Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The blaring sound of an alarm rips through the stale Florida air. Clays eyes shoot open, in panic, glancing around wildly for the source of the sound. On his nightstand sits his brightly lit phone, blasting some random sound that it had come pre-set with.
 
Clay fumbles, cursing as he nearly falls out of bed. Trying, and failing, to grab the obnoxious phone. After a minute or so of struggling in the dark, the alarm is off. Clay squints at the blinding screen...
 
4:03 am. He lets out a frustrated groan.
 
Why had he set such an early alarm?

Clay collapsed back onto the well-loved mattress. Rubbing his eyes with the base of his palms, trying in vain to stop the headache that was already beginning to form. His hands eventually drifting towards his scalp entangling themselves into the mess that was his hair.

The alarm made absolutely no sense. He didn’t even have to be at school until 7:30! Which granted was way too early if you asked his opinion, but still. There were no projects with impending deadlines, no family obligations, no doctor’s appointments. Not even a call with one of his friends from a different time zone. Nothing. Nada. Zip. 

Clay’s nose wrinkled in frustration, face turning sour. It felt like he was forgetting something. Something that should have been important. His phone lit up at a notification.

Clay groaned again. Might as well answer, he was up already anyway. 

Raising the phone to look at it again Clay paused staring transfixed at the notification. ‘Happy Birthday Man!’ was plastered in the notification. It was from Sapnap. It was only then that Clay noticed the date which he had failed to see in the acute stress caused by the alarm. August 12th…
 
Today was his birthday. His 18th birthday. Today was the day he’d finally be able to talk to his soulmate for the first time.

There was a buzz of excitement in his chest. Clay’s easy smile stretching into a blinding grin. He bolted out of bed, rushing to the light switch. Giddy with the prospect of contact with his soulmate.
 
Flipping the switch, the room was instantly bathed in a soft yellow light that made the whole of his room feel warmer in the almost humid air. Clay stopped surveying his messy room, eyes blinking rapidly from the sudden flood of light.

His room wasn’t large by any means. But it was cozy with his bed backed into one corner and his desk tucked into the other. Posters of stars and planets he’d gotten over the years littering the walls.  
 
Now, Clay’s bed was haphazardly thrown together on a good day. But with the battle fought this morning it looked like it had been attacked by a puma. With most of the blankets and sheets laying precariously over the edge, his favorite pillow laying seemingly forgotten on the side of the bed, and a notably absent plushie that he’d gotten from his sister. 

Piles of undone laundry lined the corners of the room. He’d been too exhausted from his late-night gaming to do it, or at least that’s what he’d told himself for the past few weeks. 

What was probably more likely, was that his ADHD was making him tired again. But that was a problem for another morning.

His room was a mess but it felt lived in. It felt comfortable. It felt like home.
 
Clay’s eyes adjusted, landing on his desk. An old rickety thing that his mom had gotten at a garage sale when he was 10. It had hundreds of scratches when they’d gotten it and Clay and his siblings hadn’t been exactly kind to it. There was defiantly a point when it stopped being a desk held together by craftmanship and nails and turned into a pile of two-by-fours barely being held together with gorilla glue. Some would call it a piece of junk.

Clay liked to think it was just well-loved. 

The old desk was piled high with empty glass water bottles, crumpled-up chip bags, and sticky notes with hasty scribbles. Serving as more examples of his absentmindedness. And under it all, sat his dormmate computer. The monitor and mouse were well-aged from use.
 
Clay walked briskly over to the desk. Opening the top drawer with a jerk, the contents protesting making a loud clanking sound.

He peered inside. There were tens of pens, pencils, and highlighters scattered through it. Half of them probably didn’t even work anymore. Clay always seemed to forget to throw them away. Clay squinted his eyes as he started searching the cluttered drawer. He was looking for a specific pen he’d sworn he’d thrown in there the other day…
 
Ah! There it is!
 
Grabbing the pitch-black gel pen and quickly uncapping it. Adrenalin driving him. His heart nearly beating out of his chest. He was really going to talk to his soulmate! This was it. 

Then just as quick Clay stopped. The pen suspended mid-writing stance above his skin.
 
He’d thought this through a thousand times. Maybe more than that. The piles and piles of first possible messages he’d send to his soulmate ought to be proof of that. Small mountains of sticky notes scattered everywhere. 
He’d been far too young to remember when he had started keeping the notes and even younger when he’d written his first. Enamored with the idea that there was someone out there in the world that was made for him. That was the perfect complement for him.
 
As he had gotten older his vision of perfect serenity had been dampened. He’d began wondering if his match would end up like a few of his friends. Uninterested or… repulsed by him.
 
Clay frowned, moving his hand away from his still blank skin. 

Clay wasn’t exactly soulmate material himself. He was an extremely impulsive person. The amount of times George had gotten frustrated because they’d set up a recording session and just had no plan was immeasurable at this point. 

It certainly didn’t help that Clay’s ADHD made him restless. His mom had caught him pacing through the hallway and living room at all hours of the night. To caught in his own head to realize what time it was. And while Sapnap and George hadn’t mentioned his stimming, Clay had found that his classmates weren’t fond of the drumming or humming. Maybe Sap and George hadn’t said anything because they wanted to be polite?

Clay despised it. His ADHD was something completely out of his control. Constantly throwing curveballs at him, trying purposely to make him fail. Adding that to his competitive nature it was all a perfect mixture for disaster. For his anger to boil over. His anger was like phosphorus, quick to light but hard to extinguish. There were situations from years ago that he was still pissed off about.
 
And to top it all off he wasn’t even conventionally attractive.  

Clay had often thought how his soulmate would be disappointed when they saw him. A gangly thing. With long thin limbs not really knowing their place. Clay had found out during freshman year that his arms were more suited to coding than football.
 He’d only made it a week… before he’d quit. 
His skin was spray-painted by freckles and the beginning of some late teenage acne. Light brown flecks and inflamed blotches pooling together to make a mess that was his face. 
Clay reached up trying to run his hands through his tangled mess of golden strands. With little success. It was too long too tame and too short to brush. 
Hell, even his eyes resembled swamp water more than his sister's emerald green ones.
 
Maybe it was all for nothing then? Why bother with it if he was sure to get rejected? But his mother had told him something once oh so long ago when they’d lived in a different house in a different county. 

It was a small house damaged heavily by previous tenants. The backyard was overgrown and full of fire ants. The walls were cracked and full of holes. The water rarely got hot. And the first year they’d lived there the air conditioner had gone out. His mother had called it well-loved from age. He distinctly remembers hating it when they moved in and hating it when they move out.  

"Soulmates are a precious thing.” She’d said. Her long fingers carefully combing through the haystack that was his hair. “Born of love, sacrifice, and heartache. Some soulmates petter out. Others burn bright with energy. It doesn't matter which category you fall into.” He remembers her smile reaching her eyes. “You'll always have someone who shares a special connection with you. And that its self is magical."
Clay stared back down at his arm. He had a habit of shooting himself in the foot. Stopping himself before he’d even tried. 
Positive thoughts! Think positive!

…

But now… what to write?

Clay peered at the sticky notes lining his computer. Maybe one of his old notes would give him an idea! After all, he’d had 18 or so years to come up with something good!

However, after scanning through most of the colorful notes, he was disappointed to find that almost all of them were too personal for a first conversation… even for his soulmate.
 
Then his eyes landed on a pale blue sticky note stuck to one of his water bottles. Gingerly, Clay pried the note off the bottle.
 
“Hey! Have you ever noticed that freckles look kinda like stars?” was scribbled on the note in messy blue ink. With tiny constellations littering the bottom. It was one that he’d written in the middle of the night while on a discord call with Sapnap and George. Half sleep-deprived and half sick. It’d been something that Sapnap had mentioned.
“I was looking at the screenshot you sent us earlier.”

“mmh”

“You mean when he was supposed to be asleep.” George quipped. 

“mmh not tired.” Clay had managed. 

“Sure. Anyway, I thought it was your hand or your shoulder or somethin’.” 

“Why would you think it was his SHOULDER?! Dumbass.” George laughed and Clay joined in. His own laugh turning into a wheezing breathless one. 

“I am not!” Sapnap tried to defend. Clay could practically see his cheeks puffing up in mock anger. “Don’t you remember that picture of his hand he sent us a few months ago? His freckles literally look like stars.” 
 
Smiling at the memory, Clay took his pen and scribbled the message on his left wrist. The message was silly but... there was something about it that just seemed to fit. 
 
Clay sat back on his bed, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone as he waited for a reply...
 
That would never come.

Nick awoke to the sun’s rays shining brightly into his eyes. The morning light dusting a warm orange glow over his cluttered room. Blinking the sleep away, he checked the time on his phone… 7:09 am.
 
Cool, he had about an hour till school.
 
He groaned as he sat up, his back aching from his worn-out box spring bed. Rubbing his aching back gingerly, Nick walked over to his dresser; which in all honesty had seen better days. Much like most of his furniture, it was covered from top to bottom in scratches. Water rings layering the top like a tablecloth, the drawers jammed most days, and it was missing half of the knobs it came with. By all accounts, it was a piece of junk, but somehow it felt safe and familiar. A sense of comfort.
 
Opening the middle drawer with some effort, it was getting harder to open every morning, Nick grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans. Making his way down the hallway, towards the bathroom, he passed the open door leading to his mother's room. Oh great, she was awake. Nick grimaced looking down the hallway trying to spot her before she spotted him. He hoped she’d already left the house.
 
Pushing back the thought he continued on towards the cramped space that was his bathroom.
 
Nick flicked the switch, the dilapidated light blinking several times before, finally, staying on. The walls and counter dyed a sickly yellow color from the previous owner’s smoking habits. It hadn’t changed a bit from the ten years they’d been in the house. Glancing at the mirror Nick winced at the state of his hair.
 
His dark hair was sticking up in all directions. Placing a hand on the back of his head. Nick could feel the thick knots that had formed in his hair from his restless sleep. Looking at the mirror again he saw deep dark circles under his already dark eyes. His skin mimicking the walls had turned a sickly color. He really hadn’t gotten any sleep, huh.
 
After showering and slipping into his clothes Nick walked briskly down the hall towards the kitchen. Even IF she was home hopefully he’d be able to get out before she noticed. His cats skirting around his heels, probably looking for treats.
 
As Nick entered, he spotted his mother who was, thankfully,  too focused on her laptop to pay too much attention to him. Grabbing the bread stowed away in the cabinet and popping it in the toaster Nick checked the time again... 7:40 am. Ten minutes to eat and run out the door.
 
“Happy Birthday by the way.”
 
“What?” Nick said looking up confused.
 
“It’s the first.” His mother’s face was stoic and emotionless.
 
Checking the date on his phone and sure enough at the top of his screen… March 1st. It had completely slipped his mind. This was his 18th birthday. For the first time in his life, he could communicate with the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Well, at least that’s how it's supposed to work.

You start writing to your soulmate on your 18th birthday, you meet, you get married, and live happily ever after. That’s the story that gets shoved down your throat from the time you're born.
 
Nick glanced at his mother, a middle-aged woman with frown lines that made her seem older. Her heavily damaged brown hair was in a wiry bun and her eyes heavy with black circles. She was still wearing the same clothes she put on 3 days ago. Who knows when the last time she slept was or even took a shower…

"Soulmates are a worthless concept. They're judgmental and will want to change you. You'll never be good enough for them.”

Nick remembers her saying those exact words the day his parent’s divorce was finalized. And maybe she was right. After all, Nick’s dad never tried to contact him. Even after he’d promised.
 
Then his eyes landed on the blacked-out script covering her arm. Ah, that explained it. Dad had tried talking to her again. She’d be in a foul mood for the rest of the week. 
 
Not all soulmates had fairytale endings.
 
“You better get going. It's 7:50.” His mother stated not looking up.
 
“Shit.”
 
Scrambling, Nick grabbed his toast and his keys heading towards the door. Only stopping briefly when he spots a red sharpie. 

You'll never know until you try.

Against his better judgment, he grabs the bright pen before bolting out the door.

Chapter Text

*DING*

Nick tapped his fingers incessantly on the worn-out leather of his steering wheel. The air conditioner and radio both on full blast sending waves of sound bouncing through the small truck. The message was probably from George… again.

George had been messaging him constantly for the last 30 minutes, trying to get him into a voice call. He knew exactly what George wanted. George wanted to know how his soulmate meeting had gone.

Nick glanced at his arm, a small frown gracing his face. Still blank. Truthfully, some part of him was happy his soulmate hadn’t replied to him. But there was another part of him, one that had been long forgotten in the turmoil of his parent's separation, that wished that his soulmate had replied.

“Damn light,” Nick said growing impatient.

It wasn't just George that was making him antsy. He also had a shock stream he had to do tonight and who knows how long THAT would take to set up. And then there was the matter of his mother…

*DING*

…God, he hoped she wasn’t home.

*DING*

*DING*

*DING*

Nick glared at his phone as a new flood of messages came in, this time from Bad. He was about ready to turn the thing on silent. They knew he really didn't want to talk about his soulmate. Every time they would bring up the topic, he tried shutting them down. However, nothing seemed to work.

At this point, it was starting to be a weekly topic of conversation. He knew they were only doing it out of concern. Nick was fairly sure one of the main reasons that they tried so hard to talk to him about it was because of Dream. Both Bad and George had to wait a few years before talking to their soulmates. With Bad only getting to talk to his soulmate for the first time, only a few short months ago.

Dream however had taken the silence from his soulmate pretty hard. Anytime the notion of soulmates came up, he got noticeably quieter and almost seemed to retract himself from the conversation. Often enough he would come up with some excuse on why he needed to leave the call.

It was really starting to get out of hand. And it seemed like George and Bad had come to the same conclusion. They wouldn’t and couldn’t let Nick spiral to that point.

*HONK*

Nick's head snapped up at the sound, eyes wide. He’d zoned out.

The light had finally turned green.

Nick carefully opened the front door, scanning the sparse living room for his mother. However, all seemed quiet.

Maybe she was out? He hoped, glancing around the kitchen. A note on the refrigerator caught his eye.

(I'll be out of town for a couple of days) It read in the barely legible script.

(You'll have to fend for yourself)

Nick groaned. He knew from past experience that both the refrigerator and the pantry were empty. He’d have to go to the grocery store.

But at least she'd be gone for a few days which left him with a small amount of peace. Glancing at his arm again.

He had written a simple “Hi” in red sharpie close to his elbow. Nick made sure it was high enough that if his mother had been home, he could have covered it.

Deciding to run to the store later, Nick paced down the hall to his room where his computer sat, collecting dust. He pressed the power button, and his computer came roaring to life with a loud whirling sound. After his computer booted up, he opened discord. ‘23 unread messages’ it stated in bright white text.

Oh, great…

Nick scanned the bottom section of the messages.

GeorgeNotFound: come on Sapnap we're just curious

Badboyhalo: George it's fine maybe he really just doesn't want to talk about it.

Ah Bad, always trying to be the peacekeeper.

Sapnap: It's fine

Sapnap: I didn't get a reply

Badboyhalo: I'm so sorry SAP! :[

Badboyhalo: Don't worry! Sometimes it just takes time!

A long time… possibly never would be great, thought Nick. Absentmindedly biting the inside of his cheek.

GeorgeNotFound: did you actually write to them

GeorgeNotFound: or are you just telling us this so will quit bothering you about it

GeorgeNotFound: ?

Sometimes… George was too smart for his own good. Not that Nick would ever tell him that.

Sapnap: I did honestly

Sapnap: Now could we move on?

GeorgeNotFound: you sound upset

Sapnap: I am you spammed me with messages all afternoon

GeorgeNotFound: alright I'm sorry I'm just worried

Badboyhalo: We both are :[

GeorgeNotFound: we know that home hasn’t been great

Badboyhalo: We don’t want you to be discouraged! Sometimes it doesn’t work out. But sometimes it does.

GeorgeNotFound: honestly we want you to be happy

GeorgeNotFound: if not contacting them makes you happy that’s ok

Badboyhalo: We just don’t want you to miss an opportunity is all.

Nick had never really gone into specifics about his parents. The most that he had really told them was that they were soulmates and that they had separated.

Sapnap: I’m fine just tired

Badboyhalo: Are you sure you’re up for streaming tonight?

Sapnap: Yeah it's just been a long day

Sapnap: I'm good

Badboyhalo: Ok let us know if you need to head out early!

Badboyhalo: Want to get into a call? UwU

Sapnap: Sure

A minute later Nick and George were arguing over the code for the shock stream while Bad tried to keep the two on track. The tense conversation from earlier, long forgotten.

“OUCH,” Nick yelped. Jumping at the sudden shock. After about a half-hour of fiddling with the code, they had finally gotten it to work correctly.

“Are you ok?” Bad asked, sounding concerned. Meanwhile, George was laughing hysterically in the background.

“Peachy,” Nick replied, rubbing his now sore arm.

“Told you it’d hurt like hell.” Dream commented. His voice sounding strained and gravely.

Nick had been so preoccupied he hadn’t noticed Dream had joined the call. Dream had been sick the last few days and had only been messaging people periodically.

“You sound like a frog!” George gasped sending him into a fit of giggles.

“You try talking with a sore throat and while trying to cough up gunk. “Dream replied.

*COUGH COUGH*

“Gross. But seriously maybe you should go back to bed.” Nick said casually leaning back in his chair. As much as he’d really like to talk to Dream. His friend didn’t sound well. Dream had a nasty habit of working while he was sick.

“I’ve been in bed… all day.” Dream groaned. “I’m tired of being in…” *ACHOO*

“Even so, you still sound pretty sick man,” Nick replied voicing his concern. That sent Dream into another coughing fit. There was no way they were going to let him stay on here while he’s clearly still sick. “How about a compromise. You head back to bed for a bit and if you're still awake after the shock stream we’ll sit and talk. Ok?” Nick asked, hoping his friend would fall asleep in the meantime.

“Really I'm f” *COUGH* “Fine.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re choking on air to me.” George replied. Nick could almost imagine the smirk forming on his face.

“I agree with Sap,” Bad said, finally chiming in. “Go rest awhile more. You’re always overworking yourself and it’s not healthy.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to be here. We aren’t going to disappear if you don’t talk to us for a few days. Go get some rest.” George pipped in.

“Better eat something if you haven’t.” Bad added.

“All of you are mother hens.” *COUGH* “Alright, alright I’ll go eat something and go back to bed.” With that Dream begrudgingly left the call.

Nick glanced at the clock on his computer. It read in bright text 11:24 pm. An hour had passed since the stream had ended. It was getting pretty late and George and Bad had already signed off for the night. He’d need to go to bed soon if he wanted any chance of waking up in the morning.

The stream had gone well.

Well… as good as a stream where you were getting electrocuted could go. He’d died a few times, gotten set on fire far more, and had repeatedly been shot at by a ghast. All things considered, at least he didn’t get withered.

Nick got up groaning as he stretched. After shutting down his computer he went through his nightly routine of shutting off the lights and locking the doors. His cats trailing behind him wanting food. He obliged pouring some kibble into one of the tin bowls in the kitchen. His cats meowing gratefully at the gesture.

Nick glanced at the fridge. He was hungry but he hadn't gotten groceries and was too tired to head to the 24-hour Walmart up the road. Food would have to wait till morning. Slinking back to his room. He slipped on an old T-shirt and a pair of joggers and collapsed on his bed. Sighing in relief. Today had been a long day and Nick was ready to sleep…

*DING*

Probably George sending memes in the chat again.

*DING*

…

*DING*

…

*DING*

“UGH. Alright, I’m up! I’m up!” Nick grabbed his phone in frustration. Squinting at the bright screen. He was surprised to find the messages weren’t from George.

DreamWasTaken: Hey thought we were going to talk after the stream?

DreamWasTaken: Hey!

DreamWasTaken: HEY!

DreamWasTaken: At least tell me if you got what I sent you. It was supposed to be there today!

Nick looked at his phone in confusion. Dream sent him something? He hadn’t seen anything on the porch when he came in the house earlier. Deciding that maybe this would be better explained over a voice call Nick hit the call button on discord. Dream picking up after a few seconds.

“SAPMAP” *COUGH*

“I told you not to call me that!” Nick answered, a smile forming on his face.

“Stream was great” *COUGH COUGH* “By the way. I couldn’t stop laughing. Both my mom and Drista came in to see if I was dying.”

Nick laughed. A wide grin replacing his smile. “Were you up watching the stream the whole time?”

“…If I say yes will you be mad?”

“A bit. You were supposed to get some rest.”

“Then no. I definitely didn’t watch the whole stream.”

“Suuure.”

“Just don’t tell” *Cough* “Bad.”

“I won’t if you don’t tell him who messed up the spawn on his server.”

“Hmm not sure it’s worth that…”

“Mmmk then let me just text Bad real quick.”

*COUGH COUGH* “ALRIGHT! I won’t tell him.”

“Ah, the fear of Bad. Too great for the both of us.” Nick said laughing.

“Please, the last time I got sick and stayed up. I had about eight different articles about the dangers of over-exhaustion angerly read to me over discord.”

“You think that’s bad, the last time I got sick he threatened to personally visit me if I didn’t eat something.”

“Oh yeah! You were so sick *COUGH COUGH* and you were by yourself too which was extra terrible.”

“Completely forgot about that part if I’m being honest.” He’d been so sick. Too sick to eat, to talk, to breath. He was barely able to leave his room to run to the bathroom to puke. High fever clouding most of his memories from those two weeks. He couldn’t remember if she was there or not. His mom was rarely home for long periods of time, so it wasn’t really out of the realm of possibility.

“Had me so *COUGH COUGH COUGH* worried. Both Bad and I debated on flying out to check on you.”

Well, that was new. He certainly didn’t remember them bringing this up.

“You never told me that.”

*COUGH* “Well when you started getting better and your cold went away, so did the plan. Well, what little of a plan we had. We hadn’t even thought threw what we were going to do after we landed in the airport.” Dream replied laughing slightly.

Nick would probably deny that his heart felt a little lighter at the notion of his friends caring so much.

“By the way, what was that thing you were talking about earlier?”

“Thing...? What… OH! I sent you something! Did you get it?!” Dream replied excitement laced in his voice.

“What like a box?”

“Yeah, like a big box! You haven’t seen it?” Dream said his voice now reflecting his disappointment.

“I checked the porch when I came home from school. Didn’t see it.”

“Humor me… go check.”

“I'm in bed!”

“GO CHECK!”

“NO, I'M TIRED I WANT TO SLEEP!”

“GO CHECK!”

“NO! I'LL DO IT IN THE MORNING!”

“GO……CHECK.”

“FINE!”

Stumbling out of bed, phone clutched in his hand, Nick felt his way towards the hallway looking for the light switch.

“ARE YOU CHECKING?”

“NO, I LIKE TRYING TO FIND MY WAY DOWN THE HALL IN THE DARK!” Finally finding the light switch Nick flicked it on bathing the hall and living room in a soft yellow glow.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

“If I wanted to be happy, I'd be in bed.”

“Check the porch.”

Nick sighed flipping on the porch light and unlocking the front door with a soft click. The night was warm almost muggy. Most likely from some impending rain that would surely follow in the coming days. Except for the porch light, the rest of the street was pitch black with not even a light in a window to be seen. The only sound was from some dogs barking in the distance. Too early in the year, yet, for the cicadas and crickets that normally plagued the night air with their loud chirps.

After a moment, Nick remembered why he’d come out here to begin with. Glancing around he spotted a large box perched precariously on the fencing surrounding the porch. Taking it in his arms he took it inside where he’d left Dream on the couch.

“Found it” Nick chimed dropping the box on the couch next to his phone. Startling one of his cats that had gotten curious of the noise-making device.

“Well go ahead and” *COUGH COUGH* “and open it.”

“Nah, I think I'll wait a few weeks,” Nick replied grabbing a pair of scissors off the nearby entry table.

“You better not!” Dream answered, laughing again.

Securing the scissors in his hand. Nick slid them along the line of tape on the top of the box. The box popping open a few seconds later.

Nick stilled. Inside the box, were several individually wrapped gifts. Some wrapped in tissue paper others in proper wrapping paper. All in varying shades of blue.

“What’s…”

“It’s for your birthday! Thought I forgot huh?” Dream said, excitement entering his voice again. “Open them! I’ve been waiting two weeks for your reaction already! The suspense is killing me!”

Grin returning to his face, Nick reached in the box and started unwrapping the closest gift to him. A bright aqua cylinder tied together at the tips like a candy wrapper. He discovered, after carefully removing the wrapping paper, that inside was a hoodie. It was simple, black but it was soft and light.

“You know I love me some hoodies.”

“I do. I do”

Next, he moved to the other cylinder on the other side of the box. This time wrapped in deep dark blue tissue paper. Nick pulled on the paper, it falling away easily. It was a custom water bottle, a dream version of his Minecraft character plastered on the front.

“What’s your thing with water bottles?” Nick said laughing as he put it aside.

“I don’t have a thing *COUGH* with water bottles…”

“Uhhuh, sure.”

“I DON’T!” Dream laughed.

The next few gifts were the same as the first. More hoodies in that same lightweight soft material. One in a cobalt blue and the other a bright neon green with a smile on the front.

“You sent me merch! I thought you weren’t going to get these for another month.”

“I needed something extra to put in the box” *COUGH COUGH* “That one's the test one I got.”

The next two were T-shirts. One in a deep red that read ‘Didn’t mean to catch your house on fire… opps’. The second a deep navy that read ‘I would push you in front of a zombie to save my cat’ with a picture of a cat surrounded by zombies.

“What are these T-shirts?!” Nick said laughing.

“I searched T-shirts for the firebug and cat lover in my life.”

“I’m not a firebug.”

“Tubbos house would disagree with that statement.”

Finally, he got to the largest wrapped gift in the box. Sitting at the bottom of the box was a gift covered in dark blue wrapping paper.

Gingerly he took the scissors and cut along the edges revealing a plastic case containing a pair of headphones. The headphones he’d been saving up to buy for the last two months…

Carefully he took them out of the casing and held them. Feeling the soft leather of the headband in his hands.

“How did you…?” Nick swore he hadn’t told Dream what pair he was thinking of getting. So how did he...

“I bribed it out of George.” *COUGH* “I now owe him merch and two video ideas.”

He’d really gone out of his way to give Nick exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t the expense of the gifts. He was sure Dream had spent entirely too much. But all the thought that went into it. It had been so long since someone had given him something with so much thought put into it.

“Happy birthday Sap.”

As the warm night turned to rain the silence turned to booming thunder and night turned to morning. Both boys had fallen asleep, cursive pen long-forgotten, smiles decorating their faces. Among the peace one might miss the still faint blush dusted over Nick's cheeks. Though if asked... he would probably deny it.

Chapter Text

*CRASH*

Startled by the sudden sound, Nick looked up. Eyes blurred and head spinning. His cat jumping off him; alarmed and confused as to why its heated bed had suddenly moved.

*CRASH*

Another lightning strike. Slowly lifting himself up, Nick peeked out the window. It was pouring, the low-lying street in front of his house nearly covered with water. The sky dark with large clouds obscuring any chance of sunlight from reaching through. He had been in a dead sleep after talking with Dream all night.

What time was it? Checking his phone, 1:32 pm.

“Fuck” Nick said flopping back on the bed, arm covering his sore eyes. The only light in his room, coming from the lightning flashing outside. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. He'd be fine as long as the school didn't call.

Lifting his arm up, glancing towards his elbow again.

Nothing.

…

*DING*

…

Nick sat up, looking quickly for his phone. He hoped that it was only discord notification. After a moment, he noticed the outline of the well-used tech laying discarded close to the window. Picking it up he spotted a discord notification, sighing in relief.

DreamNotFound: MORNING SAPNAP! ;)

DreamNotFound: HEY! PANDAS! WAKE UP!

DreamNotFound: Its 1 in the afternoon already

Sapnap: I’m up clingy

*DING*

DreamNotFound: Have you tried the headphones yet?

Nick smiled, his cat moving to lay in his lap again. Plopping down with a satisfied purr.

Sapnap: Not yet

Sapnap: Maybe next week ;)

Sapnap: AND DON’T CALL ME PANDAS

DreamNotFound: Your kidding…

Sapnap: MAYBE ;)

DreamNotFound: Such a tease!

Sapnap: Haven’t even tried on your shirts yet

DreamNotFound: You’re going to be the death of me.

*CRASH*

DreamNotFound: Id be heartbroken if you were like this with George.

Sapnap: Only for you hun ;)

Sapnap: Lol

DreamNotFound: Lol

DreamNotFound: Did you eat?

Sapnap: ?

DreamNotFound: You mentioned your mom was gone last night. You always forget to eat when she’s out of the house.

That was only partially true. Most of the time, whenever she left, there wasn’t any food in the house. It wasn’t that she didn’t care he didn't have any food. She just forgot was all.

Sapnap: Haven't yet

Sapnap: Gotta go to the store

DreamNotFound: Get going then! It's like what 2 in the afternoon there?

Sapnap: It’s not 2

Sapnap: AND its poring

DreamNotFound: You know I can pull up those plane tickets…

Sapnap: You wouldn't

DreamNotFound: Want to try me?

Sapnap: Nvm I’m going

Sapnap: I’m going

*CRASH*

Sighing, Nick closed his eyes and leaned back slightly. He really did need to go to the store but in this weather, there’d be wrecks all across the highways. If Nick had learned anything from driving in Texas, it was that Texans couldn’t drive, let alone in the rain.

He shifted, trying to pry his legs out from under his cat. Said ball of fur complaining at the sudden movement; trying to readjust to a sleeping position as Nick failed to get out from under the tabby.

“Let me up,” Nick said picking up the orange tabby and moving her onto a nearby pillow. She again meowed in protest.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Nick groaned, stretching.

*CRASH*

No point in taking a shower then. Fresh clothes would have to do for today. Jostling the drawer open, Nick glanced inside the nearly bare dresser. Old and ratty t-shirts lining the bottom of the drawer. He grabbed a few to examine them. Surely one would work.

After trying for about 10 minutes to find… something… that wasn’t either too small or filled with so many holes it looked like swiss cheese, Nick gave up. Slinking into the living room he spotted what he was looking for. The box filled with the new clothes Dream had sent him.

*CRASH*

Looking outside the large bay window of his living room, Nick could see that the street was covered in water now. If he didn’t hurry up and get out he’d be hydro planning on the main road. Not even looking, he grabbed the top piece of cloth and ran back to his room to change.

-

Nick didn’t know if he was getting sick or something else but the rain felt extra cold today as he sprinted from the front door to his truck; sliding into the driver seat. Hands shivering as he ran them up his neon green covered arms; trying to generate some heat. He glanced around looking for his keys that he’d thrown in his haste to get in the truck.

Spotting them on the floor on the passenger side; Nick snagged the well-worn keys and shoved them into the ignition. The old truck roaring to life.

Carefully, Nick backed out of the cracked driveway and onto the flooded road. After a few minutes of inching along, he made it to the stop sign at the end of the side street. Turning onto the main road Nick was pleased to see the road wasn’t bad, most of the water was rushing along the side of the road most likely draining into the nearby stream.

He’d decided in between running down the hallway looking for his keys and bolting out the door; that he’d chance the rain and run to the fancier grocery store. “Fancier” essentially meant that it had a fully functional bakery that was big enough to lose a child in. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t craving one of those giant cream puffs they put out every morning.

Nick pulled into the parking lot just as his phone started to blare. Checking the id, he could see it was Dream. Nick answered the call.

“Missed me?” Nick joked turning the engine off.

*COUGH* “Did you go get food?”

Well, at least his voice was starting to sound better. Even if he still had that nasty cough. Nick slipped on his cheap skull candy earbuds so he could hear Dream without holding his phone constantly against his ear.

“I'm wearing one of the hoodies you got me. It's super comfortable.”

“I'm glad you like it but you're dodging my question.”

When Dream fixated on something he wouldn’t let it go.

“I'm at the grocery store right now,” Nick replied taking the cool shopping cart in his hands.

“What are you getting?” *COUGH*

“Oh, you know… uh… cereal. Maybe some milk… umm… chips?

“And?”

“And what?”

“That's all you're…” *COUGH* “… getting?”

“Well, I mean I'll probably get some bread because I’m not a total heathen.” Nick joked, laughing.

“You're not going to get anything else?” Dream pushed.

“Hadn't planned on it.”

“Alright then what are you going to eat?” *COUGH*

“Probably some cereal.”

“You haven't eaten anything in 24 hours and you're going to eat cereal?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don't cook very much.” Truthfully, he hadn't cooked in almost six months. Not because he didn't have time, but he was quite clumsy as his mother would say.

There was a pause as Nick threw some coco puffs into the basket.

“Do you want… me? To help you cook?” Dream asked seeming almost cautious with his words.

“What are you gonna do? Come down here and cook in my kitchen?” Nick said laughing.

“I mean no.” Dream said also laughing. “But I can help walk you through it.” I mean it wasn't a terrible idea, Nick thought. he'd honestly got tired of eating the same thing day after day.

“Alright, sure but what am I gonna cook?” Nick said as he approached the produce aisle.

“How about you make soup? You said it was pouring right? Soup's best when it's cold and rainy.” Nick almost missed the fondness in Dreams voice.

“Alright, I'll grab a few cans.”

“Ohhhh   no. If I'm helping you, we're making it from scratch.”

“You're kidding…” Nick said in slight disbelief. Dream enjoyed cooking, that much was clear from some of the late-night chats they had over the past few years. It was something special he and his family would do together over weekends and holidays. While he’d boast about the meals they had, either over the complexity of the dish or the taste, Dream had never once offered to help cook. Not to anyone. Nick would have felt honored if only he could actually cook. The last time he’d made homemade soup he had an accident and burnt his hand. He was always so clumsy.

“I'm not.”

“All right but if I burn down the house it's your fault.” Dream’s laugh was warm and made Nick feel more at ease. “Ok Chef Dream what are we making?”

“Give me a second. Gotta look through that cookbook that my mom gave me last Christmas.” Nick heard shuffling on the other end of the line as he gazed over the tables of fruits and vegetables in varying shades of green and orange.

“I'm not even really a big fan of soup anyway,” Nick said shuffling his feet. “I feel like I'm eating water sometimes.”

“How about a bisque then?” Dream called somewhere further away from his phone; He must have put it down.

“I don't even know what that is…” Nick said truthfully.

“It's like soup but thicker.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“OK, I got something…” Dream replied his voice becoming clearer as he got closer to the phone. “How about we make tomato bisque?”

“Alright, just tell me what we need.”

“Where are you now? I'll tell you what you need from that section.”

“I’m looking at lettuce.”

“Alright smartass, get some tomatoes maybe eight, an onion, and a piece of garlic.”

“Eye eye captain,” Nick replied shuffling over to the table lined with a variety of different types of tomatoes.

“Oh! Add celery and basil to the list.”

“K I’m gettin’ tomattas. I assume you want…” Nick paused, flinching at the sudden wheezing laugh at the other end of the phone.

“Tomattas???!!!” Dream yelled through his laughter “I can’t, I can’t” His laughter sending him into a coughing fit.

*COUGH COUGH*

“Serves you right!” A smile almost reaching his eyes, Nick laughed along. For the first time in the last few weeks feeling content.

The rest of the grocery trip was uneventful. It was mainly filled with Dream complaining about his mother and sister fussing over him for the last week, about how sickly sweet Bad and Skeppy had been in voice calls, and about how George nearly burned down his house during his latest cooking stream. It felt great to talk about everything and nothing.

The conversation they had the night before had dissolved from some form of banter into 3 am types of talks. Where you ask why people have five fingers and if since wales use to have legs does that mean they have toes?

Finally, they were almost done with the shopping. The last thing they needed was some fresh ciabatta bread. Some time between getting spices and chicken stalk Dream had talked him into making a grilled cheese sandwich to go along with the soup.

And what’s a good sandwich without fresh bread?

As soon as Nick got close, he visibly relaxed taking in the sweet smell of wheat, flour, and sugar melding together to make that wondrous fresh bread smell. Sighing heavily. He was in heaven.

“You still with me?” Dream asked mildly concerned.

“Yeah, the bread just smells so good,” Nick admitted scanning the vast baskets filled with varying types of bread. His stomach growled at the smell.

Dreams airy laugh flooded through his earbuds causing Nick's cheeks to be dusted with a light pink.

“What I'm hungry!” Nick said laughing.

“Get your bread and get going then!” Dream managed to get out through his laughing fit.

“I already found the bread for the sandwich, but I really want to find the cream puffs.”

“Cream puffs?” Dream questioned.

“Yeah, this place makes these giant cream puffs that are the size of baseballs. I’ve been craving one all week.”

Nick grabbed what he needed stuffing the various size loaves into his basket before his eyes caught a pyramid of little boxes sat on the table. Upon closer inspection, he found that the boxes contained the prized giant cream puffs that he’d been thinking about all week.

Nick picked up one of the boxes and stared at the sugary treat, mouth nearly watering. He loved sweets; he just never got the chance to eat them.

“Boys shouldn’t eat sweets,” Nick remembers his mother saying. “If you eat them, you’ll grow fat.”

“I mean just look at you.” She’d say pointing an accusing finger at Nick. “You’ve already gained so much weight. How is your soulmate going to love you if you look like that?”

Out of habit, Nick looked down examining his stomach, frowning slightly. Had he gained weight? He hadn't checked in weeks.

“I'm only telling you this because I don’t want you to get hurt. I love you. You know that?” Nick knew his mother only told him that because she loved him. She just didn't want him to get hurt. Like she did.

Nick lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve. Nothing…

His stomach growled again, and he set the boxed puff back on the table.

“Zoning out because of the bread again?” Dream laughed.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Better get home then, so we can start cooking.”

“Yeah, roads are probably getting worse too,” Nick replied heading towards the checkout counter.

After checking out and racing to put the groceries in the truck. Nick arrived back in the driver's seat half soaked. The rain hadn’t let up while he was in the store and the parking lot had started to flood. His yard would be a swamp come morning.

“Hey! Did they have those cream puffs you wanted?” Nick had forgotten he was still on the phone. His stomach grumbled again. His lips tightened and his face was set at a frown.

Boys shouldn’t eat sweets…

“They did but I just remembered… I don’t like sweets.”

The way home was quiet with the only interruptions being the occasional crash of thunder or the slosh of water against the tires. Nick pulled into his driveway shutting off the aging truck with a click.

The silence continued as he made a couple of dashes out to the truck to grab as many groceries as he could carry. Nick was fully soaked now; clothes sticking to his skin in an uncomfortable manner.

“Hey… are you… doing alright?” Dream finally asked after he’d made his last trip out to the truck. Tone unreadable.

“Yeah, just kind of soaked,” Nick replied, heading to his room to change. He hung the hoodie to dry and balled his old jeans throwing them into the laundry basket.

“That’s not what I meant…” Nick knew exactly what he meant, and they were not having this conversation. Not today, he thought, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans.

“I’m fine,” Nick said hoping Dream would drop it.

“I can tell you're…” Dream started, concern lacing his voice.

“I’m FINE.” Nick said cutting him off.

Dream sighed heavily on the other side of the phone. “Alright. Alright. Let’s just make some soup.”

“I just got home...”

“Look there’s something going on and you won't tell me. AND on top of it, you haven’t eaten in 24 hours. You're going to eat.” Dream said firmly.

…

“Yes sir,” Nick replied with a mock salute. As he ventured back down the hallway, he grabbed one of the ridiculous T-shirts from the box in the living room. Throwing it on quickly, Nick jogged into the kitchen.

The kitchen was more like a hallway than a kitchen. A narrow space covered in worn wood cabinets and cheap new appliances. The counter was a hideous, brown and tan speckled, thing littered with varus small appliances that rarely ever saw use. A blender they’d gotten four Christmases ago, a mixer they got two before that, and a food processor still in its box.

“Ok, I need you to grab all the tomatoes and put them in a pot to boil.” Dream spoke his voice back to that unreadable tone.

“Got it,” Nick replied, carefully lifting a large pot into the sink, and filling it with water and their prized tomatoes.

“You know you can talk to me about…” Dream paused seeming unsure. ”Anything. Right?”

“I'm fine.”

“That’s not what I asked…” A pause followed, again unsure. “Sap.”

“mmh”

“Do you maybe… want to…” There’s that pause again. “Come visit?”

Well, that was… unexpected.

“Why are you asking me that?” Nick questioned as he sat down, waiting for the fruit to boil.

“I just figured you needed a break. I don’t know what all that’s going on...” Dream says, a chair squeaking in the background. “…and I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Dream added before Nick could cut him off again.

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I mean we’ve known each other, what eight years now?” Dream replied, the soft popping of fingers echoing from the phone. “I mean it's just a suggestion. I just thought I would offer. You don’t have to of course…”

Maybe visiting wouldn’t be so bad. At least it would get him away from this house.

“You’re rambling.” A Smile creeping onto Nick's face. “Maybe during the summer. You know school and shit.”

“I'll be scraping you off the pavement during the summer.” Dream laughed.

“I live in Texas remember. Our coolest temp in the summer is 95.”

“Right right I forgot you live in an inhos… inhopit… in… desolate wasteland.”

“It rains in Texas. Less you forget the torrential rain I just waded threw to get soup ingredients.”

“Must be that rain that only comes once a year.”

“Better than living in a glorified rainforest.”

“Go check your “TOMATA’S.”

“You're never going to let me live that down, are you?” Nick said getting up.

“Never. Now check the tomatoes with a fork.”

“I think they're done?” Nick said carefully poking the bursting fruit.

“Ok, you need to take them out, peel them, and core them.”

“Yowch!”

“Oh, don’t forget to let them cool down.”

“Dumbass.”

“At least I wasn’t the dumbass that touched boiling hot tomatoes.”

“Correction. You’re a smartass.”

They continued to bicker as Nick continued his prep work. Onion and celery making their way into the pot along with a hand full of spices and those pesky tomatoes.

“Ok... now what?” Nick asked peering into the pot with intrigue.

“You mentioned a few weeks ago you had an immersion blender; go grab that.”

“A what now?”

“The hand blender. The stick blender. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Oh!” Running towards the pantry cabinet, Nick skidded to a stop.

“Don’t hurt yourself!”

“I got it. I got it.” Nick replied, returning to the stove. Patting the unopened box as he approached.

“How long have you had that blender?”

“Three years? How do I use this thing?” Nick asked, pulling the device from the foam meant to protect it.

“Plug it in and turn it on.”

“Thanks, genius.”

“Welcome, sweet.”

A loud whirring sound filled the air as Nick stuck the blender in the steaming pot. Steam billowing from the hot ingredients mixing together.

“Ok now what?”

“You need to add in the heavy cream.”

Carefully, Nick poured in the cream. Deep crimson red turning a warm sunset orange as the cream intermixed with the tomato concoction. The mix of tomatoes, basil, and cream making a heavenly smell. Nick could have stayed there taking in the smell and the warmth from the… what did Dream call it? A bisque or something… Ah, who cared? The smell alone could have been considered a treasure and who was Nick to ignore such a delight.

“Hey, we need to make your sandwich before you nod off.”

Nick groaned. Cruel bastard.

“It will be better if it sits for a minute anyway.” Fondness seeping from Dreams tiring voice. He’d been doing that a lot today. Every word feeling as though Dream was smiling through it. Had it always been there?

Had they always talked like this?

Nick stilled for a moment. Had it…? Had he just never noticed how often? No… No, definitely not. Rain and lack of sleep were just making him imagine things.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Dream asked as Nick slathered the thick bread with butter. Pressing it into the hot pan with a satisfying sizzle.

“A bit of editing probably.” Maybe talk to you, Nick thought. The last couple of days made it seem like they were making up for time they’d lost. Intertwined at the hip. The week of separation seeming more like years. Part of Nick wondered if Dream felt the same. Part of him hoped he didn’t, and Nick couldn’t understand why he felt that way.

“Sooo...” Flip. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“We could do a stream together or something.”

“Always trying to overwork yourself.” That time, it was Nick's own fondness that caught him off guard.

Had he always talked that way? Maybe it HAD always been like this...

“Oh, you know me. The world never sleeps and neither do I.” Dream proclaimed in a confident voice. Nick wasn’t sure that was something to be proud of, but he laughed along anyway.

“Is it done yet? I’m dying to hear how it is. “Dream said, ever the impatient one. Idle drumming accompanying his warm voice.

“Just got done,” Nick replied carefully scooping up his sandwich and depositing it on a nearby plate. Then grabbing a chipping bowl from the cabinet to pour the still-warm soup into.

He made his way toward the kitchen table that was shrouded in the only light in the tiny space. Lighting having faded to a warm yellow as what little light from outside had long since left. As he sat, Nick could still hear the faint patter of rain outside the enormous bay windows. He hoped it would never stop.

Cautiously Nick picked up the newly formed sandwich and dipped it into the creamy tomato mixture. Sure, it smelled good but the taste was another matter. He’d made lots of other things that smelled great but tasted rancid.

Nick took an apprehensive bite.

It was…

It was…

…

Amazing.

It was honestly the best thing he’d ever eaten. At the very least the best thing he could remember eating. When was the last time he’d cooked? Or his mom? When was the last time they’d had anything that wasn’t fast food or canned stuff?

When was the last time he'd had dinner with someone else being there?

He couldn’t remember. Nick couldn’t remember his mother not complaining about cooking. She… complained about a lot of things. She’d probably complain about this too if she was here if he was being truthful.

Nick couldn’t tell if it was the taste or the whole day that led up to the food. Filled with emotions over fucking cream puffs of all things, comforting laughs, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Maybe it was both.

A second bite. Definitely both. Tears started to prick his eyes. Hand coming to his mouth trying to stave off the sob of… relief? Of calm? Of loss? Of…

“SOOOO how is it?!” Dream said excitedly. Nick could swear he could hear warmth and affection leaking through again. Maybe he wasn’t imagining it.

“Its… It's uh…” Tears streamed down his cheeks collecting themselves on the well-used tabletop. “Good… really good…”

“Glad you like it! Just what you needed.”--

It was around 11. Nick was on a call with Bad, Skeppy, and George. Dream had clocked out sometime around 8. Nick felt like he should have maybe left with him. Emotions and questions from earlier that night still swirling in his mind.

“AND this guy was standing outside, right?”

“Right?” Bad said a bit skeptical.

“What's so creepy about that?” Nick asked barely paying attention.

“I got off work at 9:45. Who walks around a closed mall at 9: 45 at night?”

“I don’t know maybe a vampire that likes taking walks?” George piped in.

“I mean yeah obviously.” Nick could imagine Skeppy’s eyes nearly rolling out of his head. “No, the guy was a creep.”

“So what happened?”

“I was getting to that. So, the guy was outside walking around and he had two big dogs with him. And remember Bad I told you about Todd.”

“Yeah, he’s scared of dogs.”

“Right so I went outside first to distract the dogs because Todd wouldn’t go out near them.”

“Yeah so? “

“Sooo the creep started talking to me about the dogs. Because the dogs were friendly, and I told Todd to just go around them and grab his car…”

“Why didn’t you just go to your car?” Bad interrupted, the worry in his voice was hard to miss.

“I parked in the back again.”

“I told you not to do that! You know how much I worry.” Bad said voice verging on a wine.

“Its habit. I forget. Anyway, so we started talking and he started walking towards me.”

“Oh god.”

“Bad stop or he’s never going to finish,” George said clearly trying to keep his friends on the subject.

To be fair, Nick had started to zone out by this point.

“ANYWAY, he started walking towards me talking about his dog and I backed up towards the curb. Luckily, that’s when Todd pulled up.”

“Did he ever say why he was out there?”

“Said something about having to get the raffles for the car contest.”

“That’s weird.”

“Like I said, a creep.”

Sometimes it was interesting hearing Skeppy and Bad talk about there days. Even if it was mainly Skeppy telling Bad that yes he had lunch, yes he remembered to lock his doors when he got home and yes he checked the backseat of his car with a flashlight. Nick wondered if him and his soulmate would be like this. Just talking about their days. Conversations filled with careful humms, bits of encouragement, and smiles that reached their eyes. It sounded nice.

It almost sounded like what he was thinking about earlier with Dream…

Nick shook his head.

Ridiculous.

Nick glanced at his arm. Somehow it hadn’t faded during the day. The “Hi” still bright and glaring even on his tanned skin.

Nothing.

“Sap”

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“Sapnap”

After all, it had only been two days.

“Hey Sap”

Years… it could take years. Maybe a lifetime.

“Earth to Sapnap”

Maybe Dreams would take a lifetime too.

“SAPNAP!” Bad yelled finally snapping Nick out of his trance. Apparently in the midst of his zone out George and Skeppy had signed off for the night. The only ones left on the call were him and Bad.

“Sorry zoned out for a second.”

“Everything alright?”

“Just got a lot on my mind.”

“I could lend an ear if you need it.”

“I’m not really sure how to explain what’s going on.” If his own brain couldn’t make sense of this mess. How could Bad’s?

“You can just talk about what you're thinking if you want? And I'll just listen.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m exhausted.” And overwhelmed.

“Ok let me know! Hope you have a good night!” Bad’s voice was almost too chipper for it being nearly midnight. Something about it was calming though. A sense of normalcy when the last two days had been anything but.

“Night Bad.”

That night Nick would fall asleep with intermixed lyrics of “If the world was ending” and “Promise” as his consciousness faded in and out. Thoughts of the day still plaguing his mind. However… those new headphones helped drown them out… at least for a little while.

Chapter Text

Instead of a sudden jolt of sound like the last two mornings, Nick wakes up that Saturday morning with the soft pleasant notes of a song playing. Must have fallen asleep listening to music he thinks absently. Nick lays there for a couple of minutes eyes half-lidded staring at his ceiling till the song starts to fade.

“Oh, when you call— me I'm driftin’ on clouds like I'm dreaming—. But in the mor—ning. I wake up and see that you're stuck- here with me.”

Nick grapples for his phone his tired hands having trouble gripping onto the smooth edge. No notifications. Maybe Dream isn’t up yet.

“If on-ly you knew what I would do for you… I'd jump up and hold you- so tightly-. But I will never be— able to do these things. So- I'm just left imag-in-ing.”

Nicks checks his arm when the song fades. Nothing. Grabbing ahold of his headphones he chucks them off. Startling both of his cats in the process.

Nick digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. Regret seeping into his thoughts. What the hell was he thinking?

He layed there awhile longer in the pitch-black room listening to the quiet drip of the rain outside. Some part of him hoped that the rain would never stop. That it would just continue until the house flooded. Swallowing him up with it. It certainly would be a lot easier than… whatever the hell this was.

A sharp ringing from his phone shocks Nick out of his daze.

Carefully Nick picks up his phone again looking at the caller ID. Speak of the devil; Dream was calling him. Nick let out a steady breath, preparing himself.

“Hey” He answered voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey” Dream echoed warmly. “How was the call last night?”

“Good” Nick replied trying to keep his answers short. If he didn’t his thoughts about the man in question would certainty spillover.

Wait… thoughts? Thought’s plural?

“What did you guys talk about?”

Why was Dream being so nosey? “You know stuff…”

Dream sighed. “You’re being so cryptic!”

“Am I?”

“YES! You always catch me up with the stories.”

Did he? Nick sat back staring at the ceiling again. Confusion causing his face to scrunch up in a distasteful way. He didn’t remember doing that…

But maybe… maybe it was like yesterday with noticing the fondness Dream carries in his voice while talking to Nick. Maybe it had always been that way?

“You there?” Dream asked. His voice echoing through the empty room.

“Yeah… sorry I zoned out there for a second. Skeppy was just talking about a creepy guy outside his work.”

“Oh really? Tell me about it.” So, Nick went into a lengthy recounting of the story from the night before. Dream only giving quite humms of acknowledgment as Nick spoke.

At some point, it turned into Nick rambling about school, about that one shitty teacher in biology, about the horrendous essay his English teacher assigned. It was nice.

Maybe that’s why he never remembered these mornings? Because the nice feeling of them just became too normal. Maybe it was because his memory was just awful? There were a lot of things he couldn’t remember. His childhood memories were essentially swiss cheese. Filled with enough holes that every memory was vague.

“Still there?” Dream asked, his voice bringing Nick back to the pitch-black room. He must have zoned out again. It was starting to be a regular occurrence.

“Yeah, just zoned out again.” Nick said laughing.

“You, ok? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Nick insisted but with that long pause afterword’s it seemed Dream wasn’t convinced.

“Hey… Have you… talked with your soulmate yet?” Well, that came out of left field.

“I haven't." Nick said pausing. Why would Dream ask about his soulmate? The man barely wanted to hear other people talk about soulmates and now he was asking about Nicks? Maybe someone else said something? “Did George say something to you?” George was the only person he could think might have said something.

“No, I was just curious. I haven't even had a full conversation with George in over a week, why? Did something happen?”

Nick pursed his lips. “They… My soulmate hasn’t replied.”

Dream was silent for a moment. Seems like these pauses were starting to become as regular as Nick’s zone outs. And Nick began to worry. Maybe he shouldn't have told him? After all, dream probably didn't want to hear about Nick complaining about not getting a reply from his soul mate for barely a day.

“Do you... Want to talk about it?” Dream said hesitantly.

“Dream I don't want to pressure you into talking about it.” Nick said honestly.

“I’m the one who asked Sap. You’ve been zoning out for the last few days and I’m worried.” Dream said his voice expressing the same sentiment. “Look if you're upset, we should talk about it. You'll feel better if you talk.”

“No... I just...”

“Just what? What do you need Sap?” What did he need?

“A… distraction…” Nick breathed out.

“A distraction?” Dream echoed. “I think… I think I can handle that.” Dream seemed like he wanted more answers out of Nick, which was obvious from the day prior. Nick, however, wasn't budging. The more Dream pushed, about the issue, the further Nick's heels dug in. “What are you planning on doing today?”

“I don’t know…” Nick said standing up fumbling around in his room looking for the light switch.

Dream laughed at the tiny curses that left Nick's mouth as he bumped into his desk. “You’re so DUMB just use your flashlight on your phone!”

“I'm perfectly fi- OW!” He’d run into his closet door. Dreams wheezing laugh filled the room.

However, when he finally found it, nothing happened when he flicked the switch. This was going to be a long day.

“Fuck.”

“Ran into your desk again?” Dream asked barely able to contain his laughter.

“Powers out. Which means I can’t do shit.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. The storm probably nocked it out last night and with our luck, the electric company won't have it back on till tonight.”

“Phone charged?”

“Uh, I got…” Nick squinted at the bright screen. “67% So I'm good on that. But now what do I do? I have no internet and no computer.”

“You got any old headphones you don’t care about?”

“Like working ones? Yeah… why?”

“Because I have an idea of what you can do today.”

This had to be one of the dumbest ideas Dream has ever had. And that’s saying a lot considering that when Dream was 16, he’d swam in a no swim zone and had nearly gotten eaten by a gater. Well, Dream hadn’t actually gotten that close to the alligator. And the alligator was only a juvenal, barely two feet long. But still, it was a stupid idea and so was this.

“I'm not taking my only working phone out into the rain to get soaked.” Nick said defiantly crossing his arms as if Dream could see him.

“I told you put it in a Ziplock, and it will be fine.” Nick rolled his eyes.

“And I told you that was a dumb idea, and it wouldn’t work.”

“Sap.” Dream spoke with... clarity? Or maybe with conviction? “Do you trust me?” The question sat heavy in the cool air of the kitchen.

“Of course.” With my life.

“Stick your phone in the Ziplock bag and head to the backyard.”

“Alright Dream, alright.” Nick went into the cabinet looking around until he found it. An old box of plastic bags, degraded from years of disuse. “You always win, don’t you?”

“I don’t.”

“Then how do you explain me always giving in to your hair-brained ideas?” Dream only chuckled in response.

Nick carefully slotted his phone into the plastic bag. Leaving just enough room in the seal to stick his old skull candies into his aging phone. “Alright, I’m ready. Heading outside.”

Nick wondered, as he exited the kitchen, when the last time he’d ran around in the rain was. It’d been years. More than a decade if he was honestly guessing.

The last time he’d remembered running around and dancing in the rain was when he was 6 maybe 7? Nick doesn’t remember a lot about his dad. His parents had gotten a divorce when he was 8. So, the few memories he has are blurry and messy in his head. Yet this one sticks out.

Nick and his dad were out in the warm summer rain running around stomping in puddles getting as wet and muddy as possible. Nick remembers his smile is wide and full of joy as he ran around jumping into a particularly large puddle. Somehow his dad's smile was wider still as he laughed along.

Nick doesn’t remember his eyes, the shape of his nose, or even how tall he was. But what Nick does remember is his hair being long enough to need to be tied up away from his neck, the way he use to hum as he cooked, and his laugh being as warm and comforting as the rain beating down on them.

Nick also vaguely remembers his mother coming outside and grabbing him by the arm. He doesn’t remember what she said. But he does remember the tone of her voice being something that was sickenly sweet. A tone she only used when she was upset with Nick. And her voice turning harsh and venomous when she turned to his dad.

Nick shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. Now was no time for reminiscing. Besides remembering wouldn’t bring his dad back. The years of silence had told him that.

Nick held his breath and stepped out from under the awning into the pouring rain. Water seeping through his thin clothes. Drenching him from head to toe. At first, it was just as cold as it was yesterday. Sending chills down his spine. However, as Nick continued trekking on further into the backyard, his body adjusted to the cold. Tall pecan trees towered overhead creating a slight cover over the ever-growing green of the grass. He’d heard once that pecan trees that big took decades to grow. How many other people had gone out into this very backyard in the pouring rain in that time? Probably none. Well at least none intentionally.

Once he was standing in the middle of the yard Nick was at a loss at what to do. “Ok now what?” Did Dream expect him to run around jumping in puddles as he listened to music?

“Headphones in?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you put on that playlist I sent you?”

“No, let me…” Nick fumbled trying to keep a grip on his phone. Finally, he found the link Dream sent him and set it to autoplay. “Ok done.”

“Ok set the song to “London air raids.””

“I just set it to auto it will be fine.”

“Nope set it.”

“You’re so needy.” Nick replies coyly. “Ok, it's playing.” Nick had listened to the song a few times before. It was one of those slower songs, one of the lulling ones he’d listen to in nights he couldn’t sleep. Peaceful and quiet.

“And we sit so close — in the dark-“It takes Nick a second to realize that it's not just the music he’s hearing. Dream’s singing.

“And we’re so close- to being torn apart. Every crash I can feel- in our foun-dation. It runs through my veins, and I hate the sen-sation.” Dream sang his voice strong and consistent even though the cheap headphones.

“But I know that I’m safe here with you. Cause we made it through every-thing the old and the new. Just wake me up when all of this is over. Wake me up and tell me it's not true-.” The piano hits and Nick starts to feel a twist in his stomach. What’s he’s supposed to do?

“Together Sap.” Nick almost misses it. It's said so quiet, so soft that the music almost drowns it out. Almost.

“My sweet love, watch the air raids; as the streets of Lon-don are not safe-.” Nick joins in. His voice isn’t as confident, isn’t as strong, isn’t as clear, and like Dreams spoken words almost get drowned out. But… But Dream must have heard him because his enthusiasm has picked up. Nick can hear it in Dream’s voice as he sings. He’s happy.

“Now I wish we could escape as the beat of the drum keeps on its play. And I long to feel the rain on my face! So, I wait, I want the bombs to fade away.” Maybe happiness was contagious? That must be it.

At some point, Nick had started spinning around grinning like an idiot while he and Dream sang at the top of their lungs. Who knows how long they stayed out there. It could have been 2 hours or 30 short minutes. Nick didn’t care. This was the most fun he’d had in weeks.

"What a day. My heart is full of butterflies. There's no disguising how I feel, whenever I'm with you." Nick sang laughing.

"I've waited till the mo-ments right to look into those starry eyes and say the words that I'm thinkin all the time!" Dream sang back laughing as well.

"oh, I do, I do, I do I love you! oh I do, I do, I do I love you!" They sang together Dreams honey-sweet voice mixing with Nick's own brass voice creating a wonderous melody in the little world they'd carved out in the rain.

"With all my heart I love you, dear, I do."

Nick could've sworn his smile couldn't have gotten any bigger.

Spinning around in the pouring rain singing along at the top of his lungs. Arms and legs dulled from the rain. hair plastered to his face. Hands starting to wrinkle. Eyes wide with wonder. I must look ridiculous, Nick thought.

The thing was... For once he didn't care. For once he didn't care what other people thought of him. it was freeing. It was exciting. It was fun.

And it all felt so right.

That’s when it hit him. Like a semi crashing through his ribcage. Nick stopped, his hands on his knees as his breaths got heavier. His eyes wide and locked on his mud-covered shoes.

Was this… Surely it couldn’t be. Surely, he couldn’t be…

“SAP?!” Dream yelled voice crackling through the poor speakers.

“I'm here.” Nick breathed. His breaths slowing to a normal rate.

“I'm here. I'm ok.” He wasn’t…

“So” Bad breathed, seeming unsure.

“So” Nick breathed nerves threatening to strangle him.

“Sap”

“Sorry, it's just… so confusing. I’m overwhelmed.” Nick's arms coming to sit on his chest. After what had happened in the rain earlier Nick had sent Bad a message saying that he was ready to talk.

“Well… why don’t you start from the beginning.”

Nick told Bad about the feelings he had towards his soulmate. About how he’d waited a few days but had only gotten radio silence. About how he didn’t understand why he was upset about his soulmate abandoning him.

“Abandoning?” Bad questioned.

“Well yeah. I haven’t heard anything or seen anything. They’ve left me.” Nick said as though it was obvious.

“Sap how can they abandon you if they don’t know you exist?” Bad asked his voice level as ever.

“You don’t know that…”

“And you don’t know that they do.” Bad countered.

He had Nick there. There was no guarantee that his soulmate had even seen his writing.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, however, whispered a sickly-sweet voice.

You know they’ve seen it. They just don’t want you. They’ve abandoned you, just like Dad. See mother was right. Mother’s always right…

“Sap? You still there?” Bad asked concerned.

“Yeah, yeah” Nick replied curling in further on himself. Practically rolling up in a ball in his computer chair.

There was a pause… What was with Dream and Bad with these dam pauses?! It's like they're in cahoots with each other.

“Sap it's ok.” Bad finally said. “It's ok to be upset that they haven’t responded. Just because they haven’t doesn’t mean they won't.”

Nick didn’t respond.

“It took me a couple of years. And... and you know I was sad and angry the first few months. But it gets better…”

“YOU KNOW MAYBE I DON’T WANT THEM TO ANSWER!” Nick yelled, his nails gripping his well-covered knees. Body rigid from tension. His face freezing at the anguish. He wanted to cry.

Pause.

“Whys that?”

“Wha… what?” Nick asked not able to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Why do you not want them to respond?”

“I… I uh…” Nick swallowed finding the action difficult.

“You seem like you want to hear from them. You check your arm constantly. And while you didn’t write poetry for your first message. YOU wrote to them. If you didn’t want a response, why write at all?” Bad’s voice beckoned, returning back to that kind and understanding tone.

“I don’t… I uh” Nick didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.” He finally settled on.

A quiet humm.

“It's fine if you don’t know now.” Bad said, pausing again. Seemingly trying to find the right words. “But you’ll need to do some self-reflecting.”

“Self-reflecting?” Nick's posture relaxing slightly as his face twisted in a look of confusion.

Another quite humm.

“Yeah, to figure out why you simultaneously want to talk to your soulmate and never want to talk to them. That’s not healthy. You’ll wear yourself out with all that conflict.”

Nick unconsciously yawned.

“See? Now as for Dream…” Bad said, his pauses starting to get as regular as Dreams. “What do you think is going on? Because I have a hunch.”

Nick perked up at that. Bad knew? Well maybe he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he had an idea which was more than what Nick had.

“You know I don’t know…” The voice in his head is back with a vengeance. You know, you just don’t want to admit it, the voice taunts.

“Not even an idea?” Bad pushed.

“I mean…” Nick's brow furrowed. “I know SOMETHING’S different.”

“Yeah?” Bad encouraged.

“I'm noticing things that I never did before…”

“Like what? Give me an example.”

“Like… Like… I don’t know. How he sounds?”

“What’s different about how he sounds?”

“You’ll think it's dumb.” Nick said curling back in.

“Promise I won't.”

…

“He sounds like he’s smiling all the time when we’re talking. Like he’s happy? No… overjoyed to talk to me.”

“Yeah? Anything else?

“I feel like he’s going out of his way to do stuff for me and spend time with me. Like the fact he bribed George to find out what kind of headphones I wanted or that he spent three hours on the phone with me making soup. I mean just today we spent 2 hours singing on the phone with each other.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“Desperately.” Nick pleaded.

“I think…”

“Yeah?”

“You love him.”

“Bad, he’s my best friend. Of course, I love him. Same as you and George. Y'all are practically family.” Nick replied. A voice in the back of his head nearly screaming at him it wasn’t the same.

“Sapnap that’s not the kind of love I'm talking about.”

…

“Look I can't tell you how you feel.” Bad continued. Voice somehow after everything was still as level and patient as when they began. “But I can tell you from experience that what you just described was love. That special kind that’s reserved for a select few.”

“From experience?”

“Well yeah. You didn’t think that Skeppy and I just fell in love the first time we talked, did you?”

“NO!”

…He kinda did…

“Anyway… I can only point you in the right direction. You need to take a good look at yours and Dream's relationship. Maybe have a conversation about that. Who knows he might feel the same.”

“What about the whole soulmate thing? Wouldn’t that ruin that whole in love with Dream idea?”

“You sure he’s not your soulmate?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Did you ask?”

…

“I’ll take that as a no. Well, that’s also something you should bring up. Maybe it’s a two birds one stone kinda problem. Either way, I want you to remember that no matter what happens I will support you one hundred percent.”

“Thanks, Bad”

Nick smiled and uncurled slightly from his position in the chair. His muscles relaxing as he did. The conversation had been stressful, but it was well needed.

“You’re welcome Sap…”

Suddenly Bad was cut off by a scream.

“NICHOLAS!”

It was his mother. She’d come home early…

“NICHOLAS!”

Oh god…

“Sapnap is everything ok?”

Nick realized far too late that his throat had closed up. Lungs unable to get air. He felt like he was drowning. A crushing feeling in his chest taking hold. He wanted to run. To escape. He couldn’t. His body wouldn’t move.

“Sapnap, you need to breathe.”

How could he? How could he when she was here? Oh god, she’s home! That means if he wasn’t in the other room in seconds, she’d barge into his room. She’d be even angrier.

“NICHOLAS!”

The thoughts sent his breathing into overdrive. If he thought, he couldn’t breathe before now it was as if he was truly suffocating.

“Sap I need you to count with me so you can breathe! Sap answer me please!”

“NICHOLAS WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”

Nick barely got out that he had to go; lack of air taking its toll on his already tired voice. Bad’s desperate pleas to stay on discord abruptly stopping as Nick shut off his computer.

Nick's hands began to shake as he made his way down the hall. Lungs burning. Muscles screaming.

“NICHOLAS!”

Nick rounded the corner to the kitchen. As he did, he caught a glimpse of his mother's eyes.

They’d changed.

Chapter Text

He isn’t sure when the burning sensation on his skin started. Maybe it was the quiet good mornings or the strained but welcomed good nights. Maybe it was the loud but deep laughter at two a.m. or the strangled sounds of crying at 10 a.m. Maybe it was all of it. Clay wasn’t sure when it started, but he remembers the first time he noticed.

It’s a chilly night in November. Clay is a scrawny 17-year-old with too many freckles and a pension for cutting his hair too short. He’s driving back from his aunt's house in New Jersey. Trying desperately to get back home before his older sister leaves to go out of state for the next year. He’s speeding around corners on old country roads that are littered with potholes and rolling through as many stop signs as he can manage.

To keep him awake Clay had called Sapnap. He knew that Sapnap’s sleep schedule was terrible, at best, and that the younger would be up probably playing video games late into the night. So, Clay wasn’t surprised that Sapnap picked up the phone around 11. They’d been talking an hour or so when it happened. So sudden… So quick… he almost missed it. Almost.

“Have you ever thought about what your soulmate will be like?”

Clay shifted in his seat trying to stave off stopping to stretch. He’d thought off and on about his soulmate the past year or so. How could he not? His 18th birthday was only nine months away. And sure, he’d thought of what they might be like. That was something he’d done since he was little.

He had an image in the back of his mind of what they’d be. A girl, probably, with platinum blond hair just past her shoulders tied in a loose ponytail. Warm brown eyes that would remind him of swirling caramel. Nose tiny and upturned. She’d be shorter than him, most likely, so he’d have to lean down to kiss her. She probably wouldn’t like video games or coding, with his luck, but that was ok. There’d be something they’d bond over.

“Bet they’ll fall in love with George over me.” Clay laughed with Sapnap joining in, their voices warm. Laughter filling every crevasse of the now dark car.

“I hope my soulmates like this.” Sapnap commented quietly voice strained after laughing so hard.

“Like what?” Clay asked voice breathless as he came down from his own laughing fit.

“I don’t know… like this. Like us talking. Like you.” Dream froze. Eyes fixed on an ever-darkening, winding road. The only light coming from the cars aging headlights.

Suddenly, Clay was all too aware of the background sounds drifting out of his phone speakers. Sapnap's quiet but even breaths, the way Sapnap’s bed would creak loudly at any movement, and the subtle sound of the shifting of bed sheets. Was he in bed when Clay had called?

He must have…

Sapnap had stayed up for him.

“You there? Hope you didn’t just crash.” Sapnap continued laughing slightly, snaping Clay out of his daze.

“I'm good. There was uh…” Come on think of something…” An opossum in the road.”

“Oh, shit… did it hiss at you?” Sapnap said his voice soft and… what was the word?

…

Drowsy, he realized, from lack of sleep.

“I’m not sure.” He lied hoping Sapnap would drop it. They continued on for another half hour or so, but a question crept into the back of Clay's mind. And if Clay was anything it was impulsive.

“Why would you want a soulmate that’s like me?” The question hung heavy in the air. After all, Clay wasn’t exactly perfect soulmate material.

“Huh?”

“Why… uh.” Clay fumbled. This shouldn’t be this difficult.” Like what about me would uh- be good for a soulmate for you?” God this was awkward.

“Um,” Sapnap seemed lost for words, creating a deafening silence in the beat-up car. “I'm not sure…” He said finally. “I mean there’s nothing specific. But I wouldn’t mind just this.” Sapnap must be gesturing between him and the phone. “You know just… what we’ve got. I mean haven’t you thought about if soulmates were just… like this. I don’t know my soulmate, but I doubt id be as comfortable as I am with you.”

The image of Sapnap laying on his bed crept into Clay's mind. The bed well worn and creaking. The walls old and cracked. And there in the middle was Sapnap. Trying desperately to fight off sleep just to stay on the call with him. His hair was probably tied back in a small ponytail. Sapnap had mentioned that it had gotten too long to keep down even during the winter. Clay imagined Sapnap’s nose scrunched up, forming small smile lines on his cheeks. Barely able to keep his eyes open. With a fond smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes accompanying it. Face flush from the tips of his ears to his nose. Suddenly the white Toyota felt all too small and suffocating. Everything began to burn. His bones, his muscles, his skin, even his blood. It was like he was engulfed in an inferno.

Clay had to stop the car on the side of the road; he couldn’t think. His mind flooded by the image of Sapnap talking with him in an empty house somewhere in Texas. Leaving the car running; Clay practically leapt out of the car hoping the cool November air would stop the fire spreading all over him. When it didn’t, he started pacing hoping the calm monotonous motion would soothe his nerves.

Sapnap continued talking; maybe he’d caught on that Clay needed some kind of distraction. As Clay paced and Sapnap talked the image he’d built oh so long ago of his soulmate started to shift. It was all so… so… scary and confusing. But Clay didn’t have time to waste. He had to be back in Florida in ten hours and he still had two states to drive through.

Over the years Clay had come to accept what this overwhelming burning was. It was quite simple really. He was in love with his best friend. There was just one problem. Well, two actually. They both had soulmates.

Now, this wouldn’t be a problem if they were in fact soulmates. But after checking the morning of March 1st and finding nothing. That quickly nixed that idea. So, what could Clay do?

Absolutely nothing. Which is how he spent WEEKS deciding what to get Sap for his birthday. It was fine, Clay reasoned. Just friends bought birthday presents too. Sure, maybe not as much. And he might have had to sell his soul to George, to get all the info he needed, but it was worth it to hear the gratitude and warmth coming from Sapnap’s tired voice.

The next couple of days weren’t as great. While Sapnap was still… well Sapnap. Something was wrong. Clay could feel it in his gut. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it his gut was rarely wrong these days.

Clay had first noticed it when he’d brought up those cream puffs that Sap had seemed so excited about.

“They did but I just remembered… I don’t like sweets.”

This set off alarm bells. The way Sapnap had talked about them implied that he had at LEAST tried them. This made no sense. This was coming from a man that had about 15 different favorite candies after all. So, he’d asked when Sapnap had gotten back from grabbing all his groceries from the car. Testing the waters to see just how upset Sap was.

“Yeah, just kind of soaked,” Ok, so it was going to be like this.

“That’s not what I meant…” Clay started but Sapnap cut him off. “I’m fine,” Obviously not. Anyone could see that.

“I can tell you're…” Clay started again but Sap cut him off once more.

“I’m FINE.” Sapnap could be so stubborn sometimes. Even if all Clay was trying to do was to help. There would be no winning in this conversation. Not for either of them.

“Alright. Alright. Let’s just make some soup.” Clay replied, conceding. He didn’t know what was bothering his friend but whatever it was, it was serious. If Sapnap wouldn’t talk about it now, then Clay would just have to wait and make him as comfortable as he could. Then maybe he’d tell him.

“I just got home...” Sap complained. Oh, they weren’t doing this. Just because he was conceding about the whole mood thing Sapnap had been in all day; didn’t mean Clay was giving up on making sure he ate.

“Look there’s something going on and you won't tell me. AND on top of it, you haven’t eaten in 24 hours. You're going to eat.” Clay said firmly, hoping Sapnap would at least consider it.

“Yes sir,” Sapnap replied voice almost strained. Clay felt his blood scorch his veins.

“Ok, I need you to grab all the tomatoes and put them in a pot to boil.” Clay said once Sapnap had reached his kitchen.

“Got it,” Clay could hear the harsh clang of pots. One of which got dropped rather roughly into the sink.

“You know you can talk to me about…” Clay said testing the waters again.” Anything. Right?”

“I'm fine.” Sapnap replied curtly. It was frustrating not being able to help. Clay almost wanted to scream but that certainly wouldn’t help.

“That’s not what I asked…” Clay said shoulders tensing. Maybe he should ask now? Maybe now was the time. After all, Sapnap's home life didn’t seem to be doing him any favors. “Sap.”

“mmh” Clay felt like his soul was going to burst into flames. It was like it was that night in November again. The cold dark road contrasting against his own body that felt like the sun had engulfed him.

“Do you maybe… want to…” Clay paused unsure. “Come visit?”

It’d been a spur of the moment. Sure, they’d talked about it off and on threw out their 8-year friendship, but nothing ever stuck.

“Why are you asking me that?” Sapnap questioned, the small squeak of a chair sounding off in the background.

“I just figured you needed a break. I don’t know what all that’s going on...” Clay replies, his own chair giving its own sympathetic squeak. Part of it was desperation. What else could he do? “…and I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Clay tacked on before Sapnap could cut him off again.

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I mean we’ve known each other, what eight years now?” Clay continued, starting to pop his joints in a soothing manner. The soft pops were always a comfort during stressful situations. “I mean it's just a suggestion. I just thought I would offer. You don’t have too of course…”

“You’re rambling.” The smile was creeping back into Sapnap’s voice and honestly… it was the best thing he’d heard all day. “Maybe during the summer. You know school and shit.”

The rest of the night went smoothly as if the whole previous conversation had never happened. Part of Clay was relieved that Sapnap was having a good time but what would happen when he wasn’t there? Something had happened. Eventually, it would all come to the surface and Sapnap having to deal with that while in an empty house was terrifying to Clay. His mind raced with all the possible outcomes.

Seconds slipping into minutes which spun into hours.

2 hours. That’s how much sleep he’d gotten. 2 whole fucking hours. To say that Clay was exhausted was an understatement. But with hours upon hours, he’d spent in his own head yesterday he wasn’t going to let Sapnap into that headspace. Whatever he could do Clay hopped… prayed it was enough.

It started with something that Clay considered normal. Practically routine. Whenever one of them couldn’t be on calls the other would fill them in on what got talked about. While Sapnap seemed confused at first once he got to talking everything flowed easily. At least until Sapnap’s voice slowly drifted off into silence. Clay checked his phone; the call was still connected.

“Still there?” He beckoned hearing a sharp exhale in response.

“Yeah, just zoned out again.” Sapnap laughed but it felt off.

“You, ok? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Clay was trying to coax Sap. Carefully tiptoeing threw the minefield.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Sapnap replied but now his lies had become blatant. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. But what on earth was bothering… Oh. Oh… maybe it was…

“Hey… Have you… talked with your soulmate yet?” Clay forced out; his body tensed. Every part of him dreaded the answer. No matter what the answer was… it would BURN.

“I haven't." His chest felt like it’d been charred by the fire. Brittle and ready to crumble. “Did George say something to you?” George? What did George have to do with this?

“No, I was just curious. I haven't even had a full conversation with George in over a week, why?” Had Sapnap and George talked about his soulmate or something? “Did something happen?” Clay knew he was treading into deep waters the more he pressed.

“They… My soulmate hasn’t replied.”

…

Ah, that was it. Sapnap had written to his soulmate… but they hadn’t replied. It all made sense now. It was as if the fog had lifted for a brief moment and Clay was seeing clearly for the first time in a few days.

“Do you... Want to talk about it?” Clay tried again. Maybe today. Maybe…

“Dream I don't want to pressure you into talking about it.” That was progress. It was definitely better than an I'm fine.

Progress…

“I’m the one who asked Sap. You’ve been zoning out for the last few days and I’m worried.” Clay answered honestly. The burning against his skin had subsided and a cool sensation of the murky waters they were treading replaced it. Quickly becoming frigid. “Look if you're upset, we should talk about it. You'll feel better if you talk.”

“No... I just...” Sapnap stumbled. His voice told Clay he was on the verge of tears. The water was at their necks. Threatening to swallow them up.

“Just what? What do you need Sap?” Clay pleaded.

“A… distraction…” Sapnap breathed out.

“A distraction?” Clay echoed. “I think… I think I can handle that.” The water had completely receded. There was no burning from his veins there was no cold from a deep ocean, there was nothing. Sapnap had pulled back. And all Clay was left with was nothing. That was worse.

The burning returned. It always did, but it was much less intense. Even when they were singing together, even when Sapnap was laughing so much he could barely breathe, even when with hoarse voices they said their goodbyes. The whole day felt muted.

If Clay would have stayed awake that night, he would have agonized over where he went wrong. What he said that made Sapnap pull back. They’d been so close… close to what?

He didn’t know.

Maybe it was by luck then that Clay fell asleep as soon as his head hit his mattress. He was mentally and physically exhausted.

Clay awoke the next morning thanks to a thud in his kitchen. He stretched, his bones making that satisfying popping sound. Glancing around his eyes landed on his discarded phone setting precariously on the bedside table. Grabbing his phone Clay was somewhat surprised to see that Sapnap hadn’t messaged him good morning. After all, it would be… what? 8? in Texas with the time difference. Ah well, maybe Sap was sleeping in again. With how stressed he’d seemed maybe a few extra hours would be good for him.

Clay sent Sapnap a quick “Good morning PANDAS!” as he made his way down the hallway. Noting that the bathroom door was closed as he passed.

Reaching the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised to see his sister sitting quietly at the island counter. Her face scrunched up in concentration as she stared at her phone.

“You’re here early.” Clay commented roughly running his hands through her hair as he passed by.

“Hey!” She squeaked glaring at Clay with fake malice. “Mom wanted to get that ice cream maker out of your guest room.”

“Bout that time of the year huh?” Clay continued smiling lightly. Opening the fridge, he groaned. The amount of orange juice had increased again. With two new bottles nestled neatly in the side panel of the refrigerator door.

“Oh, and bring over some orange juice.” His sister said with a smirk.

“If she keeps bringing me orange juice I’m going to turn into an orange!” Clay grumbled as he poured himself some juice. This sent his sister into a burst of wheezing laughter. Had to get rid of it somehow. Could cats drink orange juice? Clay glanced at Patches who was staring intently at him from the floor. He held the glass out as if to ask, ‘do you want some?’. Patches sniffed it and turned her nose up. Guess not…

“Hey what did you write to your soulmate this time?”

Clay paused. “Huh?” He questioned looking at her.

“Your arm.” She said pointing to his left. “Whatcha write this time a poem?” She laughed. What was she talking about?

But Clay couldn’t laugh. He could barely breathe. Because the last time he’d written had been weeks ago. Whatever the writing was it was from his soulmate. A sense of joy overtook him. They’d written! After years… Finally.

As Clay looked at his arm however he was… confused. In black, block, lettering was an address and a phone number with an area code he didn’t recognize. Why would they…?

Then it hit him.

Clay's hands flew to his pocket trying to wrangle his phone away from the dingy cloth. His sister is saying something, but he can't hear her over the noise. His focus is on looking up the address marked boldly on his arm. He hopes his memory has failed him and he’s wrong.

…

The address was for an emergency room in Dallas… He felt like he was going to puke…

“Hey…” Clay nearly jumped, jolted by the sudden touch to his shoulder. “You, ok? What’s wrong?”

“My uh…” Clay couldn’t form the words. He held out his arm in an attempt to explain. His sister, rightfully, gave him a look of confusion. Her brows furrowing and eyes squinting at the dark text.

That was until a look of realization and horror replaced it.

Whenever your soulmate was involved with life-threatening situations the first responder on the scene would write the address of the hospital or police station they were being taken to as well as the phone number. Blue meant police were involved and generally meant your soulmate was getting arrested or brought in for questioning. Red was for the fire department most often this meant your soulmate's house or car had caught fire. Green was for an ambulance which meant car crashes, heart attacks, and such.

Black was for the hospitals. They only ever wrote it down if it was truly serious. Like if your soulmate was… dying…

His soulmate was dying, and he hadn’t even spoken to them.

Or…

Maybe they had…

Clay glanced down at his arm franticly looking for a sign of anything… and there. Right near the crook of his elbow. Was a “Hi” written in badly faded red sharpie…

How… how had he missed it?

“I missed it- “Clay said his breaths starting to up in frequency.

“It's not your fault- “His sister tried but it was useless. His mind was already running.

“If I hadn’t missed it, they’d be fine- “Clay continued. His breaths becoming erratic.

“You don’t know that.” She tried again but Clay couldn’t hear her. His breaths were now more like desperate gasps for air. He felt like his lungs were filling with liquid. He needed to get out of the kitchen.

It was suffocating him.

Sucking every last bit of air out of him. But his legs wouldn’t move; it was like he was sinking in tar. Every step he took was difficult and even after he managed to get out of the kitchen the feeling of suffocation didn’t stop. He was drowning in the open air.

A steady hand grabbed a hold of his shoulder. It was grounding. There was a soft but firm circle motion that accompanied it. It was comforting.

The world began to come back into focus. He was standing in the middle of the living room. A new plush couch to his left and a well-worn leather chair to his right. Knickknacks were carefully piled on varnished shelves. An old lamp from his grandparent's house sitting on a side table. And under his bare feet was the new rug he’d bought not two weeks ago. Everything was as it was earlier. It stabilized him.

“Clay… honey… you with me?” It was his mother's voice. Had to be after all his sister was still standing stunned in the kitchen.

Clay swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. “Yeah- I- im- “He tried.

“It's ok. It's ok.”

It wasn’t. Nothing was ok.

“I’m here sweety everything will be ok.” All he could do was cling to her like a lifeline and cry.

It was 4 in the afternoon with no sign from his soulmate. Clay had done his due diligence and had written a shaky “are you ok?” near his wrist. But still nothing.

The whole day had been exhausting. After his panic attack this morning, he’d talked with his mother and sister for the better part of four hours. And while he loved them both the whole ordeal was stressful and their constant tiptoeing around the subject started to grade after a while. So, to say Clay was relieved when they went home, with a promise to check in by phone, would be an understatement.

Clay felt like crawling into his bed and not coming out until Patches became president, or the world ended. Whatever came first.

His phone buzzed. Probably from Sapnap. The duffus must have finally checked his phone. Well, if nothing else Sap would be a welcomed distraction from this mess.

Grabbing his phone off the end of the couch Clay squinted at the screen. The message wasn’t from Sapnap. Instead, it was from George. ‘Hey, I know you’ve been offline all day but has Sapnap talked to you? Bad mentioned something happened on call last night and no ones heard from him.’

Clays brow furrowed. Something happened on call last night? There were other notifications from other people in the discord group asking if he’d heard from Sapnap. Which was just bizarre. It wasn’t uncommon for people in the group not to be on for days at a time. Hell, Punz showed up maybe once or twice a week. And while it was unusual for Sap not to be on it wasn’t unheard of. A couple of times a year Sap would disappear for a week or two with no explanation and would come back acting like nothing had happened.

But the more he read through the messages the more concerned he got. He’d have to ask either Bad or George about it. They were probably just overreacting. Sapnap would be back smiling and laughing within a week or two.

He would be fine. Sapnap probably just got mad about something. He’d be back.

…

Or maybe he got frustrated or irritated at someone. He’d be back.

…

He’d be back.

…

But something had been bothering Sapnap for the last three days or so. Maybe that was it? Even so he’d be back.

…

Clay checked his messages. There was non from Sapnap…

…

He’d be fine. He always was.

…

A sharp ringing sound radiated through the silence of the empty house. It was George.

Clay steadied himself. It was just George; everything would be fine. He was ok. Everything is fine and normal and-

“Hey, you there?” SHIT. He’d answered the phone.

“Yeah, sorry. Mind is wondering a bit.” Clay replied hoping George wouldn’t see through it. “What’s up?”

“Did you see the message I sent you earlier?” George questioned. If he noticed Clay's nervous energy, it went unmentioned.

“About Sap? Yeah, I just looked at it. What happened?”

“Apparently he was on a call with Bad. Everything was fine until- “

“Until?”

“Well according to Bad, someone started yelling about something in the background. He couldn’t hear what it was apparently.” What? That didn’t make any sense…

“But Saps mom was gone on a business trip.” Clay answered. He was starting to panic again. He had to sit down.

“His mom was gone?”

“Yeah, he told me she’d be gone a few days.” The night of his birthday. She left the night of his birthday. Had she come back early? But even if she had, why would she have been screaming at him?

“I wonder who was screaming then?” George questioned.

“No idea. But what happened on the call after the other person started screaming?” It wasn’t uncommon, especially when all of them were living with their parents, for someone to start yelling about chores and such. So maybe it was nothing.

“Well, Sap started hyperventilating and Bad tried to calm him down. You know. And keep him on the call but Sap ended the call. We’ve all messaged him but haven’t gotten an answer. The way Bad described it, Sapnap sounded scared.”

What…

Maybe… that’s why he was acting weird the last few days? Oh god…

*Pop* *Crack*

He needed to calm down. Surely everything would be fine. Sapnap would send them a message saying that everything was fine, and she was just yelling at him to do the dishes. Everything would be fine.

“I’m sure it was nothing. Surely someone would have messaged us if something was wrong.” Clay tried to reason.

“They didn’t message us when he broke his leg and had to be hospitalized a couple of years ago.”

“Yeah…”

“And they didn’t tell us he was deathly sick. Do you remember? He was so sick, you and Bad were about to raise hell going down there to see why no one was taking care of him.” George had a point there.

“And you thought either he’d message me, or his family would message me over you guys?”

*Pop* *Crack*

“You know he would. I know he would. The whole dam county knows he would. Hell wouldn’t surprise me if someone on the space station knew.”

“Oh, come on George…” *Pop* *Crack*

“I’m serious. This whole nonsense with you two tiptoeing around the most obvious mutual pining mankind has ever seen. Has got to stop. I bet you sent him a good morning text.”

“I might have- “Every morning when Sapnap didn’t send one first.

“I know you did. I’m also willing to bet you guys have been talking non-stop the last few days because you were sick for a week.” Clay sucked in a breath to interrupt but George was quicker. “Don’t even try to lie. You’ve both been in call together every time I’ve checked discord all weekend.”

Clay clamped his mouth shut. It was true they’d been on long calls all weekend. Clay sighed. George and him had this same conversation a month ago. George was the only person he’d told about the whole being in love with best friend thing. Though according to George, it was obvious to everyone.

“Just because we talk a decent amount doesn’t mean anything.” He’d promised George that he’d either tell Sapnap or pull back and give them both some breathing room. He hadn’t done either one.

“Oh really?” George questioned. If his face cam was on, his eyebrows would be raised, and his arms would be crossed in a disapproving manner. “Then tell me honestly that he wasn’t checking up on you while you were sick.”

…

George had him there.

“That’s what I thought. Look I realize that you're scared- “George didn’t know the half of it.

“He’s not my soulmate.” That would shut him up.

A beat.

“You sure?” George asked an unsure tone creeping into his voice.

“George, I checked my dam arm on his birthday. Besides- “

“Besides what?”

“My soulmates in the hospital.” Clay said. He was trying not to get upset again. And failing quite badly.

“Wha-t?!”

“I have the address of an emergency room on my arm. I’m not sure when it was written. My uh- “Breathe, Clay, breathe. “Soulmate tried to uh- contact me. I- I uh did- didn’t see it.”

They’d be fine if he would have just responded. It's his fault. All of this. Even with Sapnap. He should have pushed, he should have demanded to know what was wrong, he should have…

“Jesus. What a day this has been. Alright, Dream I need you to calm down. The hospitals write information down for soulmates for all sorts of procedures.” George said, interrupting Clay's self-destructive thoughts. “I mean remember when I fractured my wrist a couple of years ago?”

“Ye-ah uh you broke it when you fell off that ladder.” George had been pissed when it happened. Complaining on end as Sapnap and Clay laughed at their friend's misery. ‘It's not funny!’ George complained. But it was, he fell off a 3-foot ladder and broke his wrist because of a bat.

“How I broke it isn’t important.” George said clearly hoping not to bring up the bat. “They wrote down the hospital address and telephone even though it was only a minor surgery.”

“They did?” The last time Clay had seen anyone with the black text it was his mother when…

“They did. You asked your soulmate if they were ok right?”

“I- I uh did but they haven’t replied.” George muttered something which sounded suspiciously like ‘and you're telling me they’re not soulmates.’ He must be pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ok,” George started like he was talking to a child. Which if you asked Clay's mother's opinion, she’d say he was. “Like I told Sapnap a few days ago you need to be patient. Have you checked lately?”

“I’ve tried not to.” He hadn’t. In all honesty, he was scared too.

“Well go on and check.”

There wouldn’t be anything there. He’d checked… When was the last time he’d checked? Probably when his mom and sister left. Which would have been, maybe, an hour ago if he was guessing glancing at the time on his phone. It wasn’t impossible just improbable. If they’d had surgery they’d be out for a while. Hours, maybe days…

…

Clay was stunned. By some miracle, by some unspoken truth. His soulmate had finally replied. He needed to talk with George more often.

‘Sorry that this had to be our first conversation’ it read in the same bright red sharpie that the hi had been written in. ‘I fractured my ankle dropped a pan on it.’ A pan? How the hell did they manage to break their ankle with a pan? Sure, maybe, your foot if the thing was cast iron. But just your ankle?

“They replied.” Clay muttered with confusion heavily affecting his voice.

“That’s good! Did they say what happened?”

“Dropped a pan on their ankle and broke it.”

There was a pause like George was going through the same mental equations that Clay was. And for both of them, something wasn’t adding up quite right.

“How the hell did that happen?”

“Don’t know. Askin’ right now.” Clay replied getting up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. As much as he didn’t want to go back in there. The closest pen was sitting in a cup on the counter.

Clay grabbed the black pen quickly; getting out of the kitchen as quick as he could manage.

‘Glad you’re ok but how did that happen?’ He wrote, wincing. It wasn’t his best handwriting. Hopefully, his soulmate wouldn’t mind.

He was surprised that shortly after he’d pulled his hand back another reply had been hastily written. His soulmate must have been waiting for a reply. ‘I'm extremely clumsy.’

‘Was it a bad break?’

‘Doctor said I'd be in a cast for a few weeks. Not that bad I’ve been through worse.’ Worse? They acted like all of this was normal. Was it normal for them to hurt themselves?

“Well?” George questioned breaking the silence that had settled over the call.

“They said they’re pretty clumsy and they’ve been through worse.”

“That’s not exactly encouraging. What’s their name?” Oh shit, he’d forgotten to ask.

“Let me ask- “

“You haven’t asked?!” No George of course he hadn’t.

“Excuse me I was focused on them not dying.” Clay quipped back, turning his focus back to his arm.

‘What’s your name? Mines Clay btw.’ He wrote in slightly better handwriting. He’d written slower this time.

It took a bit longer to get a reply this time. Almost like they were hesitating.

‘Nicolas. I'd prefer Nick tho’

Nick their names Nick. His soulmate is a guy in Texas named Nick. That’s his soulmate, that’s…

“Nick- “Clay breathed out. He couldn’t believe it. It was his soulmate.

“Pardon?”

“Nick that’s his name.” Clay said voice filling with excitement. His smile becoming impossibly wide. After all this time. Finally.

Clay was so excited; he missed the quiet ding of a discord notification. With a message that would go unanswered until the next morning.

From Sapnap: Sorry! I got injured and had to run to the hospital! Head's still a bit loopy but otherwise, I’m ok. Want to call?

Chapter Text

Nick is sure when he wakes up that he must be dying. Even though it's only a blanket, the small amount of weight on his leg feels like it's crushing it. He wants to scream; the pain is excruciating. Damn pain medicine must've finally worn off.

Carefully Nick sits up, his head nearly spinning from the pain. He's got to get that blanket off of his ankle. So as gently as he dares, he lifts the blanket off of his ankle. Nick sighs in relief. The reprieve is barely enough to make a dent in the pain but it’s enough for now. If the next few weeks we're going to be anything like this, Nick didn't know if he could take it.

A knock echoed through the small dim room. Nick stilled, not even daring to breathe.

“Nicolas, honey?” His mother called from the other side of the door. Oh god. “Are you awake?” Maybe he could pretend he was asleep? Just keep quiet and maybe she’d go away.

When she opened the door, however, that thought went straight out the window. He had to hide his arm. If she saw he’d written on it…

Nick didn’t want to think about what might happen. With her, it was better to just never find out.

Quickly, he covered his arm with the discarded comforter. It would give her one less thing of ammunition. But now he’d have to come up with a lie as to why he hadn’t answered immediately. That shouldn’t be a problem, his lies came easily after years of practice.

“Sorry, I was just setting up so I could talk to you.” His smile is all too fake and polite. It’s desynced and doesn’t reach his eyes. Anyone else who’d see it would know it was fake. But she’d buy it, she always did.

“Oh, Nicolas you didn’t need to do that for me.” Her own smile echoing his. Fake. “I was just checking to see if you were ok before I left the house for the day.” Nick nearly cheered. There WAS a god. For the last 3 days, she had been hovering over him. Barley giving him space to breathe.

If someone saw the spectacle from the outside, they would probably say that she was a doting and caring mother who was worried about her child. Nick knew better. It was because CPS had been called to the hospital. Probably by the nurse who kept sending worried glances towards him every time his mother got close. Maybe she was worried because every time Nick’s mother got close to him, he’d flinch. He wasn’t sure why he reacted like that, she’d never hurt him.

But as with the lies to his mother, his… answers to CPS were also well-practiced. This wasn’t the first time they’d been called but it was probably the last. The woman that came to talk to Nick was a blonde in her mid 40’s if Nick had to guess, with pressed clean clothes and a pair of pink-rimmed reading glasses hanging dangerously close to the end of her turned-up nose. If it had been the social worker from a few years ago. The one that was young, barely out of college, with bright eyes and that soothing voice. Maybe he would have slipped. She was the only one Nick had gotten close to telling. His mind had almost let him fall when he’d burnt his leg with a fire poker. Almost.

But this one wasn’t like her. Sure, she was polite. To the point, it was almost condescending. She was nice. That sickenly sweet type that made Nick want to vomit. It was all just a show. After all, there was nothing, they could do. He was legally an adult in the state of Texas. Why did they even bother to show up? Maybe that’s why they’d sent her. They never expected to help.

He’d kept his answers short and to the point. Nick just wanted her gone.

How did you hurt your leg? Dropped a pan on it.

Did you drop it? Yes, I dropped it.

Why did you drop it? Did something happen to make you drop it? I’m clumsy.

Do you feel safe? Yes. No.

She’d left happy after hearing how he had been the one to break his ankle. His mother came back smiling that same honey-sweet smile, shaking hands with the social worker. In the background, he’d swore he’d seen the nurse give him a look of pity. It made it seem like he was some sick kitten stuck out in the pouring rain. Like he couldn’t take care of himself. Like he needed help. He hated that look.

Come to think of it. That younger social worker had given him that same look. Nick never understood why they gave him that same sad smile. The same drawn together brows. Of sympathy. Of pity. He didn’t need help. He was fine.

God, how he HATED that look.    

“Anyway.” His mother continued, her nose crinkling. “I’m going to be out for the rest of the day. Do you want anything?” Nick wanted a lot of things. Didn’t mean he was getting anything from that list.

“No, I’m good. I appreciate you asking me though.” She pats his shoulder in a way that, had his ankle not been shooting pain up his leg, he would have found comforting. Nick’s careful not to let the cover slip from his arm. If she saw…

Then as quickly as she entered the room, she was gone. Almost as if she had never disturbed the peace of the old room. Nick, however, doesn’t give a sigh of relief until the front door slams shut. He’s not sure why he’s so relieved. After all, he’s the one who dropped the pan.

She’d thrown it at him.

Nick’s head started to pound. Monotony, normalcy, calm. That’s what he needed. He grabbed his phone that was hanging on the edge of his desk. It was dark and empty of any notifications. Blank and… abandoned.

He wasn’t surprised. It had been like this the last few days. The constant of good morning text was gone and so was the grounded feeling he got from them. Dream had been… inconsistent with talking with him for the last few days.

Of course, that’s to be expected, Nick reasoned. Dream was probably just busy. Soon enough they’d be back to normal.

Your wrong he’s just gotten tired of you. He’s just like everyone else. A snide voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother piped in. And maybe for once, they were right…

Nick shook his head. Dream wouldn’t. He wouldn’t…

He couldn’t.

Nick sent him a good morning text. He’d respond. He always did.

Unless…

Unless his mind was busy. Sometimes Dream would hyper-focus on projects or sometimes even people. He’d devote every waking second to whatever was occupying his mind at the time. Sometimes he’d get in a state where he’d forget to eat. Those were the worst.

Maybe that’s what had happened?

The last time Dream had gotten into one of those spells was a few months ago. It had gone on for a few days. Dream had been agonizing about a new video he’d been editing. It wasn’t turning out how he wanted and so in… desperation. He’d stayed up getting maybe a couple of hours of sleep trying to fix problems that in all likelihood-

Didn’t exist. And frankly, Nick was tired of it.

“When was the last time you slept man?” Nick had asked, concerned.

“Donno- “Dream answered his voice slurred. Vowels and syllables mixing together into an inaudible mess. It had definitely been too long since he’d gotten some sleep.

“You should get some rest.” Nick encouraged. This had always seemed so easy for Bad. Maybe he was just a natural. Nick never was good at… this. But something told him that he had to at least try.

“I’m- f-ine Sap.” Dream tried but his words were slipping.

“You’re not.” Nick insisted.

“I... I need to g-et thus done- “Dream tried to argue but Nick cut him off.

“I’ll edit the dam video.” He had to push. To insist. It felt like Dream was trying to pull away. Not from him but… Nick felt that Dream needed him to push. “Please” He pressed.   

There was a long pause. Maybe the call dropped? Nick checked the connection squinting at the too bright-screen. Nope, Dream was still here.

Maybe he’d passed out?!

“You still there?” Nick said, hoping his friend hadn’t actually passed out.

“One sec-” Dream disconnected from the call and a few seconds later rejoined. “Sorry, had- to switch to my phone. I uh…” There was a squeak and groan from an old office chair. “I think, I need to eat something. Can’t re-member last time I uh.. ate.”

“You should eat then.” Nick wanted to smack himself. He’s just parroting back advice. “I mean…” He fumbled.

“I know whatch’a mean Sap.” The subtle clanking of dishes echoed through the phone.  “Can you stay on the call with me? I just- I need- “Dream struggled. More clanging and sharp metal noises filled the call.

“What do you need? tell me what you need.” It almost sounded like pleading.

There was a sigh and with a shake in his voice Dream answered. “A- distraction.”

“I can do that.” Nick said with confidence.

The next hour was filled with meaningless conversations over the upcoming winter holidays. Of cool weather and warm pies. Of quiet nights by the fireplace and loud streams of laughter over the gaze of twinkling lights. It was nice. Even if Nick hadn’t experienced even half the things he was talking about.

More importantly, it gave Dream exactly what he needed. By the end Dream had returned to his kettle of a laugh and his words had regained that hint of a smile to them.

It was nice.

Nick was pulled back harshly into reality when his leg brushed against his comforter sending a new rush of pain up his leg. Dam thing. He’d thought he’d thrown it off… oh, right his arm was still covered.

Nick pulled his arm up to his face to examine the neat script that felt like it was burning into his skin. It was written by his soulmate. After his trip to the hospital, Nick had gotten home to the most discord messages and texts he’d ever seen in an afternoon. Bad had gotten spooked by what had happened on call the night before, apparently. And now, everyone thought he’d been murdered or something.

Nick had been getting ready to give them the same answers as the social worker. The same obligatory performance. When he noticed something on his arm. Something Nick knew wasn’t there the night before.

A hastily-written ‘Are you ok???’ was under the hospital address the ER nurse had written on his arm.

It was from his soulmate. It had to be. The first thing that he gets from his soulmate is a concerned message because he might have been dying. Something deep within Nick gets angry.

Maybe they had just ignored him after all.

But Nick bites it down. Maybe Bad had been right. Maybe they hadn’t gotten the message and their first message had been the notification that their soulmate was in the hospital. If that was the case his soulmate must have been terrified.

The scraggly handwriting all but confirmed this. Looking as though it was written in a rush. In panic.

Nick grabbed the bright red sharpie from his desk and carefully uncapped it.

‘Sorry that this had to be our first conversation’ Nick wrote in as best writing as he could manage, directly under the scribble of a message from his soulmate. Maybe the more calm and practiced print would give his soulmate the impression that everything was fine, and this was all normal. ‘I fractured my ankle dropped a pan on it.’ He continued.

Now Nick would just have to wait. In the meantime, he wrote out his group explanation for last night. He was fine. His mom was just yelling across the house for him to do the dishes. Nick hadn’t responded to any messages or calls because he’d gone to the hospital after hurting himself. This happened every couple of years so they wouldn’t be surprised. They probably wouldn’t even question it. They hadn’t last time.

When Nick next glanced at his arm, he saw a reply to his message still written in that scraggly handwriting. He’d learn later that this wasn’t his soulmate’s normal handwriting and was most likely brought on by the stress.

‘Glad you’re ok but how did that happen?’ It read and Nick felt his stomach lurch. Where they doing this so soon? And just like with the social worker his replies were the same. ‘I'm extremely clumsy.’ Nick wrote quickly.

He hoped his soulmate didn’t catch his haste to avoid the topic. If they had, it went unmentioned.

‘Was it a bad break?’

‘Doctor said I'd be in a cast for a few weeks. Not that bad I’ve been through worse.’ That part was true. He had been through worse. The time Nick had to go to the emergency room because he’d gotten behind his mom’s car. Had been the worst. He’d broken his leg. She hadn’t done it deliberately and really it was his fault for not paying attention.

His soulmate or er… Clay? Insisted on writing to Nick in the morning. And like clockwork every morning, since going to the hospital, Nick has received a good morning message along with a question about himself. The first day it was his favorite color, the day after it was his favorite type of music, the day after that it was his favorite book. It felt like he was just answering a questionnaire on a speed dating application.

Nick humored him. Answering and parroting the same question back. Sometimes the answers from Clay were short and to the point. But others would send him off on tangents that nearly covered all of Nick’s arm. Clay was, obviously, extremely happy to have a soulmate.

Nick couldn’t reciprocate those feelings. The thought that Clay was doing this out of pity or out of formality terrified him. It terrified him because if it was true then the voice was right.

Eventually, he’d leave too.

Abandoning him.

Nick sighed rubbing his temples, he had to stop thinking about it. If he didn’t think about it then it wouldn’t happen. It was as simple as that.

Nick turned his attention back to the message. ‘Good morning, Nick!’ Grabbing his red sharpie off his dilapidated desk Nick responded with a good morning back and waited patiently for the question of the day. At least it gave him something to do since he was stuck at home and Dream was essentially avoiding him.

Avoiding… Nope, nope, nope, he wasn’t going down that rabbit hole today. Dream was just busy.

A few moments later clean writing appears in the same black ink Clay had been using since their first conversation. ‘Tell me something you’ve never gotten to do but want to. Like I want to visit the west coast, but I’ve never had the opportunity.’

Something he wants?

‘I want a lot of things doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.’ Nick writes back, leaning against his all too barren wall. For some reason, he’d had no motivation to put things up on the wall. It all felt so… permanent. And that scared him.

‘You never know.’ Nick stared, wondering if he should answer honestly at the text. He must have waited a little to long because before Nick answers he’s gotten another message. ‘Sorry, guess that’s a heavy subject? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. How about you tell me about your favorite food instead?’

Nick gritted his teeth. He could tell him the truth. Who would Clay tell after all?

…

But that wouldn’t matter because nothing was wrong.

…

The whole thing made Nick’s head hurt. So, he decides on a truth. ‘I want to move out. And my favorite food is cream puffs.’

It’s been a total of two weeks and the dynamic between Nick and Dream still hasn’t gotten any better. There had to be something wrong. This was the longest they’d gone in YEARS without a full conversation. And it was killing Nick.

He had to have done… something. Nick knew that it was his fault. It had to be. Everything was always his fault. Why would this be any different?

After thinking about it for a few days Nick pinpointed when this had all started. It started that day in the rain. The day he’d asked for a distraction. Maybe it was Nick’s mood that day that bothered Dream? Maybe it was just too much to handle, Nick reasoned as he sat at his desk.

Dream had gotten noticeably quieter on that call after Nick had asked for help. All for something that Nick himself was just being overdramatic about. It wasn’t serious and wasn’t needed. That whole thing had been a mistake.

 Now, he had to fix his mistake.  

How to fix it seemed so, so simple. Just fall back into that ray of sunshine attitude he’d always had. If he was bright and happy surely Dream would want to talk to him. It would be fine. Even if Nick wasn’t feeling up to it. He’d done it before and been fine. No reason this would be any different.

He’d told Clay all of this because who better to tell than someone who couldn’t tell Nick’s friends. He just didn’t want them to worry again. That hospital visit had scared them all enough. Both Bad and Punz had made it their mission to check in on him everyday. Even George in all of his seemingly uncaring attitude had been more attentive as of late.

Clay, however, took this as an opportunity to try and worm his way into them becoming friends.

Trying to give Nick advice and talk him out of this plan he’d thought up. Saying things like ‘You should tell them!’ and ‘Maybe there’s another reason.’ and even ‘Maybe they don’t realize it hurts you. If they found out maybe they’d be hurt too.’

Hurting? He wasn’t in pain. Nick was fine. And didn’t need help.

Everything was fine.

Part of Nick wondered how long the act would continue. When Clay would realize, maybe like Dream had, that it would be easier to leave. Maybe he wouldn’t.

So, Nick made it easier for them both and stopped talking to him. It was better if Nick wasn’t attached. It would hurt less when Clay eventually…

 Abandoned him.

Nick took a breath, trying to steady himself. He’d asked Dream to get on a call earlier and in a moment his plan would be in full motion. Something in his chest felt like it was being tugged on. Probably pulled a muscle with his crutches last week.

“Hey Sap? You with me?” Dammit. He’d zoned out.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Nick said hurriedly. He felt like if he didn’t Dream would disappear again. Like a puff of smoke in the wind.

“Are you…” Pause. “Ok?” Oh god, not again.

“I’m great. Never felt better.” Nick’s voice betrayed him, pitching higher than normal.

“Alright then.” Huh? Dream normally pressed… “What did you want to talk about Sapnap?”

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted to talk.” Nick said, rubbing his hands along his knees. He needed to calm down.

“Oh.”

Pause.

“Is that ok?” Nick asked, nails digging into his knees. God, he was glad they didn’t use facecam.

“Yeah, yeah. Just have a lot on my mind is all.”

“Me too. Which is why I thought-” Nick started but was quickly cut off.

“My soulmate hasn’t talked to me in a few days and I’m worried is all.” Wait…

“Soulmate?” Nick questioned, hands stilling.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? I got a message from them a few weeks ago.” He hadn’t. Dream hadn’t been telling him much of anything actually.

“You didn't” Nick answered sharply.

 “I know I told George and Bad.” So he told George and Bad... yet SOMEHOW, he didn't think to tell Nick. “Didn't they tell you?” Something warm and painful and disgusting... took hold in his gut.

“It wasn't really their job to tell me.” Nick quipped back, and he was right. It wasn't their job to notify him that his best friend had received a message from his soulmate. The pain from that pulled muscle seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

“Sorry, Sap I thought I told you. Anyway, they’ve been going through a rough time, and I’ve been trying to talk them through it.” It was horrible to say but Nick didn’t care. He couldn’t. His best friend had nearly stopped talking to him over someone he’d known for a couple of weeks.

“Is that why you haven't talked to me?” Nick questioned, his voice turning venomous. Mad didn’t even come close to describing the feeling Nick felt at that moment.

“I have been talking to you.” Dream countered voice sounding confused. And Nick couldn’t blame him. After all for Dream, this was out of nowhere.

“A ‘hi’ and ‘have you finished editing that video?’ isn’t talking. You didn’t even tell me you’d talked to your soulmate. And SOMEHOW you expected Bad or George to tell me instead.” Nick’s voice was raising in volume, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“I’m sorry Sap they needed me- “

“AND I DON’T?!” He wanted to punch something. He was so, so angry.

“They’re my soulmate Sapnap.” Dream answered back his own voice getting almost defensive.

“You hardly know them.” Nick hated it “and suddenly you decide THEY’RE MORE IMPORTANT?”

“That's not it Pandas...” Dream tried his voice sounding guilty. But Nick wasn't having it.

“DON'T YOU START THAT!” Nick said cutting him off and he hates it. “YOU KNEW I NEEDED HELP” Nick hates... “AND YOU JUST ABANDONED ME!” Just like everyone else.

“I DIDN’T!” Dream answered his volume increasing to match Nicks. “I JUST HAD OTHER PRIORITIES! I CAN'T BE THERE EVERY TIME YOU NEED SOMEONE TO HOLD YOUR HAND!”

And there it was… suddenly the wind was out of his sails and Nick felt so... so... so small. That pain in his chest is still there and it feels like it’s swallowing him up.

“Right- I uh- “Nick fumbled. This was going so wrong.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME I SHOULD IGNORE THEM?! Look I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry I haven’t been spending as much time with you.” Dream sounds exhausted and Nick can’t blame him. “But look. It’s ok if we don’t talk to each other all the time. Were friends Sapnap. We don’t need to talk everyday.”

And what he’s saying is reasonable... but that didn't make it hurt any less.

“Right sorry- “Nick feels… “I just- “Nick feels… “I felt- “Like he was more. “I’m sorry.” All of it was so wrong.

Nothing was ok. Nothing would be ok. And for once Nick doesn’t bother to pretend that everything would be.

“Sap I- “

Nick disconnects from the call without another word. The pain in his chest is excruciating now. It swallows him up and makes his lungs burn. He feels like he can’t breathe and maybe that's because he can’t. To absorbed in frantic gasps for breath through broken sobs and hiccups. 

He’s fucked up. He’s really done it this time. Nick cries harder. Pain and a sense of loss flow through him. infecting every inch of him like venom from a cottonmouth. In desperation to escape, he turns off his phone and climbs into bed hoping the darkness will just engulf him and make it all stop. He pleads for it to stop.

It takes a half-hour for the tears to stop and a headache to take its place. It takes two hours for the pain in his chest to stop; leaving it hollow for the first time in years, he realizes. It takes three hours of being alone with his thoughts for him to give in and write to his soulmate.

Who, unsurprisingly, welcomes him back with open arms. The ache returns for a second. Just a moment when he thinks about how Dream had been the same when he’d gone offline for a week without explanation a few years ago. Welcoming him back with a warm voice kind voice; never asking why he’d left.

But he shoves it down. It’s not that extraordinary. It’s nothing more than friendly. All an act. Like those fake smiles he’d exchange with his mother. And he was a fool to believe that with Dream that it had been anything more than performative.

Nick was a fool.

Nick doesn’t tell Clay he had feelings for his best friend. That’s something he’s going to keep buried somewhere so deep no one will find it ever again. That thought alone sends him back into a fit of tears. No one else would ever know and somehow that thought hurt worse than Dream’s words.

Nick’s eyes burn and the headache gets worse. Clay comforts him even though he’s working with nothing but half-truths and broken scraggly answers. Nick can't understand why he cares so much. Surely, he has something better to do. But even when Nick asks, Clay replies that he doesn't.

And maybe that should be scary. But Nick doesn't want to think about that right now. To absorbed in his own grief.

Even in April, the night is quiet except for the low yips of coyotes, somewhere, off in the distance. It's as suffocating as it was in March. Nick hates it…

A part of him wishes he could hear his soulmate’s voice. So, he'd have something to drown out the ever-present quiet. Just some noise to make him feel like he wasn’t... Alone.

Eventually, Nick calms down enough to sleep; or maybe he’s just so exhausted he passes out. Nick’s not sure.  

With the clarity the morning after brings, Nick realizes the pain from earlier wasn’t muscle pain. It was just pure and horrid jealousy that turned into a broken heart.

He was a fool. A complete and utter fool.

 The voice was right.

And Nick HATED it.

Chapter Text

‘I’m sure they don’t hate you.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying’

‘?’

‘I just think he’s sick of dealing with me.’

‘You said it yourself that you haven’t checked your phone. Why don’t you check it?’

Nick sighed in frustration, falling back into bed. Clay had been pushing on and off for weeks for Nick to just own up and talk to Dream. There was a slight problem, however, in the fact that Dream was upset with him. What scared him the most was the possibility of Dream saying he was tired of putting up with Nick and completely cutting him off.

Not knowing was better than confirmation.

So, for the past three weeks, Nick had completely cut himself off from everyone. His phone laying completely untouched.

‘Is being alone better than trying to make things work?’

But Nick wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. He was fine.

‘I’m not alone’

‘Nick, I don’t count.’

‘I wasn’t talking about strictly you’

‘You haven’t talked with any of your online friends in weeks and you’re spending the remainder of your senior year at home because of your leg. So, tell me how you’re not sitting in your room alone?’

‘Wow harsh’

‘I’m just’ A pause. Clay seemed to favor those pauses like many of his friends nowadays. ‘Worried. No one should have to be alone.’

‘I’m fine' The next response took several minutes. Maybe Clay was finally getting tired of him. Good, it would hurt less when he left.

‘Are you? Because you don’t seem fine.’ Or not.

Shuffling out of the nest, he’d made his bed into. Nick set his feet on the ragged carpet. Well, one of them anyway, the other one was still wrapped up tightly in medical bandages. Another few weeks they’d said. The fabric made his skin crawl.

With a little effort, he was standing. It had gotten easier and easier over the past few weeks, but the morning was always the worst. The muscle stiff and sore from underuse.

His shabby old dresser seemed to echo how he was feeling. The ever-present scratches seemed deeper and more pronounced than ever. Pale thick lines stretching all across its cherry dyed surface. Which seemed as though it had gotten dimmer in the last few weeks.

Nick glanced at his hands his own scars seemingly more pronounced as well. Long white blemishes that seemed like they’d never fade… and maybe they wouldn’t. Nick caught another message out of the corner of his eye.

‘It doesn’t make you a lesser person if you ask for help’

Nick tugs on a hoodie because it’s raining again. Not because he’s trying to ignore the voice of reason scribbling up his arm. Nope defiantly not.

It's pouring, it's storming, lightning is blaring from all sides. Hell, the heavens themselves must have opened up because when he steps outside on his porch Nick is being sprayed with the warm spring rain.

But it's better than being in the house.

As he stalks his way to the small beat-up truck that’s been abandoned for weeks, he tries not to think about singing love songs in the rain. He tries not to think about the concerned text on his arm. He tries not to think about the possible messages left unanswered on his phone. It’s a long walk to that dam truck and he’s soaked when he gets in there. Even the warm rains of May can’t stop him from involuntarily shivering once he’s tucked into the old truck.

He fumbles for a few moments trying to get the keys out of the front pocket of his hoodie and after successfully grabbing them he’s able to put the heater at full blast. The windows fogging up almost instantly. It’s only when he relaxes when he notices the hoodie he’d grabbed.

Bright lime green in all its mockery.

Nick wants to puke. He wants to hide under his bed and never come out again. He wants the ground to swallow him up. All of this. Every dam bad decision. Every false hope. Every clingy unreachable desire started from that night. With this fucking hoodie and those dam headphones.

Nick’s sick.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, but Nick fully comes back when the fog on the windows clears. Even as sick as he is, Nick can’t bring himself to leave the now warm truck to change out of the hoodie. If he goes back into the house, he won't leave. He’s aware enough to realize that at least.

Begrudgingly he puts the truck in reverse and backs out the driveway. The water isn’t as high as it was the last time he drove in the rain. Which Nick realizes was nearly two months ago now, all to get sweets that he’d ended up not even buying.

Nick's not sure where he’s going, he hadn’t had a place in mind when he’d left. He ends up relaxing in his seat as he drives through the deserted streets. It’s a stormy Wednesday morning after all. No ones out.

He drives slowly through downtown savoring the quiet the rain is bringing. People watching as he stops at the red lights. There’s a woman carrying her child hopping between awnings trying to keep them both dry, an older man looking out a café window enjoying a newspaper, a runner who bolts down the sidewalk, and an older woman with a long sweater who’s glancing around the street looking for someone. It's quaint. He almost decides to pull over and park; so that maybe he could enjoy the quiet like the rest of them.

But as the light turns green, he quickly moves on. Inside the truck he’s safe. Nick doesn’t want to break that safety he’s built.

He drives further running into a few cautious drivers also braving the rain to get on the highway. Nick doesn’t follow. The highways are always crowded here. They’re too noisy, too real, too nerve-wracking. Too LOUD.

Instead, he pulls into a parking lot that happens to have an ice cream shop in it. It's deserted. Nick sits for an instant debating if he should get something. He still can’t bring himself to get out of the truck. So, he pulls into the drive-thru. It takes a minute for someone to greet him and ask for his order.

“Can I get a large chocolate chip shake?” Nick asks, digging a ten out of his glovebox. It's there for emergencies. Like gas or air or whatever. He decides today deserves an ‘emergency’ shake. He’s not sure the last time he’s eaten.

He hands the peppy girl at the pickup window the ten and slumps back in his seat trying to relax until she returns with his change and shake. It takes maybe five minutes for her to come back. Smile bright and polite as she hands him everything. She wishes him a good day and Nick smiles back the best he can and replies with a “you too” before parking in the parking lot.

Nick is content as he sips on the perfect shake. The place had a habit of making them so thick you’d have to wait for them to thaw out, but today he’s lucky.

He’s nearly done with his shake when he thinks about the script on his arm. As much as he doesn’t want to look at it. There’s a part of him that feels the need to. Nick sets the unfinished shake in the cupholder. Trying to brace himself before he looks.

‘Sorry I overstepped again.’ Is the first thing he reads. Nick feels like this is a constant in their relationship. Clays always having to tiptoe around him. Always apologizing for things, he shouldn’t have to. It's Nick's fault for pulling away in the first place, but that’s how it’s always been. Whenever things get difficult for him, he runs and hides.

A coward.

It’s just another thing he hates about himself.

‘No no it's my fault’ He begins getting cut off immediately by a few hurried scribbles.

‘I was worried you’d stop talking to me again.’

‘I’m sorry. I drove around a bit to try and clear my head.’

‘It's ok’

‘It's not. You shouldn’t have to apologize. I can’t just stop talking to you because you tell me things that are difficult.’ And that was probably the most honest he’d been in weeks.

‘That’s just how you deal with stuff and it's ok.’

‘But it's not’ Nick continues tears starting to prick at his eyes. ‘It doesn’t help me or anyone else. It just makes everything worse.’ Despite the heater, the truck feels unnaturally cold.

‘I mean where people we aren’t perfect.’

Nick's full-on crying now, tears dripping down his flushed cheeks. He tries to calm down he doesn’t want Clay to know he’s crying again. The keyword is trying, but it's too late he’s hiccupping and full-on sobbing at this point and nothings going to stop it.

‘It's ok to be upset. To complain about shit. It's ok Nick’

But it isn’t and… and it hasn’t been for a while now. He buries his head into the crook of his other arm trying to self-soothe. The soft green material is warm and comforting. It reminds him of soft one A.M. talks in the dark, of warm soup in crowded kitchens, of singing, of laughter. OF HOME. So, he spills.

‘I was in love with my best friend.’ It’s a heavy statement. Even with everything, they’d talked about in the last few weeks. Even with how close they’d grown. It’s still a lot to just dump on a person.

‘Was?’

‘Am’ He corrects.

‘Oh’ And yeah, what else is Clay supposed to say?

‘I’m sorry Nick continues, sniffling and wiping his face with his sleeve trying to save some of his dignity. For whom he’s not sure.

‘No no! I’m just surprised! Do you want to talk about it? It’s the one you got into a fight with a few weeks ago, right?’

‘Yeah.’ Nick replies but he’s not sure where to start. Starting at the very beginning would be overkill and he’d run out of room quickly.

‘Don’t know where to start? Do you want me to suggest a starting point?’ He swears Clay can read his mind sometimes. It reminds him of George and Bad. It's comforting. Nick makes a mental note to message them both apologies when he gets home. He hopes they forgive him.

‘Desperately’

‘When did you first notice?’

When did he first notice it? The first time he’d recognized it was in his wooded backyard spinning around drenched in the early March rain. It was intense and suffocating. Not in a bad way, it was just a lot in the moment. But that wasn’t the first time he’d felt it. That was…

‘My birthday.’ Nick began taking a breath to steady himself. ‘He sent me a big box of stuff. Hoodies, T-shirts, and stuff. He put so much thought into it. He even bribed another friend of ours into figuring out what kind of headphones I’d been saving up for.’

‘Sounds nice’

‘It was’ Nick smiles at the memory. His heart growing lighter for the first time in over a month. ‘Dream’s amazing. I miss him.’

Nick waits for a reply but after ten minutes of sitting listening to the rain, he realizes Clay probably had something come up. So, he sits up scanning the parking lot. It's still pretty barren but there are a few more cars that have shown up. The downpour still hasn’t let up however, so he makes the decision to drive home. He probably had a few more peaceful hours before he had to deal with his mother anyway.

The way home is as quiet as his drive that morning. With the occasional slosh of rising water against the tires. Even the booming thunder from this morning was gone. Before he’s even realized it, he’s home. His mother’s car is still missing from the driveway.

He makes the same dash to the front door, which for some reason felt much shorter than it had this morning. Nick checks his arm again when he gets to the lit porch.

‘Dream?’ Nick fished his pen back out, replying after he unlocked the front door. Keys hanging in the lock.

‘Yeah, I was never able to give out my name, so we always went by usernames.’ It was a rule his mother had made up. No full names, no addresses, no phone numbers. ‘Mine’s Sapnap.’ He continues just before opening the door.

Nicks so wrapped up in his arm that he fails to notice the coat that was missing when he left the house earlier, the shoes that were also noticeably absent, and the quiet humming coming from the kitchen.

“Oh, your home.” Nick freezes. He doesn’t dare lookup. He can’t even breathe. “What’s with your arm?”

“Nothing!” Nick panics, trying to hide his arm behind his back. “Just bruised it.” But he knows he’s been caught red-handed when her eyes change.

“Nicolas.” Her tone is harsh. “I’ve always told you not to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” He is and she knows it. She grabs at his arm clutching it in an iron grip. Nick doesn’t even try to escape. His legs are frozen in place, he couldn’t even if he tried. Her eyes widen ever so slightly as she gazes over the numerous back and forth messages. “I won’t do it again- “He tries but that only seems to make her angrier. Her nails digging into his skin. “You’re hurting me- “He pleads. Her answer is to drag him into the kitchen. Nick realizes that she’s dug hard enough he’s bleeding. “You’re hurting me- “

“You need to be taught a lesson.” She’s drug him over to the sink. He doesn’t see what she grabs next to her on the stove but in a second all he feels is… nothing, it's pitch black. No sound, no feeling, nothing. Then there’s a sound through the darkness. Someone’s screaming. It’s a blood-curdling one, so full of pain and despair he doesn’t recognize it. He doesn’t realize until his vision has returned. He’s clutching his badly burned arm. His own skin bubbling and blistering immediately in desperation to save itself.

It's his own. He’s screaming. White burning pain clouds his vision as he doubles over. The pain is so intense he pukes. Getting rid of the only bit of food he’d had in who knows how long. He feels like he’s dyeing and maybe he is.

He’s still dry heaving when his mother drags him out the door to the truck. The rain makes it worse, making his already destroyed skin peel. Red hot blotches littering his skin. Blood boiling underneath it all. He retches again, but there is nothing left to take. The ride to the hospital is spent in and out of consciousness. The pain is just too much.

When Nick comes too he fines he’s in a hospital room. Light gray walls and white tile barely lit by the dimmed lights. There’s an empty chair in the corner the same color as the wall and a window that’s darkened by the cover of night. The room smells of antiseptic.

He’s in fairly large hospital bed covered in rough thin sheets, that make his skin crawl every time he moves. The newly acquired bandage that adorns his left arm is much the same. He has the urge to scratch at them.

It's quiet, except for the beeping to his right and the soft pelting of rain against the windows. He can’t even hear the night staff shuffling around outside, even though he knows they’re there. There is one important thing that’s missing from the room and that gives him peace.

Nick stays there in the near darkness he doesn’t know how long until a night shift nurse quietly knocks on his door. She seems a little surprised to see him awake but slips a smile on her face, nonetheless.

“You’re awake!” She says going over to his monitor to check his vitals. “How long have you been awake?”

Nick's throat flashes with pain when he replies. “Not that long.” He really doesn’t know. Time always seems to slip away from him nowadays.

“On a scale of one to ten how is your pain level.” She continues going to check his chart. There’s a dull ache in his arm but otherwise, it's just his throat.

“1” He wants to be honest. She nods going to the whiteboard that had been hidden in the darkness earlier. Writing ‘pain level 1 at 3’.

“That’s probably due to the pain meds.” She continues walking back to his chart to double-check something. “They’ve proscribed you some to take as well as some antibiotics, so the burn doesn’t get infected.” Nick nods if only to show he’s listening. “You should be discharged in a few days to go back home for some bed rest.”

He tries his best not to look sick when she mentions going home. Nick gives her the fake smile hoping she believes him. She smiles back and mentions something about him getting some sleep but he’s not listening anymore.

It feels like minutes instead of hours when Nick’s mother shows up in all her fakeness. Her makeup is done, her hair is pristine, and her smile is desynced. It’s the same as it always is. The day nurse is fooled easily by her over charming ways. She mentions as she’s checking his vitals how ‘lucky he is to have such a caring mother’. He tries not to puke the powdered orange juice he’d forced down this morning.

When Nick gets up from the bed, for the first time, he can see the same emergency writing on his leg he’d had the last time he’d been here. Well, he supposes, they couldn’t write on his arm, could they? He also catches the same frantic scribbles from Clay and tries not to think about how worried he is. The last time had been scary enough.

The same night nurse returns the next night and his mother is still there pulling her act. Though it seems the night nurse isn’t as convinced as the day nurse. There’s a brief look of contempt across the young nurse’s face when she introduces herself to his mother. Her smile is tight as she glances over to Nick almost to gauge his reaction to the scene.

His mother doesn’t take notice and instead proceeds to go into a story about how ‘He’s always been clumsy’ and ‘He’s always hurting himself’. Her mismatched smile never fading.

“Mrs. Coleman.” The nurse interrupts mid-story. “I’m sorry but visiting hours are over.”

“I’m his mother I’ll just stay he- “

“I’m sorry, but he’s 18 you can’t stay. Hospital policy.” Oh. Oh, this nurse has just pissed her off. He can tell in the way her jaw tenses and her back stiffens. Her eyes seem to be trying to stare down the nurse who doesn’t budge. After a few seconds, his mother gives up putting that fake smile back on before she turns to Nick.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Nicolas.” She leaves slamming the door behind her. He’s got 8 whole hours of peace.

“You alright?” Nick turns back a little startled, he’d forgotten she was in there with him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Well, he was now. She nodded going to check his vitals.

“Well, everything looks good.” She mentions as she heads towards his chart. Her freckled nose scrunching as she glances at the small print.

“That’s good.” Nick parrots and she nods in agreement her loose bun of brown hair mirroring the motion. Nick looks down at his leg; he wants to answer Clay but if his mother sees…

“You’ll be going home soon.” Nick looks up and she’s looking at him intently with sharp gray eyes.

“Have too eventually.” Her lips purse and she seems intent as she leans in. She’s on a mission.

“Are you sure all of those were- “She pauses seeming unsure but deciding to push through anyway. “ACCIDENTS” She emphasizes every syllable. Her look almost encouraging. She reminded him of the young social worker from a few years ago.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t have the energy to try and make up something. She gives him the same pitying look as the rest as she leans back. She seems disappointed and Nick can’t blame her. He’s disappointed in himself.

“What’s your pain level?”

“3”

He’s able to get a little sleep before his mother barges in ruining the peace of the room. She’s talking a mile a minute. Oh, how she’d missed him. He tries to ignore her and pretend to sleep. Something pokes him in the side. He doesn’t dare check it when she’s there, but he looks when she leaves for coffee.

It’s a card for an abuse shelter in Dallas. He studies the card carefully flipping it over finding a tiny note on the back.

‘Just in case they weren’t accidents’

The nurse. Nick hides the card under his pillow before his mother comes back. He can’t let her take it. He just can’t. Nick knows himself well enough that he wont call the number. He wont go to the shelter. Still the bit of paper in his palm gives him comfort. Gives him peace. And most importantly gives him hope.

When Nick’s mother returns with all her ranting and raving, he tries his best to appease her nodding, pretending to listen. It makes her visits easier. He does however spare a glance to the whiteboard where the Day and Night nurses' names are printed neatly on the bottom. Dawna. He makes a mental note not to forget her.

When they get home it's nothing but fake smiles and plastered faces. His mother has prepped for this. Nick notes, as he’s escorted down the hall, that the door to his room is gone. Not even the hinges left in place. It doesn’t shock him. After all she’d done this before in fifth grade when she’d found out he’d been sneaking out at night. What does shock him is what’s missing from his room.

His computer's gone. There’s not even a spec of dust to tell where it use to sit. “My compu-“ He starts but she cuts him off.

“There are dangerous people on there. I found all sorts of hateful messages on there. I didn’t want you to-” A few weeks ago, he might have convinced himself that she was right. But he feels the slick card carefully tucked in his pocket. She’s just lying through her teeth. “Coincidently, where’s your phone?”

Oh. OH, she hadn’t found it. In all her carefulness to destroy his contact with the outside world. She’d missed the phone.

“I haven’t any idea. I haven’t used it in weeks.” She’s staring at him trying to gauge if he’s lying again. He’s told her a half-truth. Nick doesn’t know exactly where it is but, he has a vague idea. And that piece of cardboard in his pocket is giving him hope. He can’t waste it.

“No matter.” She concedes. “We’ll find it eventually. I want to see your leg.” She just wants to check if he’s contacted his soulmate. Nick doesn’t have the energy to fight with her, so he sits on the bed and rolls up his pant legs. Let her have what she wants so she’ll leave him alone.

She bends down to look; scrutinizing every message Clay had sent. Nick notes that there are a few new ones this morning that he hadn’t gotten a chance to read yet. “Don’t move.” She instructs leaving the room.

Nick stays stock still. The last thing he wants is to anger her. She comes back a few minutes later black sharpie in hand. Bending down again she begins blocking out all the messages, even the emergency contact message, until all that’s left are black boxes.

It makes his stomach turn. He wants to puke.

“There.” She says admiring her handiwork. “Now you’re safe.” She gets up to leave only to stop and pat his injured arm. He winces in pain, but she takes no notice and walks out shortly. It’s a reminder of what she’ll do if he tries again. All of it is. The door, the computer, the pain in his arm. It’s all a threat.

He needs to leave.

If he doesn’t. She’ll kill him.

In the coming days, Nick’s able to find and charge his phone but it's hard to form a plan when she’s always there. Watching.

He can’t even contact Clay because she’s taken to strip-searching him looking for upstart conversations. Its dehumanizing. Not being able to even take a shower in peace.

Nick can’t leave either. His keys have been taken away because her car is in the shop, and she needs them. Or so she claims. The card, that’s been a sort of anchor for him, reminds Nick that she’s probably lying to keep him there in that house.

The phone is all he has left, even still she’s cut service to that too. She must suspect he has it. She’s been in his room looking for it several times. Luckily that piece of junk, that’s his dresser, seems to be on Nick's side for once. Denying her access to the precious peace of tech.

His escape.

It’s the fourth night back at the house, when Nick's finally able to sneak out to the porch. It’s late, and his arm is throbbing with pain because he’s supposed to be asleep, but he has to try. He carefully shuts the front door as he steps outside.

It's pitch black.

He can’t let out a sound or turn on a light. If he does it’s over.

Nick's hands are shaking as he types in his password for the first time in weeks. His phone is flooded with notifications, but he has limited time. He opens discord and joins the first call on the list. He doesn’t even see who’s in the call, he’s shaking so much. Putting the phone to his ear, Nick looks around, praying to god she hasn’t heard him.

“Sapnap?” Its George. George in all his sass and grandeur. Nick could cry just hearing his voice. Oh god, how he’d missed him.

“Sapnap’s here?” Of course, George isn’t alone. Wilbur’s there too. He’d interrupted them. They were having a conversation and he’s bumbled right in. They must be mad. They have to be.

“I’m sorry- “Nick tries feeling his moment of courage start to fade. But George cuts him off, voice strained.

“Sapnap don’t go.” George pleads. In all the years he’s known George, Nick doesn’t recall George’s voice EVER sounding like that. ”Where have you been?”

“I don’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

“Wilbur already signed off. Where were you?” Nick checks and George is telling the truth, Wilbur is gone. Like a puff of smoke in the wind. Part of him wonders if George said something through DM’s. “Where were you?” George repeats.

“Hospital.” It’s a half-truth. He wants to tell George the whole story, but he doesn’t have the time or the energy. He’ll tell George later.

“For over a month?!” George exclaims causing Nick to pull away from the phone from the volume. “What the hell happened?!”

“No not a month. Dream and I got into a fight…”

“I know I know. I’ve been on calls with him all month trying to calm him down.” Ah, he had been right. Dream was actually mad at- “Do you know how worried we all were?! Dream and Punz were on the verge of flying to Texas and tracking your ass down.” Oh… Not mad… worried.

“I’m sorry- “

“Stop apologizing. What happened? Why did you go to the hospital? I swear if you tried something because of Dream being an idi- “

“No. No, it wasn’t that”

“Well?”

“It’s… I…” Why was it so hard? Nick knew very well he didn’t douse his own arm with boiling water. So why, was this so difficult? It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.

But you deserved it didn’t you? Tears prick his eyes.

“Sap?” George questioned tone turning soft.

“My- my mom she- “Nick tried but the words were caught in his throat.

“Your mom? Did something happen to her?”

“NO! She-“ He was sobbing now, tears pouring down his face.

But you deserved it didn’t you?

“Sap. Did she… do something?” Nick couldn’t answer, he only sobbed further. The shaking from his sobs causing a painful reminder of his burned arm. Oh god it hurt. “What did she do Sapnap.” George’s voice was firm and intentional. It was the tone of the nurse. It was the tone of the social worker. Nick fell.

“She-she- burned me.” Nick choked out, George stayed silent for a few moments. Nick almost checked to see if George had left.

“She burned you.” George repeated like he wanted to make sure he was hearing Nick correctly. His voice was devoid of emotion. It was calm, almost sterile.

But you deserved it didn’t you?

“She didn’t mean to pour the boiling water on- “Nick back peddled, trying to hold back his sobs. Maybe, he was just overreacting and so was that nurse and that soci-

“Bullshit.” George said, pure rage slipping into his voice.

“Huh?” Nick breathed out, his hand running across his knee in a self-soothing gesture.

George didn’t believe him…

“I said bullshit she didn’t mean it. What person... no monster pours boiling hot water on their child.” George pauses. George has always been a little to- “The hospital trip a few months ago. Was that her too? Are you safe?” The dam breaks.

“NO- “Nick chokes out his sobs coming back in waves. Surely his mother will hear. She’ll hear him sobbing on the porch. She’ll hear and take him away. She’ll take away George-

“Do you have a-do you have a safe place you can go Sapnap?” George is trying to keep his voice level but even in this state, Nick can tell he’s struggling.

“I- ca-n’t leave-“ His sobs have devolved into hiccupping coughs and it’s getting harder and harder to talk. “Sh-e's taken every-thing.” He manages, the pain in his arm is starting to get unbearable.

“There’s got to be something.” George tries to argue, as frantic keyboard clicks sound off in the background. “But I need you to calm down, ok? I’m finding you a way out of there. Ok?”

“But she- “

“Don’t care, you’re leaving.” Nick shut’s his mouth. There was no stopping George when he’s got his mindset on something. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

“I’m sorry George.”

“I told you to stop apologizing, idiot.”

Nick laughed for the first time in days. God how he’d missed George. “No promises Georgie.”

“Bus or plane?”

“Huh”

“What kind of carriage do you want to take out of the state. Bus or plane.” Out of state? Where would he even go…

“Bus, but where am I going?” There’s a slight fear in him that his mother will track the flight.

“That’s up to you. Florida or Massachusetts.”

“Why those two?”

“Dream, Bad and Punz. I know all of them have been worried sick so any of them would take you in. You’ll have to talk to them of course but… Sap you can’t stay there.”

“I know.” Nick's calm now. There’s at least a plan. It isn’t hopeless. He’s got a way out. He checks over his shoulder and the house is still dark. Part of him feels like he’ll miss this. It's his home after all… the other part of him feels like that’s a lie. Maybe it wasn’t home maybe he just fooled himself into believing it was. “Do you think-“ There’s something that has reminded him of home hanging in his closet. “Do you think Dream would be ok with-“ Nick wonders allowed.

“He’d love for you to stay.”

“How do you- “

“Since you haven’t been talking to him the last month who do you think has been keeping him company? Call him, it’ll be ok.”

“Promise?” Nick sounds small. He’s not sure he can believe it. Even if it is George.

“Promise.” Nick relaxes a bit sliding down into the bench, so his head is hidden from the window. He wants to stay here awhile just listening to George type on his computer. He’s tired and his arm is aching something fierce. He’ll just rest his eyes as he waits.

The night is warm, the summers fast approaching so the comfortable nights outside will soon be a thing of the past. There’s a bit of wind that nudges the windchimes on the porch, there’s a quiet rustle of leaves and somewhere off in the distance, there’s a loud whistling noise.

Ah, the cicadas had started to sing.

Chapter Text

Nick was just so, so, tired. And in so much pain; that he passes out. His arm felt like thousands of tiny needles bursting through his skin. It was all too much.

It's 4:15 AM when Nick wakes up. He’s lucky George is there. His voice is calm, as he gently wakes Nick from his slumber to explain the plan he's cooked up. George’s voice is soft in a way it often isn’t. While Nick hates the pity, for once he's appreciative for someone using kid gloves with him. It's only George's voice that stops him from panicking when he wakes up.

It's 4:20 AM when he carefully shuts the front door and creeps back to his room to pack. He has until 5 o'clock to pack his entire life away. (Or what's left of it) He better hurry.

He's only got a suitcase and a backpack to pack but it all has to be done in the dark. Nick supposes he's lucky in this regard. After all, he's only got clothing to throw in there so it shouldn't be extraordinarily difficult.

She's taken everything else.

But there's definitely one thing he needs to grab if last night on the bench taught him anything. He needs to go and grab the pain medication that's in the bathroom.

Quiet as a mouse Nick slips into the bathroom and nabs the pain medicine for his arm. His heart is nearly beating out of his chest, at any moment she could wake up. However, as he makes his way back to his room, he notes that she still hasn't stirred.

He continues to pack when Nick realizes with disdain, that a majority of his clothing is old and ratty. Smelling of that flowery detergent his mother loves using. Little of it makes it into his bag but at least it’s something. His backpack is a little less sparse, filled with warm soft hoodies and a new pair of headphones he hasn't used in weeks. The metal is cool against his palm as he carefully tucks them safely away in their protective bag.

A small part of him hope’s they’ll block out the guilt-ridden thoughts that are starting to creep in. Every other part of him knows they won't, but they might make a decent distraction. He hopes.

By the time Nick’s done he's got 5 minutes before he has to leave. George had gotten him an Uber to take him to the bus station. George had done so much for him. Nick absently wondered if he’d ever truly get to pay him back. Carefully and quietly, he gets all of his luggage to the front door and looks around, the house still quiet. He wonders if there's any of this place that he’ll miss.

As if on cue. His cats round the corner, making a beeline towards him. Maybe they finally realized he was awake or maybe they could tell something was up. Who knows. They both wrap around his legs in a loving manner, trilling softly.

He bends down to scratch behind their ears, earning a loud purring sound as a reward. There fur is soft against his skin. It reminds him of quiet nights alone with only the cats to keep him company. He’ll miss them.

*HONK*

The driver's here already. Nick better run before his mom gets up to investigate. Careful not to let the cats out he slips out the door turning the porch light on as he leaves. The air is warm and almost humid despite the lack of sun. The cicadas have gone silent, and all is still. There’s not even a bit of wind to touch the windchimes. It’s eerie, to say the least. 

Nick waves to the driver as he makes his way down the pathway towards the street. The driver grumbles a bit about having to wait but stops short of actually complaining to Nick when he gets a good look at Nick’s arm. Still heavily bandaged. As the car starts to rumble and move, Nick relaxes into the backseat. Only sparing a glance at the old house as it fades into the distance.

He sees the curtains move ever so slightly and the door swing open as they leave. But it's something he doesn’t really want to think about right now. That’s something for tomorrow’s Nick to worry about.

The drive to Dallas is about an hour with the light traffic of the morning. A few small cars zipping down the highway on their way to work.

Nick had always hated driving in Dallas. Even late at night the traffic rarely seemed to stop. Spending hours stuck on random on loops because someone had stopped 4 miles up ahead. It was a mess any time of day you went. Fort Worth was much the same. People piled into tiny lanes like sardines, construction on every corner, and about every 5 minutes or so someone came careening down the highway narrowly missing the slower driver in front of them.

As much as Nick hated the traffic, there was something about being stuck in a place and blasting music at the loudest volume he could stand. There was something about sneaking out to go to fair park every year. There was something about driving downtown and window shopping for things he could never dream of owning. He’d miss the city.

It doesn’t hit him until he’s on the bus that there’s a chance he’ll never come back. A very strong one. Despite everything. It was his home.

Nick tries to distract himself the rest of the ride. He's cried enough the last few days.

The bus Nick gets on is a fairly large one. Or at least he guesses it is. He’s never been on one. Its decently sized windows are outlined in thin aluminum. If it weren’t for the rust, it would look sorta futuristic. Deep blue seats that seem slightly faded. Probably from some mixture of use and sun bleaching. One thing he notices is that, despite its size, the bus is nearly empty. With the exception of a middle-aged woman sitting in the back with a book, Nick can’t see the title to.

Nick guesses it's because they’re both early. The bus won’t be leaving for at least another 10 minutes. He glances out the window and almost stops breathing.

He sees a woman with a wiry brown bun wearing a pink crossover shirt. It was the shirt she’d worn when dad had left. A bright fuchsia made of scratchy material and bad memories.   

It's his mother, it has to be.

She’d followed them.

She’d chased him down.

She’s going to drag him back to that house.

She…

But it isn’t.

When the woman turns around, she’s lacking the dark circles, the same fake expression, and the pale cherry pink lipstick. With a sigh, he relaxes back into the seat deciding not to people watch for his own sanity. Something that seemed to be slipping through his fingers more and more nowadays.

A few minutes pass and the last two passengers hurry themselves onto the bus, taking seats close to the door. The two younger guys that had just arrived, start whispering and laughing as they take to looking around the bus. Nick hopes they won’t be too loud. He doesn’t know if his head can take it.

They quite down, thankfully, when the bus driver steps on. The next stop won’t be for a few hours so there all stuck with each other until then. Nick digs his phone and his headphones out of his bag. At least he’s taken his medication, so the pain in his arm is only a dull ache. Like he’s just overworked the muscle.

Nick tries finding music to listen to, but nothing sounds right. It all sounds dull and- distant. Maybe he’s getting sick. He sighs heavily again. Turning his attention back out the window. It’s gotten considerably lighter outside, painting the dull buildings with varying shades of pinks and lavenders. The highways are busy, hundreds of people crammed into too small of lanes. Ah, the traffic.

It reminds him of something that happened a few years ago. Where his mother was driving them to go to a museum or something. Where they were going never mattered. Half the time they never made it to their intended destination.

“You’ll like it when we get there.” She’d said her smile not reaching her eyes. It was fake, just as it always was. Her own constant state of being.

“Oh, cool.” He’d responded. It was early, he wasn’t really paying attention. That’s how all of the situations he’d gotten himself into started. He just never paid attention.

“You know,” She had started with her face switching between annoyance and fake happiness. “Your lack of enthusiasm leads me to believe you're not grateful for what I’ve given you.” She’d gone on these tirades before. It started happening almost every other week at some point and sometime after that Nick had stopped listening.

“Do you know what I’ve given up for you?” She told him every chance she got. “Your dead-beat father didn’t want you.” That was crystal clear to everyone by that point. “I WANTED to raise YOU.” Did she? Did she even love him… at all?

Surely at some point, she must have. Surely…

“I want you to know,” She continued, sharp nails tapping the steering wheel. “I’m the only one who loves you.”

“Sure, mom.” Oh, she’d hated that response. Her nose scrunching in disgust. They’d turned around and gone home. That’d been the night she’d he’d broken a plate and tore his leg open from the shards.

Nick sucked in a breath. No more looking out the window.

The guys in the front were getting louder, more excited as they got closer and closer to their next destination. Laughing hysterically at their own antics, pushing and joking with each other to a near-constant degree.

Part of Nick wondered if Dream and him would be like that. Their conversations had always been so, easy. Even when one of them wasn’t feeling up to it, there wasn’t ever a time that was strained or extraordinarily uncomfortable. Well except for their fight.

George had told him before he’d hung up that morning that Nick was ‘Just being an idiot’ and ‘Needed to man up and just call Dream’. But that was easier said than done. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. Dream had no idea what was going on and while he’d sort of told George. He’d sworn George to secrecy with the promise he’d talk to Dream about it. There was just one little problem, Nick wasn’t ready to tell Dream. At least not yet.

Maybe never.

Nick swallowed down the bit of bile that had managed to make its way into the back of his throat. He would tell Dream. He would…

You know you won't.

It’s fine. It’s fine if he doesn’t. It’ll be fine.

This was a bad idea.

No, no it wasn’t. He needed to getaway. She’d kill him if he didn’t.

You don’t know that.

Nick pauses. The voice was right.

There wasn’t solid proof she’d kill him. Sure, she hurt him. More than once, but that didn’t mean she’d kill him. Maybe her punishments were a bit excessive, but she meant well. She just wanted to keep him safe. She loved him. She must have.

You should go home.

Maybe he should. The sooner he got back the less mad she’d be. Maybe they’d go to that museum she’d promised years ago. Maybe they’d just act like everything was normal and go to breakfast. Maybe…

Suddenly Nick jolts forward. The bus had come to a stop in front of a bus station. They’re in Shreveport. The two guys in the front jump up laughing as they grab their bags and exit the bus. The woman closes her book and quietly exits the bus with only her purse. Leaving Nick as the only passenger on the bus.

“Better get out and stretch your legs son.” It’s the bus driver. An older man whose back cracks as he stretches. Nick can only nod in response as the driver exits and he’s left alone.

You should go home. You don’t belong here.

Gripping his bag tightly, Nick gets off the bus. It's not as hot outside as it was in Dallas, but it’s just as humid. The air causing his t-shirt to stick to his skin uncomfortably.

He wants to go home.

Before he'd realized it, he’s at the ticket counter. Standing slightly back scanning the board for a ride back to Dallas. It takes a minute, but he finds one that leaves in an hour. Within four or so hours he’ll be at home. Back in his bed with his cats who sleep on top of his chest. With the dresser with too many scratches. With the kitchen that has a plethora of unused gadgets. With the pecan trees that seem to touch the skies. With the cicadas that ring out in the middle of the night. With…

As he’s reaching for his wallet his hand brushes against something. Grabbing hold, Nick pulls it out of his pocket.

It’s the shelter card. “In case the accidents weren’t accidents”

Nick wants to puke. He can’t go home. He didn’t even have a home. He hasn’t in awhile.

But you do, it's back with mom…

No, no that wasn’t home. He can’t go back. He won't.

You will. You always do.

Nick’s breathing erratically, causing the few other people around him to give him worried looks. But Nick can’t pick out facial features, everyone’s a blur.

He feels sick.

Nick bolts to the bathroom which, thankfully, is just a 5 by 5 room with a door that locks. He’s still panicking as he gets into the bathroom quickly turning on the water hoping the sound will calm him.

It doesn’t.

Stomach-churning and mind spinning, he can’t stand it. He pukes into the sink. All that’s there is stomach bile, but it makes him feel better that there’s nothing left to move in there.

5 minutes later despite being calmer, Nick’s still breathing heavy, sweat dripping down his face. His back against the wall for stability. He can’t go home. He just can’t.

But you have to.

No, he doesn’t. He can’t.

You will.

The voice is tormenting him now. He needs quiet. He needs peace. He needs…

A DISTRACTION.

Nick franticly pats at his pant pockets, looking for his phone. He finds the slim piece of tech in his back pocket loaded with more notifications. White boxes blanketing the screen, he makes a mental note to reply to them later.

You won't. They hate you. That’s what mom said, she’s never lied before.

Nick gets on discord and clicks on the call list. He needs to get out before it swallows him up. Before the voice convinces him he’s crazy.

You are. She never hurt you.

But she DID. She did and that’s why he’s left. She’d kill him. She’d…

You did it to yourself.

“Sapnap?” Oh,

That’s not George…

Nick can’t breathe. His vision is spinning again. He feels sick. He gags, but there’s nothing left.

“Sapnap breathe. I need you to breathe.” He can’t. Nick can’t, he’s messed up so much. He doesn’t have a home, he’s not safe and he’s going crazy. “Ok, new tactic. I want you to tell me what you can see right now. Give me 5 things Pandas.”

“5?” His voice sounds small and horse.

“Just 5.” Just 5 he says. Like it’s an easy task while the room is spinning. Nick closes his eyes for a moment trying to stave off the nausea. When he opens them, his hands have migrated to his face. His fingers are, thankfully, much less enclosing than the gray walls.

“My han-ds.”

“Ok” Nick pulls his hands down. His breathing is still erratic, but at least the room isn’t spinning as much.

“The-re’s a crack-ed mirror on- the wall. There’s gum beside it and- and there’s graffiti on the wall. My bags on the ground.” Dream humms in acknowledgment and… its grounding.

“Ok, you’re doing great. Tell me 4 things you can feel.” 4 more things? The first one was hard enough.

“I feel sick.” Dream laughs lightly taking the darker joke in jest.

“Not like that,” His voice is warm, and Nick feels guilt crawling up his arm at the protective feeling it brings. But he stays silent. “I want you to tell me things you physically feel. Like is it cold where you are?”

“No- No it’s muggy like it's- going to rain.”

“Ok good. What else?”

“The shirt I’m wearing is soft.” It was one Dream had given him. A warm orangey-red. “The wall’s kinda rough and uh- “Nick pauses to push his hair away from his face. Had he poured water on himself? The last 10 minutes had been a blur. “My hair’s wet.”

“Good, good. We’re going to go through the whole thing, so you’re really calmed down, ok?” Nick nods, even though he knows Dream can’t see him. Dream goes on anyway. “Ok, give me 3 things you can hear.”

Nick stops to listen. Now that he’s calming down it’s getting easier to focus. He swears he can hear people outside the bathroom chatting and clanging around the station. “There are people outside and- “The soft strumming of a guitar is there too. “Someone’s got a guitar and- and there’s engine sounds too.” Nick’s breathing is starting to level out.

“Next, give me 2 things you can smell.”

“Puke.”

“Gross.”

“At least it's mine.” The jokes are coming easily, and Nick couldn’t have been more relieved. “There’s a gas smell too. Like at a gas station.”

“Last one. Give me something you can taste and don’t tell me puke, or I swear…”

“You’ll what?”

“I don’t know, I’ll think of something.” Nick laughs. It's not a bright one. It’s not loud, it’s not overindulgent, but it’s there. And it’s a wonderful thing.

“My mouth tastes kinda gross not gonna lie. Didn’t brush my teeth this morning.”

“Gross.”

“At least I’m honest.”

You aren’t.

“What happened Sap?” Now that Nick was calmed down Dream was going back to the heart of the issue. Persistent bastard. “Sap?”

“I uh- “Nick fumbled. This would be just as bad as last night. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit it. “I left.” Is what he settles on. It's not what happened. Not even close, but it gives Dream something and maybe that’s enough.

“You left?” Dream parrots, sounding confused. “Like, you left your house?”

“Yeah, got a bus ticket.” That wasn’t the whole truth either. George had gotten him one because he was too distraught and too broke to get one himself.

“Where are you going?” That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Was he going to Florida or… going back to that house. “Pandas?” Fuck that nickname and how warm it made him feel.

“I don’t know.” And that right there was the most honest he’d been with Dream during their entire conversation. Nick hated that.

“Uh ok. Where’s the bus heading?”

“Florida.”

There’s a pause. A defining one. The one he usually gets when Dream is frustrated. Nick can feel his muscles tensing again. There’s a deep sigh from the other side of the phone. He’s messed up. He knows he has-

“So, why the confusion on where you’re going? You’re coming here, right? I told you Sap; you can come stay if you need it.”

“We got into a fight- “

“A stupid one and I’m sorry I neglected you. Even if I was busy, I should have told you instead of completely ghosting you. That was my fault.” Nick desperately wants to apologize for being jealous, for being angry over nothing, for almost ruining their friendship. But he can’t and Nick hates himself for it. “Anyway Sap,” Dream continues after Nick stays silent.” you’re still my friend and I stand by what I said.”

“When I joined the call. I was- I was debating if I should just go back to the house.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about and quite frankly we shouldn’t be having that conversation after you just had a panic attack. But you said earlier during the panic that someone hurt you. Are you hurt?” Shit, he’d said that out loud.

“A little.”

LIAR

“Sap if someone hurt you. You can’t go back.”

“I know- “And part of him knows and believes that wholeheartedly. “But I have this voice that’s telling me to go back.”

“Do you need a distraction?” Nick wants to cry again. “Sap. I need you to stay with me.”

“I’m here.” And he is. He’s here and not in… that house. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything. I’m doing this because I want to. Not because I have to.” There’s some low popping sound coming from the other end. He must have stressed out Dream. “What time does your bus leave?” Oh, shit the bus.

Nick grabs his bag and bolts out the door. Looking around wildly for the bus he came on. He must look insane. He certainly feels it. But he sees the bus still in the same spot with people boarding. He runs because he can’t miss his chance. He can’t go back.

You should.

HE WON'T. Nick sprints with Dreams cries of worry leaking out of his phone stopping abruptly as he gets out of range for the station's Wi-Fi. His lungs burn. He already feels exhausted from lack of sleep and his impromptu panic attack, but he can’t stop. Just as the doors try to shut, he gets to the old aluminum doors.

“Almost didn’t make it kid.”

“Sorry I- “He has to stop to catch his breath at the front of the bus.

“It’s alright just go sit.”

The bus is fuller now. With most of the front seats full of passengers. Nick notes as he makes his way towards the middle the two guys from earlier are gone but the woman with the book is still sitting in the back. There’s still plenty of room for him to find a seat by himself however and he’s grateful to whatever god is out there for it.

Nick reconnects to the busses Wi-Fi and rejoins the discord call. Earning him a load “WHAT THE HELL SAPNAP.” Causing him to rear back from the sudden noise. He looks around for a minute hoping that no one else heard that. Thankfully, everyone else seems preoccupied.

“Dream quiet down I’m on the bus.” Nick hisses but there’s no malice. He digs his headphones out of his bag.

“Well, I was trying to talk to you, and you left the call.”

“I had to run and catch the bus.”

“Well,” Long sigh. “Glad you caught it then, but you had me worried.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Quit apologizing.”

“I’m sor- I mean uh- alright.” There’s a wheezing laugh that comes through the headphones. Nick already feels like he’s home.

“Want- “Dream can’t control his laughing long enough to talk and it causes Nick to break into a laughing fit. “I’ve missed this.” Dream manages.

“Yeah I- ha I have too.”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to just talk or listen to music.”

“Both. Give me both.”

“So, demanding.”

“No that’s George.” Dream laughs again.

“I can’t argue with that.” There’s a smile to Dreams voice. Nick almost swoons.

“But George would.”

“No doubt. Have you listened to Wilbur’s band's new EP they put out?”

“I haven’t. Been off the internet for weeks.”

“I’ll send it to you.”

They spend the next several hours off and on talking about their weeks. With the exception that neither one of them mentions Nick's possible injuries, why Nick left his house, or soulmates. Nick has to change busses a few times but Dream’s patient with him and stays on the call. The trip is a long one and every so often George, Bad, or Punz joins the call to chat idly. None of them question why Nick was gone, but they do mention some things just before leaving the call again.

He gets a “Happy you’re doing better!” from Bad. Punz pauses and with the most serious tone, Nick’s heard from the blonde, he says “I’m glad you’re back. We were really worried for you man.”

It leaves a fuzzy feeling in his chest knowing that the voice was wrong. Maybe the voice was wrong about a lot of things.

Dream had gotten off the call about an hour ago to get stuff ready for Nick to arrive and to drive to come to pick him up. This left Nick with a bundle of nerves as the bus neared its destination. He knew he looked terrible, that mirror 2 stops back had confirmed as much, and with his luck Dream would look like a god riding in on his golden chariot.

Ok, it wouldn’t be that bad, but Nick couldn’t have looked worse if he tried. So, he decided that when they got to the bus station, he’d try to make himself a little more presentable. Or at the very least not look like he was on the brink of death.

When the bus stopped Nick hurried himself off making sure to grab all of his luggage before exiting. Dream had sent him a message that he’d be a few minutes late. Which was perfect for Nick, just enough time to go change and wash his face.

This bathroom was a bit better than the last few he’d been in. By that, he meant that there wasn’t gum on the walls and it smelled of bleach. Lovely.

At least it was clean.

Nick put his bags down and looked in the mirror, grimacing. He’d be in here for a bit. Nick sighed and got to work. Washing his face, tying up his hair, changing his clothes. By the time he was done, there was a marked improvement. He still had dark circles under his eyes, not a whole lot he could do about that, but other than that he looked somewhat put together. He hoped Dream wouldn’t make fun of him for the lime green hoodie that had become extraordinarily important in the last couple of days.

Nick was glad he’d washed it. It was one of the few things that didn’t smell of flowers.

Walking out of the station Nick put on a brave face. Well, tried to. It’s just Dream. You’ve known each other for years. Everything will be fine.

Nick is practically vibrating from both excitement and nerves. His hands anxiously grasping at his backpack straps. He looks around a minute trying to scan the parking lot for any sign of Dream. They’d told each other what they were wearing, and Dream had sent a message that he was outside…

“SAPNAP!”

Nick turns to see a boy with blond hair and a bright red shirt waving at him from a passenger side window. He smiles and waves back. Nervously making his way towards the car. When he’s a few feet away Dream jumps out and crashes into him. Trapping Nick in a bone-crushing hug. It's incredibly warm.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Dream says pulling back slightly, his smile radiant even in the dead of night.

“I am too.” And he means it, with all of his heart. They stand there a second taking it all in when.

“Ehhh boys.” They both jump. In the driver’s seat of the car, there’s a woman with the same dirty blond hair as Dream, the same slightly awkward smile, even the same pointed nose. Oh, that must be… “I hate to interrupt but I want to make sure I get you both home safe before you start catching up, alright?”

“Sorry, mom.” Dream smiles sheepishly and grabs Nick's bags before heading to the trunk, leaving Nick to just stand there awkwardly.

“You can get in sweety I don’t bite.” Nick stays put. In the light, he can’t tell if she’s lying. He doesn’t have a baseline on her yet.

“Come on Sap.” Dream’s beside him again grabbing Nick's arm. Unfortunately, Nick’s arm has had just about enough for the day. The hug was one thing, but a grab was too far. Nick lets out a loud yelp, backing away cradling his still injured arm. “I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t- What happened?” Dream panics eyes wide with shock and horror.

“No, No its ok.” Nick tries to reassure him. “I just- my arm got hurt is all.” Dream’s face flashes to something darker. It’s so quick that if Nick had blinked, he would have missed it. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced with the same calm smile he’d been wearing the minute before. “I’m sorry.” It’s so ingrained at this point Nick just does it automatically.

“Why are you apologizing Sap?” Dream has that ‘LOOK’ on his face. Nick hates that his best friend feels the need to wear it.

“You looked angry.” Dream’s eyes widen for a second before his lips quiver. He looks like he’s going to cry, and Nick can’t blame him, he wants to cry.

“I’m not Sap. I promise.” Nick wants to believe him. He really does. “I was angry because of the conversation we had when you left Texas. Because I thought maybe that’s what had happened. Is that how you got hurt?”

“I… I mean…”

COWARD

“Dream I just…”

JUST SAY IT

“I… She…”

SAY IT

“I wa-nt to tell- you.” Nick chokes out his shoulders starting to shake. Tears beginning to spill down his face. Todays been too much. “But I- can’t.” There’s pain running up his arm it feels like the skin is peeling. Like the warm spring rains are pelting at it, making him sick with pain. He hears his mother trying to usher him into the truck. It's overwhelming. He just wants it all to stop.

But there’s something else there. A warmth across his back. A steady presence in front of him. Someone’s head is on top of his.

“It’s ok Pandas. It's ok. You’ll be ok.”

And Nick wants to believe that. He really does. He’s just not sure he can.

Chapter Text

Clay feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. The overwhelming burning that he's always felt when he's around Sapnap—no Nick, is gone. Replaced by a warmth that washes over him like a summer rain. When he first read the message, he thought he was dreaming. Surely, he must have misread it. Surely.

But he hadn’t.

Sap— Nick was his soulmate. Clay’s joy is immeasurable. Like a kid on Christmas, he runs around his house unable to contain his joy.

The person he's been in love with for so long is his soulmate. His best friend. He wants to shout it from the rooftops. He wants to join every discord call he can and shout at the top of his lungs that Sapnap is his soulmate. They’re each others’ soulmates. He still can’t believe it.

And what's even more unbelievable is that Sap—Nick loves him back.

Clay’s smile couldn’t get any bigger if he tried. He writes back quickly sending a “There’s something I have to tell you.” And waits.

But he’s not getting a reply today. Instead, the messages on his arm, his joy, his love, are gone. Replaced by twisted black streaks as if they’d been washed off poorly. His gut churned. It was fine. Nick would still see his messages. Everything would be fine.

It isn’t until he’s changing into sweats later that night. When he sees the thing, he’s been dreading. In big black lettering read the name of a hospital with a phone number. He felt sick.

He sends the same messages as last time. What else can he do? He doesn’t even have Sapnap’s last name. He can’t even call the hospital to check on him. His soulmate, his best friend, SAPNAP could be dying in a hospital in Dallas.

And there’s fuck all he can do about it.

Clay calls his mom because he doesn’t want to think about how Sap—Nick is hurt. He just can’t right now. 

“That’s the second time in—what 4 weeks?” His mom asks, her tone curious but concerned. Clay can hear his siblings bickering in the background. There’s a beeping sound from the water boiler his mom has for tea, a loud whirling from the air conditioner, and an agonizing squeaking noise that’s coming from the chair at the far end of the kitchen table. It’s familiar and comforting. He almost asks his mom if he can come home for a night.

“Yeah.” Sapnap had always been a bit accident-prone. It seemed like it was a yearly event with him. Clumsy… was the word Nick had used but Clay was clumsy. Clay was absent-minded half the time he was walking around his own house. Randomly bumping into walls and stubbing his toes became routine after a while. Hell, he’d managed to slice his hand open 2 months ago and had to run to the emergency room.

But the things that Sapnap described happening, were starting to make less and less sense. How do you drop a skillet and break your ankle but not your foot?

What was worse was the fact that the number of injuries had kept adding up. There was a time he had to get stitches for his leg, another when he dislocated a shoulder, a broken leg, a broken ankle.  Sapnap’s hands weren’t excluded from that list either. When they’d first started talking Nick had broken his hand. Most of the injuries didn’t have stories to them but maybe that was because Clay had never really asked.

They were kids. Who’s going to question if one’s got more bruises than another?

…

No one had asked.

No one.

“Clay, honey I’m sure there’s an explanation for it.” He’s trying to focus on the sounds of the lively kitchen. He doesn’t want to think about the very real possibility that’s popped into his head. Because it’s horrifying. “Honey?”

“I’m here just—” Worrying.” I’m good.”

*Pop* *Crack*

“You’re popping your fingers. I know it’s terrifying. I know you’re scared but he was fine last time—”

Abuse. It explains everything. The request to keep the messages they sent in vary hidable spots. The reason Sap was left alone while he was so sick. The reason he keeps getting hurt. It explains everything and nothing at the same time.

Because if it is abuse. If Sapnap is being abused… who’s doing it?

Clay hopes he’s wrong. That it’s all a big misunderstanding.

Please God let him be wrong.

*Pop* *Crack*

Clay’s gut is rarely wrong…

and unfortunately, today isn’t one of those days.

It takes a bit of coaxing but Clay’s able to get Sap—Nick into the backseat. The ride home is eerily quiet with the only sounds coming from the crunching of the tires. Even his mother is strangely quiet on the drive.

When they arrive Sapnap immediately jumps out and disappears around the corner where the front door lies. Leaving the two blondes sitting in silence.

“Text me later, yeah?” His mother says quietly as she anxiously fiddles with her hair.

“I’m sorry mom…” Clay starts but his mother is quick to interrupt.

“No, no it’s fine. He seems—” She pauses, her nose scrunching up as she tries to find the right words. “He’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah—”

“Don’t go blaming yourself for it.” His mom interrupts. “I know how you think. I raised you after all. You know who’s fault it is? The one who hurt that boy. Not everything is your fault, sweet pea.” His mother gives Clay a reassuring smile. Gently leaning back to take hold of his hand.

“I just feel like…like I could have done something.”  Returning her comforting gesture, giving her hand a squeeze.  

“You didn’t know.”

“But I should have!” Clay says, his voice rising. “Were best friend’s I should have!”

“You didn’t know you needed to look.” She gives him a sympathetic look before glancing up towards the corner of the house. “We’ll talk more about this later. You mopping, over what you could have done or what you should have noticed, isn’t going to help him. What’s done is done. You can’t change the past. But you can help him. Right now, he needs someone to be there to hold his hand and tell him everything will be ok.”

Clay sighs unbuckling himself and opening the door. “You’re right.”

“Usually am.” She says giving him an encouraging smile. “Remember text me later.”

“Got it! Love you!” Clay half-waves, bags in hand, as he makes his way up the path towards the front door. Nick is there fidgeting in place as he waits. He’s distracted, so much so that he doesn’t notice Clay walk up and jumps when he speaks. “Sorry, mom wanted to talk to me about family stuff.” It’s a fib of course but Sapnap’s already stressed out enough.

“No, I’m sorry I just ran—”

“You’re stressed Sap it’s fine. It’s fine.” Clay tries to reassure but Sapnap doesn’t seem to be buying it. He gets a deep frown in response. It’s going to be a long night. “Uh, right the door… um…” Clay sets one of the bags down, patting his pockets looking for his keys. Nick makes a grab for the bag he sat down in the meantime. “Got it.” Holding out the rediscovered key in success, snatching the bag before Nick can tell him no. “And I got it don’t worry about it.”

Sapnap steps through the door but stands close to the door nearly curling in on himself as Clay walks by towards the living room. The sight makes his heart ache. “Come on Sap.” He beckons giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile towards the brunette. Sapnap does step away from the door, but his arms stay firmly around his stomach in a protective manner.

“It’s ok. It’s safe.” Clay says, shuffling the bags so he has a free hand. He holds it out for Sapnap to take, but the gesture only makes Sapnap angry. His dark eyes scrunching up, his brow furrowing and his mouth gaining a distinct frown.

“I’m fine.” He argues. Ah, so it’s this again. There’s no use trying to reason when he’s like this. As stubborn as Clay is, Nick has always been more so.

“Alright. Sorry…” Clay doesn’t like pulling back, but he doesn’t want to scare Sap-Nick off. They’ll talk about stuff. It will just take a lot of time.  “Here’s your room.” Clay says placing the bags in the spare bedroom. The rooms barely got any furniture in it. Just the bare minimum of a bed, a side table and a lamp. Not like Clay ever had visitors anyway. Well other than his family who lived barely 30 minutes away. There’d never been a reason to mess with it. Now he wished he’d at least tried to make it feel less… unwelcoming.

“Thanks.” Sapnap essentially kicks him out. Slamming the door as soon as Clay’s out of the room making him flinch. Leaving him alone in the ever-darkening hallway. The only sound coming from Patches who mews softly as she wraps around his legs. Probably wondering why, he isn’t in his room for the night.

It's going to be a long week…

When Clay had imagined what Sapnap visiting would be like, this wasn’t even a possibility in his mind. It’s been three days of radio silence from his best friend. The silence he could handle, Clay’s got four siblings for crying out loud. It's a slow day when one of them isn’t mad about something, but somehow sat NAV had taken that to a whole new level. He hadn’t even seen a sign of life from Sapnap. Just a door shut tight.

Well, no signs might be an exaggeration. He had heard Nick once in the middle of the night. There was a loud crash, which sounded suspiciously like glass, but by the time that clay had rounded the corner to the kitchen he was already gone. There wasn't even any glass on the ground.

“I just...” Clay says cutting himself off with a frustrated sigh.

“Give him time sweet pea.”

“But—"

“Three days, while you've been pacing up and down the hallway, isn't time. He'll come to you when he's ready.”

“What if he's never ready?” It's a fear he's been grappling with over the past few days. Maybe the Sapnap he’d known was gone.

“That's a possibility.” She concedes. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it—”

*Crash*

“What was that?”

“Uh... not sure.” Clay says slowly making his way down the hall. It's when he gets to Nick’s door that he hears a scream.

“Clay, honey? What's going on?!”

“I don't—" Scream.

“Do I need to call the police?”

“Hold on.” Clay pushes open the spare room door. The room is darker than pitch. Even with the hall light the furthest corners of the room are still obscured. There’s another scream but now that he’s in the room he knows it’s from Sapnap.

“Are you hurt? Is Nick hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

Flipping on the light Clay is able to see the sorry state Nick is in. His hair slicked back, eyes uncomfortably screwed shut, his entire body drenched in sweat. Breathing uneven and harsh.

“Clay? Honey?”

“Hold on mom give me a second.”

It takes less than a second for Clay to close the gap between him and his best friend. Sap looks worse close up. He hasn’t been taking care of himself over the last few days, that much is obvious. He puts his hand on Nicks shoulder.

Sapnap screams and in the impending fear nearly takes a shot at Clay’s nose just barley missing. “Whoa! Easy!” Nick looks around rapidly like he’s expecting a monster to jump out from behind Clay. And maybe that isn’t to far from the truth, judging from those screams. “Its ok. You’re ok. You’re safe. Its just me.”

It takes a second of staring at Clay for Nick’s dilated pupils to gain some recognition. His breathing starting to come back to a bit of normalcy.   

“Sorry I just—you where screaming.”

“Just n-nightmare…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Sapnap coughs, trying to gain some type of composure.

Oh shit. His moms still on the phone. Clay puts the phone back up to his ear. “Mom—”

“Clay, honey!? What happened?” She asks frantic.

“Its ok. Everything’s ok. Sapnap had a nightmare.” He chances a glance at Sapnap and sees the brunette gain a guilty look.

“Do you need help?”

“No, I got it.”

“Ok. Let me know if you need help, ok?”

“Alright mom. Love you. Night.”

“Sorry I uh…” Sapnap doesn’t seem like he even knows what he’s apologizing for.

“Its fine Sap. I’m going to be up a bit longer if you need something.” As much as he wants to comfort Sapnap he needs to give him space. Give him time. Let Sapnap come to him.

 Clay’s nearly out the door…

“Dream wait—” Sapnap tries but stops dead when Clay turns his attention back on him.

“Do you…” He pauses. “Want me to stay?” Nicks face is blank, and the silence afterwards hangs heavy in the air. Maybe that had been a mistake. “Sorry, I was just- “

“Could you-?” Sapnap’s voice is so soft, Clay almost misses it.  Almost.

“What?” Clay questions.

“Never mind man it’s dumb- “

“Sap tell me what you need. I want to help.” Sapnap gives him a look of unease. I want to help. “Come on Sap,” He nearly begs.

“Could you stay… uh... with me?

“Sure… sure I can do that. Let me run and turn out the lights yeah? And you get changed. Nick nods. Looking down at himself.

“At least it’s not puke.” He pipes as Clay turns to leave.

“Gross.” Clay replies’ laughing.

It takes 20 minutes to get the house settled for the night. Lock the doors, feed the cat, shut off the lights. Its all routine. After grabbing the weighted comforter from his own room, Clay stops by the hall closet and nabs some sheets.

When he returns back to Sapnap’s room he’s greeted by Sapnap with a surprised look on his face sitting on the floor. Still clad in the same 4-day old clothes Clay left him in 30 minutes ago.

“I uh… didn’t think.” He didn’t think that Clay was coming back. The thought makes his heart ache, but he pushes it down. For Sapnap.

“Sorry took me a bit longer. I stopped and grabbed new sheets.” He says with a look that he hopes looks apologetic. Gesturing to the clump of olive-green fabric still clutched in his hand.

“Oh, that makes sense…”

“You should change clothes.” Clay repeats, moving towards the bed. “While I change the sheets.” He barely tugs and the sheet pops right off the bed.

“I can’t…”

Clay stops giving Nick a raised eyebrow. “Can’t?” He questions.

“Uh, they smell.” Nick says fidgeting.

And Clay can’t help himself he lets out a tiny laugh. Barely a puff of air. “What? Like they smell musty or something?” He asks, returning to his task.

“No.” Sapnap snaps defensively. “I just can’t.” Clay’s finished putting the fitted sheet on the bed and out of curiosity he eyes the duffel bag tucked into the corner. It looks at least like it was unzipped but otherwise it looks untouched. Walking over he can see a couple of T-shirts sticking out of the top. He crouches next to it and gets an overwhelming scent assaulting his nose. It’s strong enough he has to cover his nose with his hand. It nearly makes him gag. If those ugly flower wallpapers from the 50s had a scent this would be it. Smothered by perfume.

“Jesus.” Clay says, standing. The scent’s still in his nose.

“Yeah…” Pinching his nose Clay grabs the bag. “What are you doing?”

“Putting it by the washer. I’ll wash them in the mornin’.” He replies walking out of the room and down the hall. His laundry room is a tiny 2 by 4 room where the full-sized washer and dryer are barley able to fit. Well, that’s not entirely true. Clay has managed to shove a basket with two weeks of laundry in there with them.

Some things never change.

He chucks the bag next to the washer and sighs. Nick still needs something to wear. There’s no way what he’s wearing is comfortable after not changing for days.

Clay peeks into the dryer and for once thanks his ADHD-wired brain. He hadn’t put up his laundry yet. He searches through the random bits of clothing, finding a gray T-shirt and a pair of joggers. They’d be a bit big on Sapnap, but they’d work.

When he gets back to Nicks room, Sapnap’s already finished changing the rest of the bedding.

“Here.” He tosses the clothes and Sapnap’s barely able to catch them. “Go change.” Nick gives him an odd look but leaves without a word.

Clay makes short work of basically transforming the bed into a nest. He’s not much of a pillow person but a memory of an old conversation leaves him with little doubt that he needs to grab as many as he can.

Sapnap is a pillow person. “I like just being surrounded by them. Wish I had more.” He’d laughed it’d sounded so clear so bright. He wouldn’t get to hear it tonight, Clay knows that, but maybe soon. Soft, lumpy, firm, big and small he grabs them all.

It’s hope, and right now that’s all he’s got to go on.

And while he’s not a pillow person he is a blanket person. There’s some he’s bought close to Christmas while, practically, running through Walmart isles. Others, that he’s gotten from his sisters, are quilted out of old T-shirts. There’s a few that are a bit older, nearly threadbare, that he’d gotten from his mother. Made by tired and pin-pricked hands.

Picking up the old green blanket that was tucked behind the pillows in his room. He remembers when she handed him the blanket. It had been a long and painful 3 months, one of which was spent making a frog in the corner of it. She’d told him she’d never do it again, so don’t lose it.

He hadn’t, but she made him 3 more anyway.

Sapnap returns. His hair’s still greasy and tangled but his face seemed a bit brighter, like he’d washed it. With the short sleeves, he can see the extent of the burn on Sapnap’s arm. Clay’s burned his hand before when he was little. He’d barely touched the stove out of pure curiosity. Even then the burn he had was minuscule comparatively. It’s sickening how large the burn is, stretching the entire length of his forearm and even past his elbow.

“I’ll give em’ back in the morning.” Nick says awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“Sap it’s fine. I wouldn’t have given you stuff to wear if I cared. Anyway, let’s get to bed.” Clay says jumping into bed and burying himself in the nest, close to the wall. Sapnap comes closer after turning off the light but doesn’t get in bed. Clay sits up a little after a minute. “Pandas?”

“Sorry I just uh…” Sapnap stumbles, sounding flustered. “Didn’t think about the bed thing.”

“Bed thing?”

“Yeah man… uh… we’re in the same bed.”

Clay laughs. That’s what he’s worried about? “Yeah, I don’t have an air mattress.” Well, that’s not EXACTLY true. He has one, it’s just at his mother’s. “It’s fine Sap. Promise I don’t bite.”

The joke seems to have released a bit of tension as a minute later Sapnap’s climbing into bed. “Darn, that’s a deal-breaker.” Sapnap quips sending them into a fit of giggles. Clay takes it as a win and settles himself down for the night.

“Are you using these?” Sapnap questions, thumping his hand on a nearby pillow.

“Nope, I’ve got mine.” Clay says with a yawn. “I got the rest for you.” A pause.

“Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Dream don’t do this. I’m too tired for this shit.” Sapnap says sounding exasperated. Clay glances at him. His eyes have adjusted enough so he can see Sapnap with the aid of the bits of light leaking through the window from the neighbor’s floodlight. The tiredness in his face makes him seem older, highlighting every dip and crease in his skin. He hasn’t moved from the edge of the bed. Almost like he’s ready to bolt. “Dream—"

“You told me once that you loved sleeping surrounded by pillows.” He can see Sapnap’s eyebrows knit together.

“Yeah. That still doesn’t answer my question. I enjoy sleeping with loads of pillows I… I had a bunch at home. But I don’t get why you bothered with it.  I don’t get why you did any of... of this.” He pauses Clay can tell he’s trying not to cry. “Why aren’t you angry at me?”

“Why would I be angry?” They’re treading back into that frigid water again. Back to 3 months ago when Sapnap had backed away when he’d pushed. Yet here he is again poking and prodding at Sapnap like he’s a little old grass snake. Mother had told him not to poke.

His gut, however, was telling him that this time she was wrong.

“Because… because… I woke you up.”

“I was already awake. I was on the phone with my mom.”

“See! I interrupted your call.”

“We were more concerned that you might be hurt. She was asking if she needed to call 911.”

“I made you worry.”

“Yeah of course.”

“Then why aren’t you mad.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I did!” There’s a long sigh that follows. “Look I can take care of myself. Asking you to do all this was wrong of me.”

“You didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t ask me. I’m doing this because I want to. I don’t know what happened back in Texas. So, I’m doing what I can to help you.”

“Wh-y? I don’t- I don’t under- “Sapnap’s crying now. He’s got his knees pulled up and his arms covering his face.

“You’re my best friend, Pandas.” Clay wants to say more. He wants to say that he’s been in love with Sapnap for years. That he’s, his soulmate. But it isn’t about what HE wants. This is for Nick- no for Sapnap. Right now, Sapnap needs Dream.

Not Clay.

So, for Sapnap he chokes it down. Shoving it down far enough that maybe his heart won’t break. Clay reaches over and puts his hand on Sapnap’s lower back. “I’m here Sap. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”

“You’ve do-ne so- much-“And he’d do it again. He’d do anything for Sapnap. “I do-n’t deserve it.”

“You deserve so much more Pandas.” Sapnap cry’s harder. Heart-wrenching sobs ripping from his chest.

“I don’t. I—" Sapnap has to stop mid-sentence to try and catch his breath. “You’ll hate it.”

“Hate what?”

“Do-ing so mu-ch for- me.”

“I won’t.”

“You will. Sapnap sounds so tired. “And you’ll leave—"

A pause. Clay sits up, hand still gently placed on Sapnap’s back. “Sap is it ok if I hug you?” He feels like Sapnap could break at any moment. Shattering like a glass figurine against the pavement.

Sapnap only gives him a nod, his head still buried in his hands.

Clay’s careful to shift as to not agitate the burns running up Sapnap’s arm. The hug is awkward, and it certainly isn’t comfortable. But it seems to soothe Sapnap. The heavy sobs gradually slowing to a stop.

“I’m afraid—” Sapnap starts, he still hasn’t looked up. “I’m afraid that I’m going to be alone… again.” Clay goes to interrupt but Sapnap catches him first. “And don’t tell me you’ll never leave. That’s a promise you can’t make.” And he’s right. His own father had made that promise to his mother and look where that got them. But…

“Let’s take it one day at a time then. I’m not leaving tonight.”

“But the morning?”

“I can guarantee I’m not going to change my mind in 7 hours. Most of which I’ll be asleep for.” 

After a bit more coxing. Finally, Sapnap settles down enough to fall asleep. His erratic breathing calming to soft deep breaths.

It’s Clay who wakes up first, as bits of sunlight are peeking in through the windows. Everything feels warm, incredibly warm in fact.  Did the air conditioning go out?

Clay tries to sit up but quickly realizes he can’t. Turns out, he’s currently being pinned down by a certain brunette who likes to cuddle in his sleep. Who is also, apparently, a human heater in his spare time as he’s completely comfortable laying on top of the covers while the fan and air conditioning are running on full blast. His mouth slightly open, hair tucked to one side and his right leg stuck out straight as a board over the top of Clay’s legs. He’d find it adorable if he wasn’t dying of a heat stroke.

Scratch that, it’s adorable and it’s killing him.

It takes several minutes of slowly inching his way out of the cocoon but, finally, he’s out and Sapnap’s still asleep.

Success!

He checks the time. He’s still got an hour till he’s supposed to get on a call with George for a video. Plenty of time to grab something to eat. He’s able to creep into the kitchen and start on breakfast. Not like they have a ton of options. Clay hasn’t been to the store in a few weeks and the cupboard is starting to look a little bare.

But they have enough for eggs and toast. That will have to do. Maybe he’ll be able to convince Sapnap to go to the store with him later. They had made… SOME progress.

Maybe not leaving the house progress, but some is better than nothing.

He debates waking Sapnap up to eat. On one hand, Sapnap definitely hasn’t been eating enough. Even with the near bare cabinets, he can’t tell that anything has been taken. And he certainly hasn’t ordered food. Which means it’s been at LEAST 3 days since Sapnap had a proper meal.

On the other hand, it didn’t seem like he was sleeping much either… And looking at the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Clay doesn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead, he leaves a note telling Sapnap that he would be in his office and there was food in the microwave.

Thankfully, the recording goes well with George, and it only takes a couple of hours before they have enough footage.

“So…” George starts after the recording’s ended.

“So?”

“How’s being in the same house going?” It’s George’s way of asking about Sapnap without seeming too concerned.

“Uh well…” He pauses, it’s been lonely. It’s been stressful. It’s been nerve-racking. “We’ve made progress.” He offers weakly.

“Progress?”

“Well, I talked with him yesterday so that’s better than what I got the first 3 days.”

“You just avoided talking to each other for 3 days?”

“I didn’t. I just never saw him. It was like living with a ghost.”

“Jesus.”

“His arms bad. I don’t know if we need to take him to Urgent Care.”

“If it’s infected, you’ll have to drag him there. “

“I don’t know I haven’t gotten a look at it. Initially, I thought it was just his shoulder or maybe his upper arm. It’s not, George. It’s his whole arm.”

George is quiet.

“George?”

“I’m here— just.” There’s a tired sigh. “He called me.”

“Huh?”

“When he got out of the hospital, he joined a call with me and Wilbur. I’ve never heard him sound like that.” Sapnap was always the sun. Bright, shining, and sometimes overwhelming but that was Sapnap. “He sounded so defeated. Like he was just ready to lay down and never wake up.”

“He’s tired.” It’s a shit answer and he knows it.

“Dream I—" George sounds upset. “I don’t think sleep is going to fix this.”

…

“I know. But-“ He doesn’t want to think about the Sapnap from last night crying himself to sleep on a call with George. “But we have to start small. Baby steps, right?” Time, he reminds himself. Sapnap needs time. He needs time.

“What if Sapnap isn’t the same?” There’s an undercut of fear in George’s voice.

There’s that question again. What… IF… Sapnap isn’t the same?

*knock*

Startled, Clay pulls his headphones off, eyes trained to the door. There’s a squeak when it opens revealing an awkward-looking Sapnap. He looks a little funny. With his hunched posture, lopsided smile, and the borrowed oversized clothes.

But its also Kinda endearing.

“Sorry.” Sap says straightening a bit. “Patches has been glaring and meowing at me for the last ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I-“ Clay laughs slightly. Sapnap’s been here less than a week and Patches has already got him under her paw. “I uh didn’t feed her this morning.”

“I can tell.” There’s a loud meow from behind Sapnap. Clay can tell he’s trying not to laugh but with the grin on his face it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hey!” Clay hears coming from his discarded headphones.

“Sorry George. What did you say?” He asks once the headphones are back on.

“Is Sapnap there?”

“Yeah, he just walked in.” He glances back to see Sapnap try and pick up Patches. With little success.

“Mind putting him on?”

“Sure. Sap?” He says, taking off the headphones and holding them out. Earning him a confused look from Sapnap. “George wants to talk to you.”

Sapnap gives him a small shrug and takes the headphones.

“George!” Sapnap greets, eyes crinkled, cheeks dusted pink, and a wide grin stretching across his face. It feels so normal. Like this is the Sapnap they’d always heard but not seen.

His laugh’s bright and airy. Eyes of dark amber reflect the light emanating from the computer. The bit of light that catches on his collar bone that appears ever so briefly, thanks to that oversized shirt. Even the tiny scars littering his hands that stretch and contort as he leans against the desk. This…

This is Sapnap.

They talk for a bit, most of it being casual teasing. At least that’s what he can gather from Sapnap’s bits and pieces of the conversation. There is however one thing that George says that makes Sapnap’s face fall for a split second. If he hadn’t been looking, Clay would have missed it.

“I’m fine George.” It’s said with a forced smile. “Honest. I’m fine.” He can hear Sapnap’s grip on the chair tighten.

Anyone could tell he wasn’t.

“I will George.” It sounds less than convincing. “Here.” Sapnap says quickly removing the headphones and holding them out to Clay. It’s as if the mix of metal and plastic is burning his skin. He can’t get it away fast enough.

“Keep watch yeah?” George says as soon as Clay puts the headphones back on. Sapnap’s watching with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll let you know if something happens.” Clay can almost FEEL the anger pouring off Sapnap.

“Talk to you later.”

“By George.” As the call fades it becomes all too clear that Sapnap can’t get out of the room fast enough.  Because before Clay can even get out of his chair Sapnap is bustling down the hall yelling something about hearing Patches trying to get into the cabinet. It’s surreal seeing the total tonal whiplash play out in real-time.

“Sap.” He tries when he finally catches up in the kitchen. But Sapnap’s had enough for the day it seems. He’s too busy angrily slamming cabinet doors. It’s being done so quick, that he’s not even sure Sapnap’s looking in the ones he opens.

“Patches needs some food.” Sapnap repeats, not looking at Clay.  

“Sap are you-“ He pokes.

“Where do you keep the food?” He’s not even letting Clay get a conversation going.

“Pandas—”

“Just stop. I don’t want to talk about what happened. Ok?” Sapnap snaps, turning his harsh gaze towards Clay. “And quit giving me that look.”

“What look?” Clay questions genuinely confused. Sapnap gives him an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ever since I got here you’ve been giving me this look. I don’t need to be pitied, Dream. I can take care of myself.” You haven’t been eating and you haven’t taken a shower in 4 days. You call that taking care of yourself? “I want you to listen to me, I’M FINE.” You’re not. You’re my best friend I know that something’s wrong, Clay wants to chime in. But he stays quiet. “I’m sick of you and George asking if I’m ok.”

“I just—” Settling himself against the counter he closes his eyes.  He wants to fix this. He wants his best friend back. Clay has been wanting a lot of things. “I’m sorry.” Is what he settles on. He needs to back off.

They stand in the kitchen in silence. The atmosphere heavy, almost suffocating in all its awfulness. It was never supposed to be this way. Not between them.

It’s Sapnap who breaks the silence.

“Do you remember the fight George and I had a few years ago?” Clay opens his eyes to take a look at Sapnap. He’s leaning against the stove across from Clay. His arms are crossed and overall, he still looks pissed. Eyes slanted and mouth set to a firm frown. He’s not even looking at Clay, instead, his gaze is locked to the floor.

“Vaguely.” It was over something stupid. It took him a few weeks to get the two to even have a conversation in the same discord call. And that was only because he’d dragged them in there himself.

“I was so angry.” Sapnap continues, shifting his weight between his feet. Clay nods. He’s not sure Sapnap can see him, he does it regardless. “I don’t even remember what it was about.” Sapnap’s face softens to something familiar. “I think I was mad about other things, and I took it out on you guys.”

“It happens,” Clay responds softly, moving to stand next to Sapnap.

“I shouldn’t have.” Sapnap’s hands find their way onto the counter. “You guys deserved better.” The silence that follows after is a comfortable one. Clay leans on the counter, his hand coming to lay lightly on top of Sapnap’s. Ready to be snatched away at a moment’s notice.

Sapnap doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he threads their fingers. He’s still not looking at Clay.

“When the fight happened— A few days before- I’d talked to a social worker.” Clay gives Sapnap’s hand a squeeze but stays quiet. “She’d asked me if I felt safe. I told her yes like I had before with the others.” He pauses, his body tensing. Clay rubs his thumb gently across the top of Sapnap’s hand. “I- I almost told her the truth.”

Clay turns his gaze to the ceiling. It takes everything in him not to glance at Sap. Sapnap doesn’t need to see him break down. Even if its for him. He blinks heavily and takes deep breaths. He can hear Sapnap sniffle when he squeezes his hand. He can’t look at Sapnap right now. If he does the dam will break. There is something he’s got to get off his chest.

“H-ey” Clay starts, even his voice is shaky. “It was- It was never pity.”

“Hu-h” Sapnap’s grip loosens like he’s going to try and bolt. Clay holds on, because he needs to say it. The things he’s done. The thoughts he’s had. Everything he’s felt.

“The things I’ve done. They were never out of pity.” His voice is clearer, he still can’t bring himself to look at Sapnap. He doesn’t know if Sapnap’s listening, but he trudges on. “I did it because I-“ He wants to say that it’s because he loves him. “I care a lot about you and I’m just trying to take care of you. It’s not because I don’t think you can, I just want to.”

Sapnap stays quiet.

Its Patches that breaks the silence this time, meowing loudly. Right, she still hasn’t been fed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to forget about you Patch.” Clay coos softly, disconnecting his and Sapnap’s hands. He takes notice of the slight reluctance to let go but doesn’t comment. Moving to the fridge to begin the first bit of prep.

“It was in the fridge?” Sapnap seems to snap out of it, as Clay grabs a leftovers container from the fridge.

“Part of it. It’s part wet food and part kibble.” It really doesn’t take long but Patches is particular about how much of each she gets. Sapnap takes a peek at the kibble bag and coughs. “You, ok?”

“Yeah, just saw how much the food cost. Didn’t realize you were raising her as a primadonna”

“Oh come on, she’s not that bad.” Clay argues as he sets the bowl on the floor. Patches comes to sit in front of it, looking at him expectantly. “Oh right-“ He grabs one of the topper bags out of the cabinet and sprinkles it over her food. It’s only after this that she starts eating.

When he looks up Sapnap has an unimpressed look plastered on his face. “You were saying?” Alright, Patches is a TAD spoiled. Its not his fault. His mom had bought half this stuff when she’d had to take care of Patches for a week.

Course that was several months ago but still.   

“So, I was thinking-“ Clay starts again, ignoring Sapnap’s comment. “We could go to the grocery store.” He pauses trying to gauge Sapnap’s reaction. His face is a blank sheet. “There’s a small one close by. Not a lot of people most of the time.”

“I guess…” Sapnap says, sounding a little hesitant.

“Just to get a few things. It’ll be quick. I promise.”

“Alright uh…” Sapnap glances down. “Is this fine?”

Any other day Clay would have said yes. Keeping in mind that Sapnap had been doing proper selfcare. The thing is he hasn’t. Just looking at the tangles in Sapnap’s hair made his scalp hurt. And the bandages… “When was the last time you changed your bandages?”  

“I dunno couple days ago?” Days?! Maybe George was right, and it was infected. Maybe they DO need to go to Urgent Care instead of the grocery store.

“Why don’t you take a shower and get your bandages changed.” He’s trying not to crack his fingers.

“Uh…” Oh no. He’s got that same look he had last night about the clothes.

“Is something wrong?” There’s… a lot… of things wrong but let’s try and fix one thing at a time.

“No no… I uh”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He wants to bang his head against the closest wall. Then again, that’s probably not his brightest idea. Sapnap finding out that Clay’s his soul mate through a hospital message isn’t ideal.

“Sap-“ Clay tries again but Sapnap stops him short.

“I’m fine.” Sapnap’s got that fake smile plastered on his face again. “I’ll just take a shower and we’ll go.” As frustrating as it is, it also makes Clay sad. Because Sapnap’s so used to trying to hide his feelings about situations. Sapnap feels the need to hide from Clay.

It’s such a foreign concept for Clay. Sure, he hid the soulmate thing, but this is different. He’s never felt like he had to hide… himself from Sapnap. He’s always felt safe with Sap and George. The mask of fake happiness was never needed with them.

“Sap I… I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Sorry I just-“ Sapnap tries but stops mid-sentence. His face morphs into several indescribable emotions before settling on an uneasy and strained grin “You’ll laugh. It’s stupid.” There’s a puff of a laugh but it doesn’t sound happy, just tired. Sapnap’s so tired.

“Try me”

“The feeling’s not great right now.” Sapnap says rubbing his eyes with his palms. He’s so tired.  

“Like the water or the spray from the shower?” The question isn’t judgmental only inquisitive in its nature. Clay’s managed to lay his hand on Sapnap’s shoulder, he hopes it’s at least comforting.   

“The shower.” Sapnap mumbles, he still hiding his eyes.

“I have a tub in my bathroom.” Clay says quietly. They shared a bed last night but somehow this feels so much more personal and intimate. “Would that be better?”

“Maybe?” He’s at least looking at Clay now. His eyes dulled to the color of dried oak. He’s so tired… but he sounds hopeful.

“Alright follow me.” Clay manages to grab Sapnap’s hand and lead him down the hall. The bathroom’s fairly large with a double vanity, a jet tub, and a shower. A large and expansive mirror hanging just above the sinks.

He’s only used the tub once, a few days after he’d moved in. Not because he doesn’t enjoy baths, he does, but baths are a luxury in time. Time he always felt was better spent elsewhere.

“Ok here’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.” Sapnap’s giving him a blank look. Right… clothes. It’s only when Clay moves toward his dresser that he lets go of Sapnap’s hand. Sapnap seems to follow his hand if only for a second after. He tries not to think of the implications as he searches aimlessly through the drawers.

 “Here you can barrow these. I haven’t done laundry yet.” Clay says as he clumsily sets the set of clothes on the counter. Another pair of joggers and a rainbow tie-dye Buc-ee’s shirt. Both were a tad too tight for Clay, but they might just work for Sapnap.  

“Thanks. You know you don’t have to do all… this.”

“I know.” He turns to leave but stops at the door. Realization hitting him hard. Sapnap doesn’t feel safe. He hasn’t in who knows how long. Even now looking at Sapnap, with his back to Clay, he still looks nerves and jumpy. There was a thing his aunt told him one time… maybe that could work?

“Oh, if you want to lock the door just press down on this.” Clay says pressing down on the click button near the handle when Sapnap turns to him. Sapnap gives him a nod before he quietly shuts the door.

Clay’s aunt use to foster kids some years ago. She had a lot of emergency placement kids. Some would be with her a day, others a year. There where plenty of horror stories she’d told at dinner when she came to visit. But one thing that always stuck with Clay was that a lock on the door was important. Whether they used it or not wasn’t important. It was knowing that it was there that was the important thing.

She said that showers or baths especially were important. Often enough the right to privacy was taken away. Their right to feel safe in a space was taken away. As simple as a lock was, it was important.

A few seconds later he hears the ‘click’ of the lock.

Sapnap’s so tired… and sleep isn’t going to fix it.