, you’re at my place, remember?”

There is a long pause while Dream stares at me, frowning with dazed concentration. “Nah. . . ‘m at home- why’re you here?” he mutters questioningly again, before reclosing his eyes and shuddering. “T’rn it off. . .”

“Turn what off?” I respond, edging towards the door. I’ve gotta get Sapnap in here, we need to do something.

Dream gives a weak huff of frustration. “Th’ fan, ’s too loud.”

He is completely out of it. “There isn’t any fan on, Dream.” I say, and Dream exhales heavily in disbelief and murmurs to himself.

“Th’re’s a fan. . .”

The only other sound I’m aware of is the rain lashing down on the roof. “Sapnap?” I hiss loudly, hoping not to disturb Dream too much.

Sapnap’s face peeks blearily over the back of the couch. He yawns. “What’sup?”

“Dream’s worse.”

That wakes Sapnap up much faster than anything else I could have said. I quickly explain what happened as he comes over to Dream and after a moment, he looks around for the thermometer. “Dream buddy, can you sit up a little?” he asks him and then turns to me. “Fill the glass with water, huh?”

I obey as Sapnap has to literally haul a reluctant, limp Dream into a half-sitting position against the pillows, the absence of blankets causing him another bout of violent shivering. We get him to shakily drink a few sips of water, before Sapnap gently puts the thermometer in Dream’s mouth.

We’re both concerned by the glazed, dizzy look in Dream’s eyes as his gaze wanders around the room, finally resting on us. “Wha’s goin’ on?” He mumbles at us around a mouthful of thermometer.

“We’re just checking your temperature, okay? You’ve got a bad fever.”

“. . . oh-”

The device beeps and Sapnap reads the number with a sharp inhale. “104.3°.”

Thunder crashes outside again but Dream just stares vacantly at the ceiling, blinking with slow deliberation. Sapnap powers on his phone and hastily keys something into the search bar.

I watch Dream’s feverish, confused look as he attempts to work out where he is. “God, I wish Bad were here. Can we take him to the hospital?” I say in a low voice, but it wasn’t quiet enough.

Dream’s eyes widen in fear and his breathing hitches. “N-no not- n-not there p-please!” he chokes out, tears glistening on his flushed cheeks. “I can’t go b-back-” he gasps, slumping down from exhaustion. He’s clearly terrified of the idea but in his fever-ridden state he lacks the energy to resist. Giving a weak sob, he feebly attempts to draw the covers back up over his torso and then seems to fall asleep from the effort.

Sapnap looks up from the phone. “We could try the shower?” he half-whispers, anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

I gulp nervously. I’ve heard of people doing that kind of thing but never thought I’d have to. “We could.”

I certainly don’t want to turn up at a hospital with Dream in full panic. It won’t help the situation in the slightest.

“Alright. We’ll do it.”

“Should we ring Bad first?”

“No time. We really need to do this now. We can call him later, but he should be back soon anyway.”

“Okay.” I agree and Sapnap directs me around the other side of the bed, where I slip my arm around Dream’s back and prepare to lift him up with Sapnap’s help.

Dream’s eyelids flicker open, and but there’s pretty much no recognition in his glassy green eyes. “Fan’s stopped.” he states almost unintelligibly, and vaguely I realise the rain has died down a little.

Sapnap manoeuvres him until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Trembling, Dream listlessly gives him a look of reproval. “St’ll cold. . . ‘re you cold?” he tries, half-heartedly glancing around for a blanket.

“Shhh Dream. It’s alright.”

We go to lift him up but as we do so, his legs buckle and he collapses against us with a moan, forcing us to lower him back onto the bed.

Even though he’s probably far too skinny than he should be, he’s still 6’3 and that’s no easy weight to carry.

Dream groans again in pain. And I have realise something that should have been obvious under different circumstances. “Sapnap – we can’t get water on his casts. We’ll have to cover them with a plastic bag or something.”

“Ohh yeah- Dream, we’re gonna take you to the bathroom now, alright?”

Dream shudders and hums softly in reply, swaying dizzily as we once again haul him to his feet. We pull his arms over our shoulders and begin a slow, agonising journey towards the shower. Dream does nothing to protest, but refuses to put any weight at all on his broken ankle and leans completely on us. That doesn’t make our job any easier.

He continues to mumble fever-induced gibberish as we make our way into the bathroom, where he sinks down onto a wooden stool and gingerly traces his finger across the cold tiled walls.

“Why’sthere ice h’re?” he asks thickly as I pull his sweat-sodden hoodie off over his head, causing more uncontrollable shivers to wrack his whole body. “S’cold. . .”

“You’ll be okay Dream. We’re gonna put you in shower, huh?”

There is a painfully long pause as his febrile mind endeavours to understand my words.

“What?” he finally responds.

Great. The fever’s totally messed with his brain now, he’s basically delirious and I don’t know how he’s gonna cope with being put under a tepid shower. I take a deep breath as my throat tightens with lingering uncertainty. “Dream, w-”

“George? I’ll finish that, can you go get some towels?” Sapnap interrupts, moving forward to help. “And those plastic bags.”

I make a hurried exit, headache already starting to form behind my temples. I stand staring at the cupboard full of linen for a moment, scrubbing my hands over my face. Then I snatch up about three or four towels from the shelf, along with two bags and head back to the bathroom, where Sapnap has now stripped Dream to his boxers. A pile of his dirty, perspiration-soaked clothes has been kicked into the corner.

As I walk past Dream, he makes a feeble swipe at the towels in an attempt to grab one, teeth chattering from cold. I unwillingly hold them out of his reach. “No, Dream. . . I’m sorry. Not yet.” I reprimand gently, aiding Sapnap in tying the bags carefully around his casts.

Dream gives me a weak glare but doesn’t say anything, instead he drops his head into his unrestrained hand. “’m feel sick. . ” he moans miserably.

Sapnap and I exchange rather scared looks. That is something both of us neither need nor want to have to deal with right now and quickly I turn the tap on, holding my hand under the stream until the water is a little over lukewarm. Thank goodness he hasn’t had anything to eat since he was sick earlier this morning.

“Alright,” I say, and after a moment’s thought I pull my hoodie off so I’m only wearing a t-shirt. I’m more than likely gonna get wet. But it’s for the best, if it brings Dream’s temperature down even by a few degrees then it will be worth it. “Sapnap, c’mon.”

He lifts Dream’s arm up over his shoulder and helps him ‘stand’. I shift the stool into the shower, because firstly, Dream won’t be able to stand on his own in there, and secondly there is barely enough room for someone to be in there to assist him.

Dream looks pale and disoriented at the movement around him, murmuring something unhappily under his breath. “Wanna g’ home.” he whimpers, letting a tear trickle down his face as he makes no effort to resist Sapnap easing him into the shower.

“Heyyy Dream. . . you’re okay dude.” Sapnap reassures him as the first drops began hitting his skin.

Dream begins shivering violently, staring as if mesmerised at the water swirls down into the drain and sobbing quietly. “S-so cold. . . it’s a snowst’rm- G’rge? Th’ fan’s on ‘gain. Lemme go. . . s’tired-” My heart twists with pity as I listen to him ramble and rant on, sounding more and more upset as time passed. “Sa’nap please - wanna go back t’ bed. Turn th’ rain off.” he pleads softly as I steadily pat his back, which seems to calm him a bit. “It hurts. . .”

“You’re gonna be fine Dream.” I try to console him by distracting him, ignoring the spray of water that is rebounding from his shoulders onto me. “You’re sick, so we put you in here so you’ll feel better, okay? Trust me. I’m right here. . .”

Sapnap goes and gets me a chair and he sits on the closed toilet lid, occasionally chiming in with a comforting remark. And gradually, as we talk, Dream’s trembling begins to subside and his bewildered crying becomes more subdued until he’s silently leaning against my shoulder with his eyes shut. The only visible movement is his chest faintly rising and falling. To all appearances, he’s asleep, water droplets mingling with the salty tears on his flushed, freckled cheeks.

At length, Sapnap and I stop talking. I’m still rhythmically stroking his back. The shower drums steadily over us. My thoughts and emotions are in a whirl, we’ve been sitting here for ages.

This has gotta work. I promised I’d be there to help. I don’t want to be forced to take Dream to the hospital. He’d never forgive me-

Eventually, Dream stirs and gives a weak groan, slowly lifting his head and letting his gaze drift confusedly over the room.

“Dream?” I say, alerting an almost-asleep Sapnap, who immediately gets up and comes over. “You with us?”

“How do you feel?”

Our friend merely blinks owlishly at us as water drips down into his eyes. For a moment I begin to wonder if he’s still delirious, and that the shower has failed in its use. That I’ve failed to help him. Then he frowns.

“George?” he rasps, voice sounding completely awful. “Why’m I in the shower?”

Relief floods my entire body and I let out a breath I didn’t think I’d been holding so long. He’s back. His voice sounds rough and hoarse but it’s Dream’s, not the small, feverish child we were looking after before. Dream’s back. He’s okay. . .

“Your fever was too high- we had to get it down.” I explain. “You’re really sick.”

Dream exhales tiredly. “Seems ‘bout right. . .” he sighs, shivering slightly. Sapnap hands me a thermometer, and I hold it up so Dream can see it before I put it in his mouth.

When I read out the lowered temperature, Sapnap looks overwhelmingly relieved. I imagine my expression is about the same. “It says 102.2°,” I let them know, before converting it into Celsius so I can understand it. “Thirty-nine degrees.”

I think Sapnap would have given us both a hug had we not been dripping wet.

“C’n I get outta th’ shower?” Dream asks plaintively, lethargically rubbing his eyes. He’s gone really pale. “Don’ wanna stay h’re.”

“Sure.” I reply, also keen to get out of this uncomfortable position. My legs are cramped and numb from sitting like this. Getting up, I turn the shower off and drape a towel around Dream’s shoulders. Then we try to help him up, which doesn’t exactly go to plan as Dream almost immediately collapses again and nearly causes me to overbalance on the slippery floor. Sapnap gives a snort of amusement as he grabs Dream’s arm and guides him out of the shower, sitting him down on my chair.

“George you weakling.” he teases lightheartedly, and I don’t even mind the insult. The gloom we were feeling before has almost dissipated and I don’t care what that idiot of a Sapnap says, as long as he’s happy.

Dream trembles from cold as Sapnap dries him off. “Wanna go back t’ bed. Don’ like being wet. . .” he mumbles as I leave for the second time that day to find him some warm clean clothes for both Dream and me. I’m drenched, it’s a good thing I took my hoodie off earlier. I quickly change.

When I get back, I toss the spare clothing to Sapnap. “Here. You do it. I got soaked for the cause, your turn to do something.”

Sapnap good-humorously accepts my argument and swiftly dresses Dream in the new outfit – yet another blue GNF hoodie and some warm tracksuit pants. Lucky I have a lot of them lying around. Dream allows us to do with him what we want, he’s basically powerless to resist anyway.

As we prepare to take him back to the bedroom, Sapnap halts. “His bed is gonna be all damp and sweaty and filthy, and he’s all clean.” he argues as Dream lets his head rests against snugly against my shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes open. “We don’t wanna take him back there.”

“How about the couch?” I suggest, remembering it will fold out and make a bed.

Sapnap nods. “Dream, we’re gonna put you on the couch, alright?”

“M’kay. . . s’fine.” he whispers, and we carefully help him limp out to the lounge-room. There Sapnap tries to hold him up properly on his own while I look around on the sofa to find the button to extend it.

“God you’re heavy Dream.” Sapnap grunts as he struggles to hold Dream steady, who’s a good several inches taller than both of us and making no effort to support himself. Dream seems more likely to pass out the longer we have him upright, so I frantically scramble for the lever and the couch folds out.

I grab a blanket and quickly spread it out as Dream drops down onto it, giving a quiet moan of gratitude. He rolls onto his side and curls up, abruptly scaring us by giving two muffled sneezes while we find another blanket to cover him with.

All of a sudden my head feels extremely dizzy, and I’m forced to sit rather suddenly down on the couch beside Dream. The adrenaline that has kept me going these past few hours has totally worn off, and all the anxiety and emotions and stress it was masking has made a very hasty reappearance. Sapnap gives me a look of concern but I brush him off. I’ll be fine. I’m okay. Dream’s okay. We helped him. I helped him. Things will be alright. It’s alright.

Then my mind starts repeating these same words over and over again and I realise I desperately need sleep. It’s been days since I felt fully rested, and judging from the dark circles under both Dream and Sapnap’s eyes, I can’t look any better.

We check Dream’s temperature one more time. It’s gone up by about point one of a degree, but it seems stable and not likely to move.

“G’rge?” he mutters, eyes closed and still trembling slightly. “Ca’ you tun th’ fan off?”

My heart sinks as I stare at him in disbelief. It’s not even raining much anymore. “What do you mean?” I ask tentatively, an uneasy feeling beginning to settle in my stomach.

Dream manages to open his eyes, tiredly gazing at the roof. “Th’ fan. S’ on. Too cold.” he gets out, and I slump back with a shaky laugh. Of course, the living-room fan is actually on. He isn’t talking about the rain now. He’s not delirious anymore.

Sapnap turns it off for me and then sits down beside Dream, whose slightly rattling, wheezing breaths are now for the most part steady and even.

It’s so warm, sitting next to Dream’s feverishly overheated body. He shifts over and sleepily cuddles up against both me and Sapnap for heat, and honestly, I’m so tired I don’t care what dumb remarks Sapnap might want to make about me and my best friend.

I let Dream snuggle into my arm and I give Sapnap a small shrug. But to my mild surprise he doesn’t even raise an eyebrow or give me one of his smug grins. Instead he just lies down as well, nestling up with us in what my exhausted brain decides to dub a “Dream Team Cuddle.” He’s snoring almost as soon as his head hits the cushion.

The last thing I recall thinking before sleep drags me under is hell do we have a story to tell Bad when he gets back. . .

The next time I half-wake, I can hear the front door opening and footsteps tapping down the hall. Bad’s quiet voice calls my name and then Sapnap’s but I don’t want to answer. I’m too tired and comfortable and warm. I haven’t felt this safe and warm and happy since before the accident. It’s been so long. . . I keep my eyes firmly closed in hopes of holding on to this wonderful feeling and faintly wonder why he’s so late.

Bad approaches the couch and through a haze of heat and sleep I see him gently brush Dream’s hair back and feel his forehead. He gives a soft chuckle at the three of us and I manage to give him a weak smile in return before everything goes black.

TBC. . .

Ahhh i'm a little nervous to know what you thought! I think i like how this one came out, it was fun to write! 

I really hope you guys did enjoy it, let me know your thoughts pleaseee :)

Love ya - Flecka

Chapter Text

*shamefacedly creeps out of room and hands my poor readers this long overdue chapter*

i haven't forgotten you all i swear pls bear with me :) <3

When I finally open my eyes, it’s late evening. The rain is quietly pattering on the roof, and from where I lie I can see the trees outside gently swaying in the breeze. Bad is half-sitting, half-lying on the couch opposite us, reading a book.

I give a sigh of contentment and shift over onto my other shoulder so as to see how Dream is doing. He is flushed and still feels a little too warm but looks comfortable.

“He’s already woken up once George.” Bad supplies helpfully and I turn to look at him. “I gave him some soup and checked his temperature, it’s going down, thank goodness. But he’s been sleep-talking a lot.”

I rub my eyes and sit up. “Bad?” my voice sounds a little hoarse, so I clear my throat and accept the glass of water Bad’s offering me. “Where have you been? How long have we been asleep?”

Bad gives a small apologetic grin. “Oh, it’s been like two, maybe three hours. How come you’re all out here? Dream should be in bed.”

Slumping back, I exhale heavily. “It’s a long story. Dream’s temperature got really high not long after you left, and we didn’t have time to call you. Sapnap and I decided to take him to the shower to get his fever down, and yeah. It worked, I guess.” I explain, trying to make it short and simple. It’s not something I want to keep thinking about and I can give him more details later if he needs them. “Then Sapnap mentioned Dream’s bed would be all messed up and Dream wanted to lie down so we made the couch up.”

Bad gapes at me. “Oh my goodness – I’m so sorry I wasn’t hear to help! You must have been exhausted, both of you!”

“Yeah. . . at least I had Sapnap.”

Sapnap stirs at the mention of his name. “Ev’ning, Bad.” he grumbles, sitting up and blinking around. “You took your time. Left us to cope alone.”

“Well I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to take that long.” Bad says earnestly. “There was a lot of traffic and especially because of the rain. Then I sort-of got kinda lost in the shopping centre. I’m sorry. . . but from what George was telling me, you managed pretty well!”

With a roll of his eyes Sapnap gets up. “Is Dream alright now?” he asks irritably. I’ve noticed over these past few weeks that Sapnap is not the most cheerful person when he has just woken up.

Bad nods. “I think he’s gonna be okay.” he replies, beaming. “He was awake before you two, and he had a bit of soup.”

“What have you been doing?” I question him as I get to my feet and head over to the pantry to look for some food. I’ve just realised I’m actually starving since I haven’t had anything to eat since early this morning before the stream and it’s now past four o’clock.

“I’ve been uhh, reading and looking at Twitter- just to see what the reaction was and such.” Bad adds hastily.

My gut twists anxiously at the mention of Twitter. I snatch a packet of crackers from a somewhat dusty shelf and sit back down on the couch, passing the crackers to Sapnap after I grab a handful. Gosh, I’m still so tired. “What- what are they saying?” I wince at how nervous I sound.

Bad chews his lip. “It’s kinda mixed, to be honest. But I’d say the majority of them are on our side. There are a lot of people who are mad at you for ‘lying’, but it’s okay – because we did what we had to do. Did you know you had over 900 thousand concurrent viewers during your stream?”

“What?” My heart starts racing as I take in that information. I’ve never had even close to that many before. For some reason, the realisation that I was talking to almost a million people on a livestream just makes me feel – really odd. I don’t know what I feel. Nervous, uneasy, relieved that so many people are on side? Just exhausted. . .

Sapnap hasn’t said a word in a while and when I look over at him I see he’s fallen asleep again. I turn back to Bad. “So – our stream – it worked?”

With a sincere smile, Bad reaches over and gives me a sudden hug. I think I saw tears glistening in his eyes. “I think it did, George. I think it did!”

I return the hug tightly, and I really mean it. A familiar sensation of gratitude washes over, I’d be nowhere without Bad – the voice of reason and knowledge and sympathy. Or the down-to-earth, practical Sapnap who sometimes stays calm when I’m not.

Or Dream – the creative, clever, wise, loyal, young friend who’s always been by my side when things are tough and I’m struggling. I’d be nowhere without him.

I wish I could be as good a friend to him as he’s been to me. . . maybe I am being one now if he’s on the mend?

A quiet sneeze sounds behind me, followed by a sniffle and a soft moan. I whirl around to see Dream scrubbing a hand over his still-flushed face how is it possible for someone’s cheeks to be flushed red and still be really pale. He blinks sleepily at me and gives a small smile it’s very small, but it’s still a smile. “Hey, George.” he mumbles, pulling the blankets away from Sapnap and onto himself.

“Hey. How do you feel?” I ask quietly, returning the smile. He’s awake and coherent. That’s a good sign.

Dream is silent for a moment, before yawning. “Tired. What’re you all doing?” he responds as Bad gently puts a thermometer in his mouth.

“Other than being worried about you, muffinhead, not a lot. It’s down to 101.1°, thank goodness Dream.” Bad says in a pleased voice.

Dream just coughs wearily and nods. He looks completely worn out. “I think ‘m gonna go back t’ sleep.” he sighs, burrowing down into the pillow. “G’night, guys.”

“Night Dream.” Bad and I both reply in unison. Bad looks at his watch, and shrugs. “Why don’t we all have an early night?” he whispers, so as not to disturb the already sleeping Dream and Sapnap.

I’m fully on board with that idea. It might only be like, 5pm or something but we’re all exhausted. I glance across at my phone, torn between wanting to use it and never seeing it again. It’s unusual for me to have gone this long without being online. I’ll reply to Tommy and the rest of them tomorrow. . . I think to myself as I lie down again. If I shuffle over, there’s just enough room for Bad to squeeze in beside me. He does that and now it’s the ‘Four Muffinteers Sleepover Huggle’.

Soon I’m surrounded by quiet, even breaths from Bad, the soft sound of snoring from Sapnap, and Dream’s congested breathing and near constant, mumbled sleep-talking. A smile creeps over my face as I hear what he murmured.

“Love you too, Dream.” I whisper, before drifting off.

The next morning, we all wake up at around the same time – except for Dream, who’s sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. None of us wake him, instead we go about a usual morning routine, Bad makes breakfast, I make some tea and coffee, and Sapnap roughly tidies up the living room. It’s a calm, breezy morning, with some rare sunlight penetrating through the clouds.

As we sit around on the couches, quietly watching the latest news on TV, I realise I haven’t felt this relaxed in forever.

Again, Dream’s awakened by loudly sneezing. He groans and reaches a hand to his head, wincing as hesitates a moment before shoves himself into a sitting position and pulling the blankets up with him. “Ow, gosh-”

Bad happily greets him. “Good morning Dream- do you feel okay? Want anything to eat? Or drink? You’ve been asleep for like, nearly 14 hours!”

Dream grimaces. “I wasn’ asleep the entire time. I did wake up a few times.” he replies to Bad’s onslaught of questions. He looks like he’s about to refuse Bad’s offer of a meal when he relents and accepts a cup of tea, which he ends up only drinking half of. “The fans’d go crazy if they saw this right now.” Dream remarks jokingly when he notices the blue GNF hoodie he’s wearing, although he did look a little bewildered as to how it got on him.

“How do you feel?” I ask him, when Sapnap and Bad are both over the other side of the room, half-arguing over something in the kitchen.

Looking thoughtful, Dream shrugs. “I’ve felt better but I’m okay. A bit dizzy though, and this dumb headache won’t go away.”

I nod sympathetically. “Well, considering how delirious you were only yesterday, I’d say you’re lucky that’s your biggest problem right now.”

Dream frowns and looks down at his hands. “I don’t- don’t really remember. . .” he says uncertainly, picking at his cast. “Was I- was it that bad?”

“Your temperature was forty point one, or 104.3° as you’d understand, so yeah, I’d say that was pretty serious.”

“Oh- I guess so. George- what happened before that?” Dream asks reluctantly. “It all seems like a painful, confusing blur. I’ve forgotten.”

It’s my turn to frown. “How far back do you remember?” This is it, isn’t it? Now I have to explain the whole leaked image, the panic attack, the fact he was already unwell before the drama, and the livestream that we did without him. . . I don’t know if he can handle it yet I think, as I watch Dream concentrate on recalling what he can. Maybe I can just brush over it like it was easy and simple to deal with. . . I don’t know-

“There was an image, wasn’t there?” Dream queries, voice a little unsteady. “S-so they’ve seen me?”

I hurriedly reassure him with an emphatic no. “It’s alright, they haven’t! The image was kinda fuzzy, and I was the only one they could see properly. And it was taken from a distance, so no, it’s fine -” I fumble over my words in my haste to pacify him, and he gives me a small grin even though he still looks worried.

“It’s alright George, I’m not about to panic now- I think.” he quips humourously, and fiddles uneasily with the tag of the blanket. “I- I imagine you’ve dealt with it somehow?”

“Of course – we did our best. We decided to uhh, stream and let everyone know what was going on – because people were going crazy after the l-leak.” I reply, glad Dream’s taking this so calmly. For now, at least. To be honest, I think he’s not reacting too much because he seems so tired and worn out – he doesn’t have the energy to get all worked up about it.

“Stream?” Dream questions, looking slightly alarmed before anger flickers across his features but before I have time to be confused, his expression changes again to one of miserableness “Wh-what did you tell them?”

I swallow, wondering how to respond. “Almost everything.” I say, and Dream visibly flinches. I’m not entirely sure why. “Nothing too personal – don’t worry, I only told them that you weren’t well, and sort of explained a few things to them – Sapnap asked them to get rid of the person who leaked the photo, it’s gone now.”

Staring down at his slightly shaking hands again, Dream seems to be struggling with mixed emotions. After a while, he glances across at Sapnap and Bad in the kitchen. An apologetic look crosses his face. “I’m sorry for panicking and causing so much trouble for you all- leaving you all to cope with my problems- I can’t believe I. . . made myself that sick just over an image.” he says with a bitter laugh.

Once again I forestall him. “No, it’s not your fault – you were already coming down with something before you saw it, and the photo just made it all worse.” I inform him, and he looks a little dubious.

“I think I remember – I felt really tired and achy and sick. I just thought it was because of the meds for these,” Dream indicates to his broken arm and leg, “but yeah. . . I suppose that would be why though. I’m sorry.”

“Uh-huh. Listen up, Dream – none of this is your fault, alright? You gotta understand that. And we’re all here to help you, when you need us. We’re always here. And nobody’s perfect – so don’t start blaming yourself when things go wrong. Everyone has to have some things they have to try hard at, and you can’t do everything.” I tell him, surprising even myself with my words. Then the corner of my mouth lifts. “And you gotta leave something for us to do.”

Dream’s bright green eyes are damp with tears and he just sits in silence for several seconds, unable to reply. Eventually he gives me a watery smile. “I – guess I’ll try to.” he murmurs, slumping back into the cushions.

I realise he’s exhausted now. “Good.” I say, rising. I’m about to go intervene between Bad and Sapnap, when my phone’s shrill ringtone pierces the air. Once again, it’s Tommy calling. And there are a few missed calls as well for me to deal with later, I think unwillingly. But this time, I’m happy that Tommy. Because now, I have good news for him.

“Hey Tommy.” I answer.

“George! How are you doing today? Is Dream doing any better? God I hope he is – I let everyone else know what’s going on, like you asked – and – Tubbo be quiet – How’s Dream?” Tommy fires off a million questions, and I give a small laugh as I hear Tubbo in the background, trying tell him to wait for an answer.

“Dream’s doing alright!” I reply, turning and grinning at Dream, whose albeit tired expression matches my own. “He’s awake and his temperature’s gone down. Do you want to talk to him?”

The pair of them cheer eagerly in affirmation, and at my questioning look at Dream, he nods. I hand the phone to Dream.

“Hello, Tommy.” he says, and is immediately overwhelmed with a barrage of inquiries from the concerned teens.

Chuckling to myself, I go over and break up the heated quarrel between Sapnap and Bad. I don’t even know what they were fighting over – but whatever it was it was dumb and I threaten to make them do the dishes if they don’t stop. Not that that disturbs Bad in the slightest, who says he doesn’t mind washing up. But Sapnap shuts up almost at once and goes over to slouch on the couch, glowering to himself.

It doesn’t really matter too much that he’s cross, within minutes he’s forgotten and is laughing with Dream at Tommy and Tubbo’s very detailed explanation of a vlog idea.

They chatter on and I watch as Dream’s eyes gradually fall closed, before he jolts awake again and furtively glances around and hopes nobody was looking. I pretend I didn’t see anything, and he yawns again – trying desperately not to drift off.

“. . . and then, you know those huge tracks that you can . . . we could get one. . .”

Dream lets his head rest against the pillow and he rubs his eyes. Despite happily listening to their banter, within moments, he’s dozed off.

“. . .not to mention the- Dream? Hey mate, are you there?”

I reach over and pick up the phone, returning Sapnap’s amused look. “Tommy – he’s fallen asleep. You must have bored him with your rambling.” I say facetiously.

Tubbo laughs, as does Tommy. “He’s alright though, huh?” Tubbo asks to clarify.

“Yeah, he’s probably just really tired – yesterday was bad so he needs all the sleep he can get. I’ll tell you about it some other time.” I tell them, loath to relive the anxiety of the previous day right now – just when things are starting to get better.

They agree. “Let the big man know how bad mannered he is when he wakes up.” Tommy says as a joke, and then his voice becomes serious. “Take care, Gogy. Help Dream get well soon, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry.” I promise as they quietly hang up.

I promise I will.

TBC. . .

Welp, i hope you enjoyed! 

This was so late because i got really sick after the last chapter (karma for putting Dream through this fanfic lol), with a fever of  *drumroll* 102.2 degrees! (39 degrees for my English and Aussie fans) XD

Things were definitely lagging for a bit after that eheh but I'm doing alright now! Just really busy with life :)

I didn't really like this chapter (I wrote it while i was still recovering) but ehhh, it's okay i guess :P

But maybe you thought it was good so let me know your opinion down below and please drop a heart/sub/whatever! <3 

byeeeee! :D

Chapter Text

Wow.

You’ve no idea how much courage it took to log back into this account after leaving you all hanging for so long. I’m so sorry for disappearing.

Hallo, everyone :)

So – a lot has happened these last seven months. I got accepted for college next year, went through some really challenging mental issues alone, and managed to drag myself out of my own personal Pandora’s Vault – scarred but still alive and kicking.

I was reading back through Mission Accomplished – I realised it’s been a year since I finished it and promised a sequel. I’m still working on it, I promise ;)

I definitely was in a bit of a dark place while writing MA, as you can probably see reflected in the story lol.

I was busy writing the next book’s first chapters, and preparing notes - then we lost a hero.

Two, in fact – although many of you won’t be familiar with the second. I couldn’t bring myself to write anything for a long time.

Technoblade, rest in peace. You’ll live forever in our hearts and in works that honour your memory.

Also rest easy to TFC, aka TinFoilChef. A wonderful member of Hermitcraft and a true hermit.

Then the longer I watched the time tick away on uploading a chapter of something – I just felt more and more nervous to finally show up and present you all with my frankly awful writing.

But I missed you all so much that I finally did it.

Now I’m here, with the next chapter of Danger on the Horizon ready for you. All complete with my rusty workings and skills that are a little out of practise but still raring to go. I’ve got the final few chapters all planned out, we’re nearing the end of an era :)

Happy reading, and don’t judge it too harshly lol! I’m still getting back into my stride. And thank you all so much for the amazing comments that still keep coming, and for sticking with me for so long :)))

Lotsa Love,

Flecka <3

Chapter Text

Several days later.

Things could be better.

I mean, Dream is doing fine and Sapnap, Bad and I are having a good time. They’re planning on going back to the US in a few days, and Dream’s gonna stay here for another week until he has his casts off. We’re gonna have a wonderful time and enjoy our final Four Muffinteers days.

At least, that’s what I tell myself every evening before I fall sleep.

In reality, things aren’t going too well.

Dream is on the mend, but he’s very jumpy and irritable. I overheard him speaking harshly to Sapnap, and only yesterday he snapped at Bad – and even me.

I hate that I’m not the first to admit it, but – I can be selfish. And stubborn. Especially after a week of so many emotions I can distance from my inferior feelings and become quite obstinate.

I was annoyed, so I snapped right back and he stormed off to his room and I ignored him. Maybe I shouldn’t have responded that way, but so what? I’ve been trying to be nice, but the last few days have been almost unbearable. Anyway, we always argue occasionally. Things are fine, the blow over quickly.

Except, these arguments feel different. More spiteful, over dumb stupid little things that should never have bothered him in the first place. For example, we were watching a movie one night and Sapnap got up and turned the lights on so he could find his phone charger. Dream got mad for no reason which ended in the pair of them yelling at each other before going off to their individual rooms and leaving Bad and I out on the couch wondering what the hell muffin happened.

That’s only one incident. Being in such close quarters and being unable to go outside and do anything for fear of recognition is enough to cause everyone to get on each other’s nerves.

Just now, Dream’s sulking on the edge of the couch because I shouted at Sapnap because he was being silly – it was all lighthearted and I wasn’t really angry, but Dream suddenly told me to shut up since I was too loud and I said no, although I did eventually go quiet. Dream heads off to his room. Again.

Sapnap watches the situation with a remarkably calm expression considering he’s the one we’re fighting because of, and he folds his arms. “Guys?” he says in a low voice, “We actually need to talk. What’s up with Dream?”

The nasty, vain side of myself wants to say he’s just being oversensitive, but I know that obviously can’t be the case so I offer a reasonable answer. “Maybe it’s just pain?”

Bad nods sagely. “Yeah. Like, his arm and leg are still healing, and even with painkillers it’s gotta hurt a lot.”

“He’s still got enough?” Sapnap queries, sitting down.

“Yep, I checked yesterday.”

With a sigh, Sapnap glances out the window. “We all need to be nicer to him. I know, I got annoyed with him- we all have. . . but it’s not going to help. . .”

I hardly hear his remarks as my mind drifts back to Dream’s time in hospital, and his check-up appointments. He never fully told me what happened during them, or the outcome. All he’d said was “Just the basic things.” and I never questioned them.

Surely pain can’t be the whole reason for his strange behaviour.

When has he gotten angry?

When Sapnap turned the ‘bright’ light on, when we were ‘too loud’. Among other things he’s overly sensitive to those. . .

“Maybe – he’s still getting over the concussion.” I say, interrupting the others. “It has to be that, right? He didn’t really wanna talk about it but the doctor did say there would be some longer-term side effects.”’

There is a collective “Ohhh, yeah” from the others. Bad shakes his head. “That would make sense. Dream did seem to get angry when everyone was being loud and everything. Poor muffin, we should have been more considerate.”

Definitely wish I could stop bearing a grudge as easily as Badboyhalo. He’s so willing to forgive and forget. I inwardly poke myself and try to not be as annoyed at Dream anymore. “I guess- I’ll ask him about it. Aren’t there therapists you can see for that kind of thing?”

Sapnap nods.

“I’m sure the doctor would have recommended he see one,” Bad says thoughtfully. “Maybe you should mention to him, George?”

Ughhhh and I was just arguing with him. Great. But I swallow and nod back at Bad. “Alright. I’ll do it later.” At least that gives both of us some time to cool off and be less tightly-strung about it.

About two hours later, as the three of us have been in the gaming room playing random stuff, I go out to the kitchen for some water. Dream is sitting by himself on the couch. His hair is tousled, he’s yawning, and it looks like he just woke up. He must have fallen asleep in his room. “Hey, George.” he says quietly, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

I take a steadying breath and flop non-threateningly down on the couch opposite him. “Hi. Sleep well?”

Dream sighs and leans back. “Yeah, alright. . . look- I’m sorry. About before, and this week, and- everything. I don’t know- why I’m being so frustrating. I’m sorry.” he says, in a voice that clearly knows why he’s acting like this.

I wish he’d just admit it, it would make my job so much easier I sigh to myself, knowing if I were in his position I’d do exactly the same thing. “Dream- we have an idea why. I think.”

Instead of being interested or asking about it, Dream just looks down and away briefly. I was right. He knows. “What is it?” he eventually gets out.

“You had concussion.” I manage, very inept at discussing injuries and illness. “That can cause this kind of thing. Did they suggest seeing a therapist?”

Dream seems uncomfortable. “Well. . . they did say stuff like this would happen, that it’s normal. I’ll be fine.”

Hmmm. Very obviously avoiding the question. I press a little harder. “But did they say you should?”

“I said, I’ll be fine. It should go away in a day or so, anyway. I don’t need a therapist. I want- I just want everything to go back to normal.”

I roll my eyes. He’s still given no straight answer to my question. Getting to my feet, I shrug. “Okay. But I think you should think about it.”

With a frown, Dream glares at me. “Are you trying to imply something, George?” he says – with the slightest hint of anger.

What the hell? “What!? No, of course not, idiot. I was just saying be careful- trying to help.” I splutter indignantly. Gees, I was just trying to help.

“Well okay then. Good.” Dream turns away and pulls his phone out of his pocket, and I hear him mumble. “. . .don’t need a therapist’s help either anyway.”

Absolutely fuming, I slouch off to the games room, ignoring the gnawing voice in the back of my head that’s telling me I should have said ‘sorry’.

Bad glances up when I come in the room. “Is Dream out there -was that you talking? Does he wanna come play?”

I sit down beside him and absently flick through my cards. “Yeah, he’s up. But he’s busy doing stuff on his phone, I don’t think he’s coming in.”

With a shrewd stare, Sapnap remarks offhandedly. “Did you ask him about-”

“Yes. But he wouldn’t answer directly.” I cut Sapnap off before he can finish his question. “He says he’ll be fine.”

Bad crosses his arms. “I’m a little less than convinced. I’ll ask him later.”

Not like you’ll get any different answers out of him. I casually roll the dice and end my turn. “You do that, then.”

When we all head out to the living room about an hour later, all hungry for dinner, Dream is in the kitchen stirring something in a saucepan on the stove. Whatever it is, it smells amazing.

“Oooh Dream, that looks awesome!” Bad pipes up, sidling over beside him to give him a hug. “What is it?”

“Pasta sauce.” he says with a sheepish grin. “I’m making pasta.”

Sapnap is very pleased. “Yessss, is it ready yet?”

“Nearly. Set the table.”

I’m almost as pleased as Sapnap, but I don’t say anything. Instead I go find some forks and plates and put them out on the table then sit down silently. Bad’s chattering happily and Sapnap is trying to steal some of the spaghetti. I feel a little out of place among the happy atmosphere. Dinner starts and I’m mostly quiet, observing the others. Dream seems to be making a distinct effort to be nice and apologetic, even to me. His attitude is completely contrary to the last time we talked.

I’ve almost always been able to understand Dream, why he does things and what he reasons are. But this time, I don’t understand.

Dream is confusing me, and I don’t like it.

“Please guys – before you go, can we record something for my channel?” Dream pleads eagerly. “Some ‘Minecraft, but… challenge’, while you’re all still here?”

“How are you gonna play?” I ask, a little too bluntly. “You can’t even use your right hand.”

Dream looks downcast for a moment, then brightens up instantly. “I’ve got it. We all control different things, like I could do movement, you do the mouse or something? We already coded one like that a while ago, didn’t we? But it was only for three – we’d have to just edit the code a bit for a fourth player!! C’mon, it’d be really fun.”

I look around the table. Bad and Sapnap seem enthusiastic, so I slowly nod. Dream grins and taps the his fork, thinking. “Bad, what if you controlled the direction – basically the mouse movement?”

“Sure!!”

Dream turns to me, apparently not angry at me in the slightest. “Could you do the coding? We can record something tomorrow morning.”

I find myself nodding, unwillingly smiling as I’m caught up in his enthusiasm. Dream gets so excited when he comes up with ideas, I’ve listened to him just rambling on for ages about new video concepts so many times. Sometimes he gets too passionate about things I remind myself and he burns himself out but the amount of things he does that should be detrimental to his mental (and physical) health, and he just keeps going without ever appearing to be worn out or down.

Once dinner is over, I head to my computer and turn it on. Dream’s head off to bed, since although he’s nearly better now, he still gets exhausted really quickly and Bad scolds him for staying up late.

Bad’s been doing his best to fix our sleep schedules while he has a chance. Wish I had this man’s levels of responsibility, but personally I find it easier to sleep when I’m too tired to think. Because at that point, I’m less likely to fall into the rabbit-hole of despair thinking about how wrongly I’ve reacted to literally everything.

As I patch the Minecraft code to suit Dream’s requests, I find myself remembering the first time we used it. Dream, Sapnap, and I were all in high spirits, laughing at every little thing and giggling hysterically when we made mistakes.

It feels like so long ago. We were so young, so naive to the cruel claws of a toxic internet world then so far beyond our complete understanding.

Now, there’s no laughing when mistakes are made. No light-hearted forgiveness. Instead, every word you speak, every move you make, is indelibly imprinted into the vast social network – forever stored away to be used against you when it is needed.

Once you’ve made your choice, there’s no going back.

I’ve never been one to be stuck in my past. Nor one to properly consider the future either, I’ll admit. But life isn’t like a computer script, where one choice is a line of code that can be tested and altered as required. Everything is permanent.

And on the internet, you don’t get a second chance. Once the hoards have found one error, one small slip-up from years ago, they can hack into your life – planting viruses and corrupting lines of code you spent so long writing.

On the Internet, once you’re ruined – there is no future for you there anymore. You realise how fickle a ‘promising’ destiny really is.

“George?” Sapnap startles me as he pokes his head around the door.

I save my work and turn to him, stretching. “Yeah?”

“Gonna go to bed now too. Bad’s saying you should too.”

“Okay. Nearly done.” I lie, knowing that I am in fact finished. I just wanted a moment more to myself, before I have to change my mindset into preparing for bed. “G’night.”

“Night, Gogy.”

I sigh as Sapnap closes the door. Why does everything seem to end with sleep? Every day, whether it was horrible or the best day of my life, closes with my eyes every night. Only the dreams change.

After the nightmare we lived through, I know it’s wrong – but I’m afraid our Dream’s changed too.

I guess the best thing I can do is help him in whatever way I can

Y’know, resolves I make just before bed are rarely ones I actually manage to remember the next morning. . .

Why am I in such a philosophical mood tonight?

“Why can’t people be as easy to understand and fix as computers.” I whisper sternly as I power off my pc. “Goodnight.”

TBC. . .

Love you all so much! Hope you enjoyed, please let me know how you've all been going and what you thought! Byeeeeee!! :)))

Chapter Text

“Okay, are we all ready? I’m starting the recording.” Dream presses a button on his keyboard and a small red light flashes on the screen.

As usual, the first few seconds of the recording are an awkward silence, broken by Sapnap giggling as Dream premises the video with who’s controlling what. I’m on placing blocks and crafting, Sapnap is breaking/attacking, Bad is the mouse movement, and Dream controls keyboard with his one good hand. None of us are in the same room, and I managed to find enough decent mics for everyone.

Totally not a recipe for chaos

I’ve woken up this morning in a surprisingly good spirits – I guess Bad does have a point about getting plenty of sleep improves your mood.

“GEORGE!!” Sapnap bursts in my ear, laughing. “We’ve been at the crafting bench for Five Minutes!! Make stuff!!”

Dream chuckles and as I amusedly make the standard stone tools. “I forgot!! Sorry!”

“We’re gonna do a crazy team job.” Bad says, directing our joint minecraft player towards a cave. Several encounters with mobs later, with all of us nearly dying of laughter at our botched team effort, we come to an entrance that is blocked by dirt. Dream demands the Sapnap use the ‘spoon’ to clear it.

That causes more hilarity. “Dream what is it with you and spoons??” Sapnap demands with joking indigence. “You literally did that last time, stop! It’s not funny anymore!”

“I don’t know! They’re just spoons!!” Dream wheezes as he manoeuvres us neatly around a skeleton. “Sorry, from now on I’ll call them spades- SHOVELS I mean shovels!!”

The longer we play, the the more hysterical Bad, Sapnap, and I become. We’ve died so many times because of miscommunication. This is just like old times, a well-needed breath of normality.

I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. As we head through the Nether – which took an absurd amount of time to reach due to our terrible gameplay and the fact Sapnap and I have nearly totally given up on seriously trying to win this challenge. That tends to happen quite a lot. We’ve been shouting at each other for over an hour now and giggling like crazy. Bad joins in occasionally with a bad joke, which just adds to the entertainment.

Dream’s gone a bit quiet and if I’m gonna be honest his input, when he speaks, sounds just a little snappy. I feel a spark of irritation when he speaks to me, but I just end up dismissing it and I write that off to him focusing, that’s what he tends to do. At any rate, we’re having such a good time, why on earth would he not be?

Maybe the amount of times we’ve died is annoying him. Oh well. That happens. He gets annoyed at me from time to time anyway.

Then the ghast starts shooting at us as we are trying to get blazerods. I start panicking in my usual fashion, trying to regen from the meagre supply of bread we have left. “SAPNAP KILL THEM!!! We’re on half a heart!!”

“George wait place blocks under us!! Tower out!” Dream says, backing into a corner. “Just shut up and listen to me!!”

I disregard his directions as I frantically place blocks everywhere in reach distance, trying to conceal us from the ghast. I think we’re screwed. “Sapnap HELP!!”

“Bad’s not facing the right way!!!” He screams back, and I dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Dream jumps over a gap in the nether fortress, trying to put distance between us and the ghast. “Stop screaming and listen, idiot!” he yells.

“AHHHH BAD HELP US!!” I shriek, miserably failing to be useful as a loose blaze sets us on fire once again. Yes. Definitely screwed.

“STOP BEING SO LOUD!!” Dream shouts.

Our final heart of health disappears as we burn to a crisp, and our items fall everywhere. The red-hued death screen flashes up in front of us.

“NOOOOOOoooooo” I wail in dismay. Sapnap and Bad collapse in laughter, and we start yelling at each other.

Then we hear a fist slamming onto a desk through our headsets. “SHUT UP!!!” Dream shouts, and he sounds furious. Almost in pain if I had listened closely enough.

Then he blows up at us - more specifically - at me. “GEORGE WHY THE HELL DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO F-CKING LOUD? Every time, it’s the SAME!”

I shrink down in my chair, stunned.

“I asked you to HELP! And you just IGNORED ME!! YOU’RE SO USELESS! You never take things seriously!!! I hate it! I hate- You’ve ruined everything.” he checks himself and halts what he was going to say, but I am unable to say anything back. There’s no trace of withheld amusement, nothing. Dream is deadly serious and angry. And he sounds nothing like himself.

“I-I’m sorry- I didn’t thi-” I choke out, my voice sounding pitifully thin and confused – but Dream cuts me off.

“What, you didn’t think? NO, because you never do!! It’s always about you and your screaming for WHAT? It’s just for Attention, that’s IT!!! YOU ARE an attention-seeking self-centred F-CKING MORON!”

That’s unfair and mostly untrue. Or is it?

I know I should not say anything, just ignore his outburst, but my face is burning as I feel sharp, bitter anger stirring inside me. My temper flares up at his unwarranted rage.

How dare he say that to me

I’ve never had much self control, and without thinking I snarl right back at him, blinded by red-hot fury. “What the hell? YOU’RE one to speak about attention, you egotistical- f-ck, what gives you the right to speak to me like that?”

I hear him lean back in his chair, full of enraged exasperation. “Because you need to hear it from SOMEONE, imbecile! God, I don’t know why I even talk to you, you stuck-up narcissist! It’s all about YOU, and what you want!”

he has no right to lash out at me like that, it was completely unprovoked.

“Oh, should it all be about you then?? Who do you think you are? GOD?” I hiss venomously, spite searing my tongue. “Well maybe They were right about everything, you are fake, arrogant, conceited SHIT.” As soon as those poisonous, malicious words leave my mouth I know I’ve gone too far and remorse hits me like wall of water. I can feel him recoiling from my verbal blow.

Horrified at what I just said, my mouth hangs open for a moment before I scramble for a weak, pathetic example of an apology. “N-no wait, I didn’t m-”

“Just- shut up. I can’t do this anymore.” There is a crash as Dream viciously yanks his headphones off and slams them down, and then- nothing.

Silence. Head reeling, I become painfully aware of the shocked silence from my other two friends, who haven’t said a word.

My heart is pounding, and I feel sick. Never, in all our years of friendship, has Dream gotten that mad at me. It was so sudden, too. I’ve never said anything like that to him, either.

Why did I have to handle that so wrong?

I feel really sick and my head hurts.

I should never have said those things. Maybe I was too loud before. I am too loud. I should have been more considerate. I should have listened to him.

Tears begin to sting my eyes and I quickly brush them away. What am I supposed to do now? The red flashing record light catches my attention, and with trembling hands I end the recording. I want to delete it now but I can’t. I can barely move.

I just want to be alone. The silence rings in my ears, taunting me for every scream and sound I made. Every mistake. I don’t know how to fix this fatal glitch in the code.

Shakily I get up and go sit on my bed, staring at the wall and the Youtube plaques that hang there. All because of Dream.

My selfish little brain keeps trying to justify me, telling me it’s not my fault, that Dream shouldn’t have gotten so angry. Trying to blame him.

But really, it’s pointless. And all my fault. I’m disgusted at myself.

Some time passes.

I hear the door handle turn and I freeze up, expecting it to be Bad or possibly Sapnap.

Then I hear a small, strangled voice say “I’m sorry. ‘m so, so sorry.”

I close my eyes and try to ignore him. I should be the one apologising, but I am too proud. But when I feel him sit down beside me and bury his head in his hands, all I see is the helpless figure I saw lying in the hospital, in pain and all alone after that accident that was my fault.

I’m unable to move.

Dream gulps, rubbing tears from his eyes. His shaking voice is so full of regret that it’s painful to hear. “I don’t kn-know why I got so angry, I mean, I- my head was just hurting so much and I couldn’t d-do anything properly. I didn’t mean it- I know it’s no excuse but – I’m really, really s-sorry. . .” and to my dismay, he breaks down sobbing.

“It’s alright- Dream I’m sorry for what I said. ” I manage, swallowing a lump in my throat. My words feel so empty in the still atmosphere, and I hope Dream knows I really mean it.

“N-no, no it’s not alright. I’ve got no excuse.” And I can practically feel his exhaustion as he tries to hold back his tears. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I should never have- ” I try to say quietly, and any trace of anger or resentment that I was feeling just seems to melt away as I speak and leave guilt hanging there instead. “-have said those things, I don’t believe them at all, they’re not true. I’m- ‘m sorry for always being so loud.”

Dream gives a choked laugh, and shakes his head. “No. If you think I really meant anything I just said, you are an idiot.” He gives a sigh, still obviously upset. “I could never mean that. I’m the one who is an attention-seeking loser.”

I shrug and scrub a hand over my face, unsure of how to respond. “No, no. . .”

“I hate being like this.” he sniffs, “I hate not knowing what’s going to make me mad. Just- just the fact that I could do something like that again - it’s scaring me. And it makes it worse that I didn’t even realise what I was doing, until after. I didn’t even know I was about to do it.”

Silently I listen. I don’t know what to say. I watch a tear run down his scarred, freckled face.

Dream looks down and pauses, and clenches his fist. Then he glances up at me again, and his once sunny-green eyes are full of despair and resignation. “I think- it would be better if- maybe if I should qu-quit Youtube.”

I look up sharply, shocked. Youtube has been Dream’s passion, his life, since he was 13 years old. Things must be falling apart for him, if he is actually is thinking about this. “What?” I get out, unable to say any more.

This is my fault, my words that are making him feel this way. I’m certain. What have I done?

Dream swallows and rests his head in his hands again. “I don’t know. I just- I can’t think straight. People hate me. And if I do something stupid like what I just did, again? It’ll all be over. I can’t risk it. And I’m putting you all in danger, since you’re associated with me. You don’t deserve all this.” his voice trembles, and again I’m aware of just how utterly exhausted he is.

Frick everything, he’s almost still a child. Barely 21. And even though I’m nearly constantly looking up to him, for once I realise he’s asking me for advice.

T hen Hell, I’m gonna give him the best advice my pitiful self can.

“Neither do you, Dream.” I say firmly, and awkwardly wrap my arm around his shoulder. “What people think means nothing. It’s not true. And you know – I think you should quit Youtube. But not the way you’re thinking. You need a break. We all do. I think you should have a break from Youtube. No uploading, and no planning anything. Just existing for yourself, not the world.”

With a nod, Dream sniffles and returns my hug. “But- they’ll be expecting content- I can’t just disappear- I don’t know what to do.” He breaks off and winces, putting a hand to his forehead. “Oh god, my head hurts.”

I watch him worriedly. “It doesn’t matter Dream. It’s your life. You don’t have to make all these people happy. Plus, you can still come back eventually. But I’d only recommend doing that after you accept the rest of my advice.”

“What’s that?”

I take a deep breath, realising how much I’ve been talking and suddenly feeling out of my depth. My burst of inspiration was lamentably short. “You should see that therapist.”

Again Dream gives a strangled laugh. “Hah, I guess that would be a good idea. I don’t wanna ever do anything like that again. Maybe we all should.” he pauses once more, thinking earnestly. “But is it worth it, George? For you guys, I mean. All this hate from everyone, the harassment, everything. You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

I frown at him. His voice is gradually getting more subdued and I know he’s worn out and needs to rest. “It’s worth it, Dream. We’d probably get far more hate without your help, anyway. Y’know that line ‘You miss one hundred percent of the shots that you don’t take’? We gotta just find the balance between risk and reward.”

Dream chuckles lightly and gently pokes me. “You’re speaking like a book of quotations. Stop being so sensible. It sounds like lyrics to a song.”

I’m sensing Dream’s mood is changing quite fast, but this time I’m ready for his mood swing. Honestly, what we all need is a cup of hot chocolate and good twelve hour’s sleep. “Okay. Want some cocoa or something?”

“Alright.” Dream sighs heavily, and closes his eyes for a second. “Do we have any Neurofen too?”

“Sure, I’ll get some.” I respond, getting up stiffly. I’m so tired now. Way too many emotions for one day. Despite everything we’ve just said, Dream’s cutting, angry words from before are still echoing faintly in my head. Even though I forgave him, I know it’s going to be a long time before I forget what he said, and what I said back. My horrible, vicious response will haunt me for a long time now, and I’ll have a lot to do to make it up to him.

His words hurt me. And my words really hurt him too.

On his part, it wasn’t all his fault, but accidents hurt never the less. Accidents still leave their own scars, both mental and physical. On both of us.

“George?”

I turn around. “Yeah?”

Dream blinks, and his eyes are glistening with tears once more. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

I swallow and nod, giving him a faint smile. “Dream. It’s alright. Don’t think about it. I should be apologising more.”

But I guess in the end, scars make us learn.

TBC. . .

we're getting so close to the end, only like one or two chapters to go!!

thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement, i really appreciate it all and love you all so much :)))

I was quite nervous about this chapter, hope you enjoyed it! Let me know in the comments ;)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year too!!!