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"FUCK YOU" Dream yells, tears starting to run down his face as he slams his small wooden door shut with a loud bang.
The feelings in him are so strong, that he doesn't even know what to do with them. It's pent-up anger, sadness and fear from the last weeks, that now through this fight with his mom, are finding their way into his already agitated system.
The overflow of feeling is too much for him to handle, the streams of tears grow much larger as he sees the only way in freeing himself up; in doing what he always does.
Not even hearing the brunet's soft voice asking what's wrong, he lifts up his right hand, and starts smashing it against the brown door.
Hard, and fast, he punches. The pain is only growing more and more, but the feeling of freeing himself of all those emotions feels so good. He can already see the bruises form as little droplets of blood fall to the ground.
Suddenly he's gripped out of his zone of hitting the door. A small hand is wrapped around his wrist tightly, but he can't hear the screams coming from behind him, as he tries to loosen the grip on his arm to continue hitting.
"DREAM STOP, PLEASE YOU'RE BLEEDING, PLEASE STOP, YOU'RE HURTING YOURSELF, PLEASE" the brunet let out pleas with tears running down his face now as well.
Dream, being much stronger than George, manages to break out of the tight hold and continues smashing against the hard object Infront of him.
"PLEASE DREAM I BEG YOU, PLEASE STOP, CAN YOU HEAR ME? PLEASE STOP, YOU'RE SCARING ME!"
Those last few words seemed to pull Dream out of his trance. He stops hitting and turns around. He sees the brunet's tear covered face, and breaks down into his arms, he'd never want to scare George.
"G-Geo- Georg- I- I- didn't- I don't kno- I have no clue- I'm so sorry," he mutters while sobbing into the man's shoulder, obviously shocked at his own actions.
"Hey, hey, it's fine, it's ok calm down, baby, it's alright, you're okay," George answers, perplexed at the sudden break in character.
"Can we go over to the bed, baby? And you tell me what's going on maybe?" He asks as he gently presses his head against Dream’s, his mouth placed right by the man's ear.
A silent nod accompanied by many tears is felt in George’s right shoulder, and so he moves them, very slowly, over to their big fluffy bed.
He sits down, leans his back against the headboard, while lifting Clay up on his lap, shifting him so he's lying comfortably on his chest.
"So, you wanna tell me what's going on? What happened there?" He asks softly, while petting the still crying man’s face gently.
Dream starts to answer, but the heavy tears and the pain from his hand are making it too hard for him to speak.
"Hey, it's alright sweetie, take your time, it's all good, we have all the time in the world, okay?" He reassures the man, watching how little dribbles of blood are hitting the white bedspread, staining it in its dark red colour.
George didn't care about the stupid bedspread though. He cared about the boy in his arms, his emotions and the state of his bleeding hand, which was turning bluer by the second.
After a lot of soft kisses to the head, sweet sentences whispered into his ear, soft pets across his face, back and arms, Dream finally manages to bring out a couple of words explaining the situation.
"Fight- with my - mom," he sobs.
"Really bad," he continues.
"B- been doing that thing with my hand for a- ages now."
"Started when I was a teenager," he stops to let out a particularly loud sob but continues on soon after.
"Don't know how to manage my emotions," he ends after that sentence, George being the next to speak.
"I know feelings are hard, I get that, but you're safe now, okay? I got you, it's fine."
"Mmh." Dream mumbles into his boyfriend's chest, the sobbing slowing down slightly, as he relaxes his body, only to tense up again due to Dream's hand touching the bed and him squealing in pain.
"Yeah, we should take a look at that, can I go and get a cloth and some stuff for your hand really quick?" George asks, waiting for confirmation from the blond to leave him alone for a couple seconds.
"Yes, but hurry please?" He says very quietly as George slides out from under him, gives him a sweet soft kiss on the forehead and leaves to get the stuff.
He's now laying on their bed on his back, all alone on the big white space. Only now does he really realize how bad his hand actually looks. The skin on his knuckles is roughed open, dried blood sticking to the open wounds and the last knuckle on his hand is a dark blueish colour.
He waits and waits for George to come back. It feels like hours to Dream, but it was probably only a few minutes.
"Hey. Your mom was downstairs. She feels really bad. She heard you crying and hitting. I told her that I've got you and that she should go home. She said she would text you tomorrow."
Dream nods, having already forgotten what the fight with his mum was originally about. Something stupid he assumes. He just knows that once they started screaming, they couldn't stop, and once his feelings started flowing, he fled into his room, out of fear of saying something too harsh or mean, that could actually hurt her feelings.
"Okay, now show me that hand," George says, dropping a bunch of stuff on the bed, putting a big bowl of water on the nightstand, and pointing to Dream's injured hand.
He sits down in the bed across from the man in obvious discomfort, and places the bowl with the water and the cloth in between them.
"This will probably hurt, okay? So, you gotta be tough. Can you be tough for me?" He whispers looking up into the big emerald green eyes in front of him.
"I can try. Please be gentle," the man says in a pleading tone afraid of the pain to come.
"of course, baby," George says, slowly taking Dream's hurt hand, and moving it over the bowl of lukewarm water.
He takes the cloth and wrings it out over the bowl and starts softly tapping at the dried blood on the blond’s hand, forcing a pain filled expression onto the man's face.
He stays tough, though, like he promised, only shedding small tears occasionally, when it hurts particularly much.
George cleans all of the blood and bandages up his man's hand, placing a gentle kiss on it as soon as he’s done.
"There we go. We still need to see a doctor about this tomorrow though, okay?" He says placing the bowl of water back on the nightstand and moving to throw the bandage packaging away.
Dream nods and slides over in bed as George gets back from the trash can.
"Hold me?" He whispers quietly as he holds his bandaged hand up close to his body, just wanting to be held by the man he loves so much and who has taken such great care of him in his time of need.
"Of course, baby, come here," he says, climbing into the bed, gripping his arms around Dream's waist and pulling him into his embrace, being careful not to touch the hurt hand in any way.
"I love you George," Dream speaks softly, feeling small hands rub circles on his back.
"I love you too, Clay, but please don't do that ever again, okay? I don't want you hurting yourself."
Dream looks at George's face and connects their lips.
"I promise, I'll never do it again," he says, just as his eyes fall shut, simply too comfortable to not fall asleep.