Begonias

Chapter Thirty Two|Toxisity

Today is the day.

Today is the day they sporadically go to a water park, and Dream finally confesses.

Dream deflated in the mirror. Who was he kidding? He was not ready for that. He probably never would be. But...

He wanted to be. He wanted to get enough confidence to take George out one on one, to actually kiss him and tell him he loves him. To tell him he wanted to be together.

But... He couldn't do that.

He was afraid of what George would say.

He felt a scratch at the back of his throat. It made Dream choke in the middle of his thoughts, blood practically forcing itself up his throat. He dropped to his knees, coughing into the toilet for the first time today, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be his last.

His entire body was shaking with strain as he coughed as hard as he could. There was something in his throat. It was bigger than it should be, he wanted it out-

His vision was starting to go white when whatever it was finally came up his throat, and he was finally able to breathe again, albeit shallowly.

He had to take deep breaths for a while and wait for his tears to slow down enough for him to look at what it was.

It was a bundle of two flowers, connected. They were probably about an inch and a half in radius each.

This shouldn't be happening as fast as it is.

He stood up, going to the scale in his bathroom, and weighing himself.

He lost five pounds over the last week. That's the most he's lost so far, but all things considered, he's lost thirty pounds of mostly muscle since his.. condition started.

He looked at himself in the mirror. If you didn't know him, he would look healthy, even attractive. But he had a natural bulk to him, usually. He used to play football in high school, and he always kept a habit of going to the gym regularly even after he graduated.

He was always muscular, with a bit of flab that he didn't mind. If anything, it only made him more cuddly.

But now he looked like... Well, he guessed he looked like a stereotypical gamer. Doesn't do anything but sit in his room and play, doesn't like sports, skinny. He looked like... Like he didn't care about himself. Like he let himself go.

He reached a shaky hand into his hair, pulling his hair hard enough for his scalp to burn. He didn't like this. He didn't like this version of him. The him he was the first half of high school. He despised this... Version of him.

He barely even liked himself how he was three weeks ago, before this whole thing.

He slammed his fist against the counter of his sink, feeling like he could scream with how frustrated he was. He looked at himself in the mirror, face red with rage, and he felt a tear slip past his face.

When he was angry, he looked a lot like his dad.

---

Dream came downstairs wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt rather than a skintight one. He had a hoodie over it so he could take it off when he swam.

He tried hard to smile, to be happy that they were going to be spending time together doing something exciting and interesting.

But he just couldn't bring himself to be happy. He couldn't smile as widely, couldn't laugh as loud, and his anxiety took hold of him, telling him that the other three could tell, no matter how hard he tried to hide how he felt.

The day of water and fun passed by in a blur, like Dream was watching himself through a screen. Controlling, but not entirely there.

He finally started to feel better, as he focused more on George's smile, his laugh. The boy was reviving him, slowly but surely. He was starting to feel more himself again as George tried to convince him to go on a huge water slide.

Dream watched his expression as he finally said yes, watched his pupils get blown wide and the smile take over his face as he grabbed Dream's hand, leading him up the stairs and past the line. They had gotten a cut in line wrist band.

He felt the last of his life get breathed back into him as he held on tightly to George as they went through the two to three-person ride, scared out of his mind, but listening to George's excited heartbeat and hearing his laughter.

It was half an hour later, an hour before closing time, that it all went to shit.

They were at an outdoor table near one of the many food courts, and Dream was daydreaming as he stared at George, who was absolutely devouring one of those huge soft pretzels.

He saw something behind him that made his breath catch, and his eyes go wide in surprise, and fear.

There, walking towards him, was Sam, a pretty girl hanging off of his arm.

Sam was handsome as always, his short spiked hair styled just perfectly, his muscles bulging as he flexed, showing off for the pretty, skinny, perfect redhead hanging on him and looking at Sam like she wanted to take a bite out of him.

Sam was too confident to even think about wearing a shirt while swimming, and Dream just hoped, preyed that Sam didn't see him.

Sam had cheated on him with, quote-unquote, 'someone who didn't need to pop pills to feel good about themselves'.

Dream could feel his heart breaking as Sam saw him, his hazel eyes lighting up, talking to his new plaything as he came up to Dream.

"Hey Clay! It's been a while. How have you been?"

Terrible.

"I've been pretty good, actually."

TW, Mentions of Contemplating Suicide and Vomiting

And just like that, he slipped behind the screen again, watching as he had a cheery conversation with the ex that made him want to kill himself just a couple months ago.

Before Dream knew it, he had escaped into a restroom, and he was spitting up bile, and for the first time, the stupid fucking disease didn't come with it.

TW over.

Second chapter of the day.