Feeling For You (DNF)

Chapter 16: There's a Reason They Call it the Tower of Terror...

"So, Dream, are you sure you're feeling okay?"

He blinks, jerking his head up and realizing with a start that he was about to walk into a metal street lamp decorating the sidewalk. "Uh, what? Oh. Yah, um, I'm great!" Dream says, mustering an obviously false cheeriness. 

Well, no one can deny that he's stubborn, I think to myself, rolling my eyes when he steps away from the street lamp and directly into a palm tree. I snort, but make sure he's regained his balance before walking forward. Stubborn and an idiot, that is. 

"Right... great." 

I gave him one last chance to tell me, and it didn't work. Time for my backup plan. "So, if you're feeling alright, you won't have anything against ridding the Tower of Terror?" I ask innocently, like I hadn't just proposed that we ride a drop tower shaped like an elevator box that plunges nearly two hundred feet with the doors open at speeds up to 63 kilometers (39 miles) per hour.

Dream swallows, and looks away. "No, I think that sounds... great." 

It clearly doesn't sound great, but he still isn't communicating with me. Dream is too altruistic for his own good, and even though something is clearly hurting him, he won't voice it, even when faced with a drop coaster that I'm sure he loathes the idea of. 

I squint at him. Shit, I was sure that would work. I don't actually want to ride that death trap. Maybe if we actually get in the cue, he'll change his mind and tell me what's wrong so he doesn't have to ride? 

"Great," I nod. "Let's get in line, then."

***

This was a bad idea.

Today has been a good day. We've only been recognized three or four times, and the fans were all friendly and courteous. That alone is a miracle, since we didn't bother to wear disguises. The weather, while a touch too warm for my liking, isn't nearly as hot as it could be. There's no sign of rain, and the humidity is low. 

At least, it was a good day until I decided to ride the Tower of Terror.

The restraints are in rows, and I'm seated next to Dream. I was so sure that he would back out of this, but here we are, about to start the ride. The ride attendants dressed as bellhops are making their way down the seats, making sure all the belts and safety bars are in place. 

Stupid Dream, I think, not actually angry but not willing to admit that maybe, just maybe, this is my fault. If he had just admitted something is wrong, we wouldn't be here.

The ride attendant checks my seatbelt one final time, before stepping clear of the simulated elevator. I look over at Dream, noting his slightly pale face and the worried twist to his expression. Neither of us want to ride this stupid thing, and if he could just tell me the truth, we could avoid this. 

"Dream, are you sure you feel okay? If you want to go home, you can tell me," I say, sure that he'll concede and tell me what's been bothering him. 

His yellow (green) eyes meet mine, and he forces a tired smile onto his face. "No, I'm fine! Let's do this!" 

Idiot.

I groan internally, and roll my eyes. How is it possible that he's this dense? I've done everything I could think of to get him to tell me, and none of it worked. I guess I'm riding this thing.

Then, with the thrill of eerie music dancing in our ears, the lights flicker off, and the ride begins. I'm a little uneasy as the attraction moves through the "hotel", displaying ghosts and time travel, but I'm not truly scared. While I don't love rides, especially ones that have a large drop, I'm not as anxious as some people get. A young boy in the seat in front of me, for example, looks positively terrified, clutching onto his mother's arm as though he could fall into the darkness around us if he let go.