Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello! I’m now taking writing requests. (ONLY ANGST AND HURT/COMFORT)

What I will do:

IRL fics
Trauma
Self harm
Suicidal thoughts
Non-con
Eating disorders
Panic attacks

What I’m reluctant to do:

DSMP characters. I haven’t watched all of the lore and so I’m not caught up with everyone, but you can request it. No promises it will be good!
Anything with a ship. I don’t mind that much if the content creators are okay with it or if it’s a very small thing. Ex: character 1 has a crush on character 2 etc etc.
Non-con in present. I don’t mind writing it into a character’s past and having them describe it, but if you request a scene in which it is happening as the story is progressing, I probably will not do it.
I’d prefer to not write about actual suicide (like implying the main character actually killed themself) but if it’s a good request, I’ll consider it!

What I will not do:

Absolutely no smut. If there is a non-con scene, it may be described from the character’s POV in the past, however NOTHING will be written in a smutty way.
Complete recovery. This request fic is for me to get some of my writing out there and I personally have not recovered from a lot of my mental issues. Because of this, I cannot describe complete recovery in detail. If you want the character(s) to begin recovering before the story ends, that’s perfectly fine! But I will not be writing a start to finish recovery arc.

If you would like to request something, please leave as many details as you’d like in the comments. Also, if you aren’t sure about something, just ask. The worst I’ll say is no.

(Each story will be around 1-5k words, depending on if you have any plot points in your request)
(Also if you want a character that isn't in the tags, that's also fine! The tags are there for reach.)

Chapter Text

It was a late night and the moon was nowhere to be seen in the sky. The clouds had covered it and left no traces. As I stepped inside the threshold of my apartment, I could feel the wind blowing from my window that I had left open. It left a crisp feeling to the air inside the room, and it left my lungs feeling raw. I rarely go outside, but today was a necessity. I needed food and new kitchen glasses; my last one lay shattered on the floor the exact same way I had left it this morning. I’m not sure why I expected it to all be a daydream or some horrid hallucination that was enhanced by my sleepless nights. Regardless, I subconsciously was hoping that when I returned, the broken glass would be in my cupboard, just as whole as it was yesterday.

Walking over to my kitchen, I made work of the pieces, carefully picking them up to avoid any injuries. Despite my genuine effort, a smaller piece had poked through the trash bag I was using, and had caught on my palm. I winced at the pain. It wasn’t unwelcome, just unexpected. After tending to the broken pieces, I put the new set of glasses in their respective places and unpacked the food that would tie me over for multiple weeks. I was deliberate in picking out foods that don’t perish easily. The longer they last, the less I have to go outside.

I made my way to my desktop in my office, anticipating the discord notifications that I knew were to come. After booting it up and opening the application, they started flooding in, as expected. One caught my eye, and I clicked on it before checking the others. It was in the group chat that me, Phil, Tommy, and Wilbur had together. It wasn’t important, just some shared photos from their trip to France. Despite my friends calling me and sending me photos, it still upset me that I couldn’t go. Well- it wasn’t that I couldn’t go, it was that I wasn’t invited. Of course, I didn’t ask, but it would be nice to be invited every once in a while. Even when they’re playing games or streaming, they never ask me to join. I understand, though. They used to invite me, but one day I stopped accepting. I’m not sure when, but it was like a light switch was flipped. One that forced me to be careless of everything and everyone.

As I scanned through the messages, my name caught my eye.

Wilbur
One day we will have a 4/4 SBI meetup to appease the fans. That is, if Techno wants.

I scoffed. Unbelievable, “to appease the fans.” He couldn’t have left that part out? I wanted to meetup with them for us, not for the internet. I felt sadness pang at my heart, just a reminder that they do not care about me in the way I want them to care about me.

Eventually, I realized that I had knocked into my keyboard with my arm, and it probably said that I was typing. I erased the pending keyboard spam in the text box and closed the app. I didn’t want to talk to them right now.

---

It was quiet in my apartment, my neighbors having fallen asleep long ago. The normal sound of bustle from the city had quieted, only to be replaced by the occasional car driving by. I had immersed myself in a book, and had lost around 5 hours of my night to it. A quick glance at my phone told me that everyone would be waking up soon. I could already see the sun starting to glow over the buildings parallel to me. I walked towards the kitchen to make some coffee, and turned on the light. The bulb blew as soon as I turned it on, making a popping noise. It startled me, and I hit my knees. I never did like loud noises. I found my hands over my eyes and pulled them away, catching my breath. Sometimes I have to remember that I live alone and nobody can hurt me here. The eerie silence mixed with the darkness of the room wasn’t helping me calm down, and so I stood up and went to sit on the couch. I could handle that later.

Anxiety has always riddled me, pooling in my stomach when I was called on in school or when my phone lit up with a text message. It thrived in the nighttime, while I was vulnerable to memories of when I was a child, living with my mom. Moving out of that house was the best thing to ever happen to me, and that’s saying a lot. And it pulls on my heart now, as I sit in my living room, watching my phone ring for the third time. It’s Wilbur. He knows I don’t like calls. After the shrill of the god-awful ringtone died down, I opened my phone to see what he could possibly want at such early hours in the morning. Usually he’s thoughtful with our differing time zones, but today is apparently the exception. I opened my phone to hundreds of messages, all from my friends. My heart started beating fast, worried that something bad happened. Maybe I should’ve answered the call. With little hesitation, my fingers reached for the call button in our group chat. Almost at the exact same time, everyone picked up.

There was silence, for a moment, before I decided to break it.

“Why the hell do I have like a hundred messages from you guys? Is everything okay?” I hoped they didn’t take my tone in the wrong way. I wasn’t angry, just really confused.

“Techno-”

“Why the hell didn’t you answer my calls,” Wilbur shot back, successfully cutting Phil off with a hint of mockery in his voice.

It was silent once again for a moment. I was thinking of something to say. “I was sleeping.” I finally settled on.

“Techno we’ve been messaging you for days, hell, even weeks now, with no answer.” Wilbur was angering me.

“I’ve been busy,” I chose to answer, a bit of hostility to my normally calm voice. I didn’t like conflict, let alone conflict with my friends.

“You’ve been busy…” Wilbur repeats, scoffing and going silent.

“I think what Wilbur is trying to say, Tech, is that we’ve been worried. You know what happened last time you didn’t answer us for a while, and we were rightfully starting to panic a bit with your absence.” Phil was trying to defuse us both. Unlike his usual talkative self, Tommy stayed silent.

I hung up. I don’t owe them anything, let alone an explanation to where I’ve been. Who cares if the reason I haven’t responded to them is similar to “what happened last time”? Why does it matter? I was frustrated and mad, but I couldn’t help the growing sliver of guilt that had embedded itself in my mind. I decided that I would deal with it later, just like all of my other problems. I flopped down on my couch with a sigh, and closed my eyes. Maybe this has just been a really bad dream and tomorrow I’ll feel better. It’s what I tell myself every time I go to sleep. It never is.

---

It’s been a week since I opened discord. I’ve been doing everything I can think of to avoid talking to them right now. I know I’m being detrimental to our friendship, but I couldn’t care less.

I decided to finally confront them about leaving a week ago, and just get it over with. They’d probably be pissed and just disregard it. Or maybe they’d tell me that next time I ignore them I should just block them and permanently forget about them. I wouldn’t be surprised. I opened the app, and my eyes adjusted to the screen that I hadn’t looked at in ages. The red number beside our chats had grown since I last checked. I didn’t know who’s messages to open first, and I decided on Tommy’s. His messages just consisted of a series of “I hope you’re okay”s and “we are worried about you”s. I decided to answer everyone after I read all the messages. Moving onto Wilbur’s chat, it was basically the same thing. Except, the newest message was strange.

Wilbur
I assume Phil has already told you, so when is the best date for you?

The message was sent three days ago, and I had absolutely no idea what he was referring to. Quickly, I clicked on Phil’s chat to see what he was talking about. Disregarding the prior messages, I scrolled all the way to the bottom.

Phil
Look mate, there’s no easy way to say this but we are worried about you. We just booked the earliest flight out to California since we already have our Visas. We are gonna come check on you, but please get back to me before we get there. I don’t want to have to come unexpected.

Boarding the plane now, we land at around 12 PM on Friday.

My heart started beating quickly. They were coming here? To see me? I swallowed down the anxiety and stood up. Today is Friday. It is 11:30 AM. My hands started to shake. There was no way they were serious, right? I took a few deep breaths and started cleaning, the weeks of depression needing to be non-existent before they got here. There was no way I was explaining it to them. If they are coming to my house, the least I could do is make sure it’s tidy.

After around an hour, I was almost finished with everything. The last thing to do was to sweep the kitchen and replace the light from days ago. My hands ached and my heels were sore from running around. I heard a knock at my door, and my nerves sky-rocketed. They’re here. I took a second to breathe, and quickly made my way to the door to greet them. I opened the door and shock painted their faces. Were they really that surprised to see me?

“I- I didn’t see your message until like an hour ago. My apartment isn’t completely clean yet.”

Phil was the first to step forward, embracing me with a hug. Reluctantly, I wrapped my arms around him, too. I don’t like hugs, but I’ll make an exception today. Everyone took turns hugging me, and eventually we were all just left standing awkwardly in the hallway outside of my door.

“Uh- do you- do you guys wanna come in or- something?” I was so anxiety ridden that I couldn’t think straight. They nodded and everyone stepped inside, leaving me to close the door behind us. After it clicked shut, I took yet another breath and turned around to talk.

Wilbur beat me to it. “Tech it’s so good to see you, I thought- well it doesn’t matter what I thought but I’m just glad you’re okay.” His eyes were wrinkled with worry, and his mouth hung slightly agape. I wished he’d stop staring at me.

I nodded and said, “Yeah- I mean- yeah it’s good to see you too.” I was fumbling over my sentences, and my stutter wasn’t helping matters. “You can, uh, set your bags down in the spare rooms. There’s only two but there’s two beds in one.” Tommy nodded and grabbed Phil’s bag. Wilbur joined him in the rooms to talk about something.

“Techno, how are you doing?” Phil asked genuinely. It confused me to hear this, I wasn’t used to serious questions.

Trying to brush everything off, I said, “I’m doing good, really. Like I said, I’ve just been busy.”

He glanced over to my unfinished books that have been sprawled out on my table. “Busy, huh?” I nodded bashfully. I guess I forgot to put those up.

Everything was awkward. I didn’t like it. I had a feeling that they could see through my disguise, but if they did, they didn’t mention it. Wilbur and Tommy wandered back into the living room where Phil and I were still standing. “Uh- does anyone want tea or coffee or something?”

---

Over the next week, the tension slowly eased away. I was able to laugh easily with them, and nobody asked any questions. I’m glad. I don’t think I could handle explaining myself to all of them. The closest anyone got to figuring out anything was wrong was when Wilbur asked why my cups still had a sticker on them, and I played it off as accidentally breaking my other ones. This isn’t entirely false, but what he didn’t know is that I had broken my last one due to a panic attack. Apparently shaky hands were not popular with holding things.

Eventually, the time came, and everyone was getting ready to leave. They were in the middle of packing their stuff up to drive to the airport when Wilbur’s phone started ringing. He picked it up and listened, his face morphing into a shocked one. He agreed with whoever was talking, and hung up. I was confused, but didn’t ask anything. I didn’t have to, because he then announced, “Hey Techno, is it okay if I stay a few more weeks?” Confusion played on my face, and I agreed.

“Yeah, but- why?” I didn’t mind that much, but I was curious to say the least.

“My friend just called and told me that he’s coming to the US in a few weeks. We’ve been trying to meet up for ages but his Visa keeps getting denied. I don’t see a reason to fly home and then have to get another ticket if I’m just going to come back.” I nodded my head, and left the room. I didn’t mind. As I walked away, I could hear Wilbur and Phil talking about something, but I couldn’t catch the whole conversation. “Check on,” and “ask him” were the only things I caught from his sentence, but I paid it no mind.

---

Three Days Later

I shot up out of bed, clutching at my throat. Another nightmare. I had nightmares a lot, but usually I could sleep through them. Tonight, not so much. I stood up to take a walk and calm down, and slid on mt shoes. I was wearing the same clothes as the night before, too tired to change them. As quietly as possible, I opened my creaky door. I cringed at the squeal it made, but quickly shut it behind me. I made my way towards the living room, only to see Wilbur on the couch on his phone. I was aware of the tears on my face and my beating heart, and so upon seeing him awake, I immediately turned around and made my way back down the hallway.

It was too late. “Techno?” He called for me.

I swallowed and forced my voice to steady before answering. “Yeah? What’s up?”

There was silence for a moment. And then, “Why are you awake?”

“Oh- uh, nothing I just needed to use the bathroom.” My voice cracked on the last word, and I knew instantly that I’d given myself away. I quickly walked to the bathroom anyways and locked myself inside to calm down. I could not let him see me like this.

Minutes passed with no relief, my anxiety only growing. A sudden knock on the door forced a gasp out of me, and I rushed out an answer. “What?”

“Techno are you alright? I can hear you crying. Can I come in?” Embarrassment reddened my face and I hid my head in my arms.

“No. Don’t come in.” Wilbur went silent. After I was sure he’d given up, I reached towards my cabinet, begging myself for any form of relief. Pulling the familiar metal out of it’s box, I considered just ending everything so I didn’t have to live with this trauma anymore. I’m so tired of waking up in cold sweats and getting scared by any sudden noises. I’m pathetic. I thought of Wilbur, and how he’d be the one to find me. This was the thing that made me opt out of it. Instead, I’d settle for shallow cuts; anything to calm myself.

I felt hypnotized as I watched blood form at each new cut. When they stopped bleeding, I’d add another, and then another, and then another. It was addicting in a way that I knew well, and when I ran out of space on my left arm I finally stopped. I felt calm. Blood loss wasn’t to be worried about since they weren’t deep, but I had to find a way to clean this up. I was wearing a short sleeved shirt, so I needed to sneak back to my room to hide them. After rinsing and cleaning the cuts, I searched for bandages. There were none to be found, and so I made sure the wounds were clean and unlocked the door, ready to sneak back into my room.

Fear coursed through my body when it creaked open and instead of the empty space of the hallway, Wilbur stood, waiting for me to unlock the door. Upon hearing me open it, his eyes darted up to mine, and then down. Down to my arm. His face contorted into one of pain, and I panicked and tried to shut the door again, hoping that it was all part of my imagination. Hoping that Wilbur hadn’t just seen the hundreds of small cuts all over my arm, and he was actually sound asleep in his room.

But, just as the door was almost shut, it met resistance. Wilbur grabbed the doorknob and pulled it back open. My face was red and I was shaking. He didn’t need to see me like this. He’s going to think I’m an attention seeker or a freak or-

Wilbur hugged me. He pulled me against his neck and he held me there until my breathing evened out to a normal pace, and my shoulders stopped being wracked with sobs. When did I start crying? Regardless, he held me until I was okay enough to talk, and only then did he pull back, the worry evident on his face. His eyes trailed back down to my forearm, and I pulled it back to try to hide it behind me.

“Don’t-” His voice sounded raw and raspy, and I knew that I was the one to cause this. This was my fault.

Tears involuntarily started to drip down my face once again, and all I could think of to say was, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to- please, please don’t hate me.”

Wilbur looked conflicted, and he blinked back tears of his own. “I could never- I could never hate you Techno, do you hear me?” I did, but it didn’t change anything. I averted my eyes. I looked anywhere but at him, ashamed of what I’d done. He reached around my side to grab my arm. He was gentle, and made sure not to touch any cuts. I wish he had. I want him to dig his nails into my skin so at least I would have something to hate. I can’t be mad at him when he’s being so tender and caring with me, it just isn’t right. He positions my wrist so he can inspect the cuts, scanning for any deeper ones. Finding none, he let go of my arm and hugged me again, letting out a sigh. “It’s gonna be alright Tech, do you wanna go get some sleep and we’ll talk about this tomorrow?” I thought about it a moment.

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “No uh, you go ahead and get some rest, I can’t tonight.”

“Why not?” God, why did he have to ask? I hate lying.

Before I could think of anything to say, I just whispered, “Nightmares.” He seemed to understand, and we walked out of the bathroom. He led me to the couch where we sat. A cup of water was placed beside me, and I gulped it down, thankful for the cool liquid against my throat.

“Can you tell me what the nightmares are about?” Upon hearing him say this, shame and fear flashed in my eyes again, before I shook my head. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, I just thought it would be easier for me to help if I knew.” His explanation calmed me a bit. Wilbur has been so understanding, would he really judge me for this? I haven’t told anyone about it, I wonder if he would tell the others.

“If I tell you, you won’t say anything about it?” Wilbur nodded his head, promising. I answered shortly, “My mom.”

“What- what about your mom?” Wilbur stuttered. I guess he isn’t good at these types of things either.

My heart picked up again, but I was so tired of keeping this to myself. I just wanted to be normal. “She used to hit me before I moved out. That was a long time ago, though, so I don’t know why I’m still having nightmares. It’s stupid.”

He let me talk, but immediately corrected me. “It isn’t stupid. It’s valid. I never knew that happened to you, have you told anyone else?” I shook my head again. He’s the only one. My dad had his suspicions when I begged him to let me live with him, but I never told him. Wilbur nodded his head in understanding. “Thank you for telling me, I know it wasn’t easy.” It fell silent.

---

Normalcy returned in the next few days, and we didn’t talk about that night again. I was almost comforted by this, and I was grateful he didn’t bring it back up. It wasn’t until a night, almost three months later, when he spoke of it again. He was home, and had been for weeks. It was 3 AM for him, and we were talking on discord.

“Hey, Techno?”

“Hmm?” I hummed in response.

“Have you had any more nightmares since that night?” I was quiet. “I’m sorry- I just thought that maybe- since you told me I could- I could ask about it again but I didn’t mean to overstep I’m really sorry.” He took his question back, fumbling over apology after apology.

“No, it’s alright. Um, yeah, I have.” I swallowed, and I wondered if he could sense my nervousness over the phone.

“Next time you have one, can you call me?” The question caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it. I agreed nonetheless, and dreaded the night I would have to stay true to my word. I don’t like talking about my troubles, but if Wilbur asked, I would.

Chapter Text

Sapnap sits back in his chair, appreciating the cooled leather on his back. He can hear Dream in the next room over. He’s laughing particularly loud, and Sapnap doesn’t have to ask to know who he’s on a call with. It’s the same every night. Sometimes he would sit and listen to his friends enjoying each other’s company without him. He could never make out their conversations from his own room. With only muffled giggles and the occasional word that was exclaimed rather loudly from Dream, all Sapnap could do was imagine how his voice would sound mixed in with theirs. They never asked to call with him anymore; never asked to play games or hang out.

Sapnap watched as his phone lit up, the confirmation message from DoorDash letting him know that his food was delivered. He stood up and made his way out of his room and to the front door, knocking on Dream’s closed door on the way down to let him know that food was here. Dream yelled a short confirmation, and Sapnap retrieved the food and sat down at the table. Dinner was the only time Sapnap and Dream talked, and he wasn’t about to miss his chance to hang out with his best friend.

Dream stumbled into the kitchen, his airpods in. He replied to the person on the other side, no doubt George again, and grabbed his food. As he was retreating out of the doorway, Sapnap called out to him “Dude, I thought we were gonna eat together.” Sapnap’s voice sounded exasperated, frustration bleeding into it.

Dream stopped in his tracks and turned around, a sorry look on his face. “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m on the phone with George and we’re talking about how he’s going to see his parents tomorrow.”

Sapnap’s anger calmed a bit at that, the promise of having Dream to himself tomorrow almost exciting him. He nodded and Dream turned, his footsteps trailing away while Sapnap’s food on the table cooled. He didn’t feel that hungry anymore.

The next day came, and Sapnap lay awake in his bed, exhaustion creeping over his body and weighing him down like the blankets made for anxiety. His eyelids drooped, and it was a struggle to keep them open. He had lay awake in his bed all night, listening to Dream’s muffled voice. He thought they’d have hung up by now, but here they were, at 6 AM, still talking. It was 11 AM for George, and Sapnap couldn’t help but wonder why he’s still talking to Dream if he’s supposed to be seeing his parents.

Sapnap opens his phone and sends George a message.
Sapnap
Aren’t you going to see your parents today?

He watches as the “typing…” pops up, and then disappears. A laugh from Dream’s room makes embarrassment course through Sapanp’s body. Did they lie to him?? He takes a shaky breath and just decides to go to sleep. He’ll feel better after he gets some rest…right?

Surprisingly, he did actually feel better after some sleep. He checked his phone for any new messages and was disappointed to find none, but maybe everyone was busy. Sitting up, his mind felt clouded and he waited for a moment for the dizziness to subside. After, he made his way downstairs.

In the kitchen, Dream sat scrolling through Twitter. He gave a small nod to Sapnap to let him know that he noticed him walk in, but made no attempt to look up from his phone. “Hey.”

”Hey,” Sapnap replied without energy.

”You just wake up?”

Sapnap nodded, and then Dream continued. “You left your food on the table last night.”

”Sorry,” he replied. He wasn’t. “Did George see his parents?” Sapnap was being polite at this point.

Dream looked up, then back down. “Yeah, he didn’t message you back?”

Sapnap couldn’t help but notice the twitch at the corner of Dream’s mouth, and he takes a discrete breath in to keep himself sane. “No.” He answered bluntly.

The rest of the day was normal, and Dream didn’t try to talk to him again.

Later on, while he was scrolling through twitter, he saw someone on his timeline talking about how much Sapnap negativity was going around. Curiosity was always one of his traits, and so he typed in the phrase he knew so well. The top tweets were all talking about how people shouldn’t be tweeting Sapnap neg, but as he scrolled, some other ones caught his eye.

// Sapnap neg
was it just me or does Sapnap look like he’s gaining weight LMAOO

// Sapnap neg
dude i hate him so much, idk why people like him he’s not even attractive

Sapnap sighed and closed his phone; anxiety and hurt pooled in his stomach. Needing an outlet for the emotions he so wished to ignore, he headed to his private bathroom.

Sapnap slammed the door behind him, not caring if Dream heard anymore. He was so tired. So tired of Dream and George acting like they were better than him. Tired of people hating on him for no reason. Tired of not being able to eat without thinking about how much he’s gaining or how many calories he’d have to burn to look good again. He was just tired.

He fumbled around in his medicine cabinet for a moment before pulling out new blades, never before used. His fingers hurt from trying to open the package, but when he finally did, he took a deep breath and started slicing at his arm. A laugh made it’s way from the back of his throat and he couldn’t help but wonder how messed up he had to be to laugh at this.

His friends hated him. His fans probably felt sorry for him. Anger was building inside of him, and his hand slipped from its tight grip on his tender forearm. He watches as the new razor cuts much deeper than he was used to, and the blood ran down his arm. It pooled in his hand, and then dripped onto the floor. His eyes begin to droop closed, not unlike that morning.

The world began to flash in and out in slow blinks. Sapnap barely realized that he was on the floor until he was, and even then his mind didn’t register the deep red staining his bathroom tile. He heard Dream at the door, banging on the wood. Sapnap had locked the door, but he knew that if Dream wanted to get in, he would.

Since he had fallen by the opening, Dream could no doubt see blood starting to seep out from under the door. Sapnap barely stayed conscious as he heard Dream unlocking the door with his master key and snatching it open. He watched as his best friend sat him upright in his arms. There were tears cascading down his cheeks and mixing with the red on the floor. His jeans were soaking up the color. They would have to be thrown away.

Sapnap let out a strangled breath as he listened to Dream’s shaky voice direct the emergency operator to their house. In the meantime, Dream sat Sapnap up aside the door and quickly grabbed some gauze from the cabinet, completely disregarding the package of razors waiting for someone to use. He wrapped the wounds in gauze, then tape.

He wasn’t conscious when they arrived, and he didn’t remember the trip to the hospital. When he wakes up, the beeping of the machines and the stiff bed under him are the only indications of where he was; the memories from how he got there were gone.

Sitting up in brief terror, he notices Dream beside his bed.

”Woah! Lay back down Sap, everything is gonna be okay. It’s Dream. I’m here.” His gentle words soothed the other, and Sapnap did eventually lay back down. Still disoriented, he asks as many questions as Dream would answer about how he managed to get there. Eventually, a doctor walks in and talks to them both, though Sapnap retains nothing of what he said.

Days go by, maybe weeks, and Sapnap doesn’t talk about what happened. Dream doesn’t leave his side, and every other day there’s a mental health specialist in his room to talk to him. He answers their questions with lies, too ashamed to explain what happened in front of his friend. Regardless, he’s discharged within a little while with nothing more than a few pamphlets on how to manage trauma and stress. Not much is said in the car ride home, but when Dream parks the car and makes no move to open the door, Sapnap could tell he wanted to talk.

”So.” Dream said. He sounded like he was trying not to cry. His eyes were trained forward, watching as the sky started to rain slightly.

”So…” Sapnap replies. He’s trying to mock him comedically, but he can tell by the look in Dream’s eyes that now isn’t the time.

Dream takes a deep breath and continues, “What happened?” Sapnap wasn’t expecting him to be so blunt. He was expecting at least a little bit of beating around the bush.

Sapnap’s face began to blush red, embarrassment creeping up his neck and painting his cheeks. “There’s not much to explain. My hand just slipped.”

Dream half scoffed, half laughed at that, and it was silent for a moment. “I’m supposed to believe that? That- that your hand ‘just slipped’?” It was clear that the question was rhetorical.

Sapnap made no attempt to reply to this, and instead opened his door and hurried inside before the rain started pouring too much more. Dream soon followed him. If Sapnap noticed that the razors and knives had suddenly been moved somewhere he didn’t know about, he didn’t mention it. Nor did he comment on the fact that Dream would check on him every night before bed, knocking on his door and sitting in the doorway for a moment to make sure he was okay. Sometimes, though, Dream would catch Sapnap crying. Sapnap hated feeling so vulnerable in front of Dream, but it was nice to be able to just sit and cry with a friend sometimes. On those nights, Dream would lay in Sapnap’s bed until he fell asleep, and only then would he sneak off to his own room.

Sapnap did, however, notice how much Dream and George had started to include him in their gaming sessions. They made a new group chat with him and everything. He had to admit, it was nice to feel appreciated occasionally. He liked how Dream would never press him too much, allowing him to talk about what he was comfortable with and without judgement. He had missed Dream’s smiles as he listened to Sapnap talk about his day. Things returned to normal after a while, and nobody dared to make him feel less than loved again. As he thought about this, late at night one evening, he felt Dream’s embrace from behind. Dream had walked in on Sapnap crying again, and Sapnap couldn’t help but notice how Dream’s face was wet as he drifted off to sleep. He felt loved.