Chapter Text
It’s a classic “beginning-of-the-end” sort of situation.
Maybe that doesn’t take Sapnap’s plan for suicide seriously enough. Then Sapnap remembers that people don’t really take him seriously anyway, so maybe the phrase is perfect.
Sapnap hasn’t wanted to live in…a while. His whole life, probably, though Sapnap’s memory has always been a little shitty, so he can’t remember a lot of his childhood.
It’s not that anything bad has ever happened to him. Nothing terrible, anyway, nothing that constitutes the exhaustion that weighs on him, the itch in his fingers to tear his own skin off, the constant shake of his legs, too weak to ever hold himself up. He’s just always been like this. Tired, and self destructive, and not quite strong enough.
Sapnap has thought about leaving sooner than this. Many, many times in the past, enough that his list of excuses meld in his mind and melt away like thick cream in the sun.
Most recently, he’s been holding out for George, waiting for him to move into Dream’s house. Sapnap couldn’t leave Dream like that, not all by himself. Not in the house that Dream already says feels too big, like it’s missing something—missing George. If Sapnap left, would the house feel bigger? Emptier? What if it felt like it was missing something else?
(Or maybe Dream wouldn’t care. Maybe the only thing missing from the house would still be George, and Sapnap’s absence would slip under the rug. Under the doorframe, past the driveway, into the open air, so far away that Dream forgets Sapnap ever even lived there).
Selfishly, Sapnap wants to see George too. Even if Sapnap wasn’t the real selling point of his move to Florida, Sapnap would take what he could get. He wants to see George sit on their own couch, lie in the bed they made for him, eat in their kitchen. After that, then. After that, Sapnap will leave, and he’ll die happy because he lived long enough to accomplish his only real life goal: seeing his two best friends meet in real life.
The date has come later than Sapnap thought it would. Originally it was supposed to be before Christmas, then before Valentine's day, then…
Now it’s here. Sapnap vacuums while Dream makes the guest bed, and Dream is talking and laughing and smiling like Sapnap can even hear him over the loud roar of the vacuum. Sapnap catches words on his lips, though— George, home, finally —and it’s enough to make Sapnap smile in turn. His heart flutters and twists oddly in his chest, a mix of excitement and anxiety, but overall Sapnap feels good about this. They’re finally seeing George! What comes after doesn’t matter. What matters is the now, and how Sapnap will be able to feel his friend in his own arms, how he’ll be able to hear both of his friends laugh together in real life, the way it should be.
“—really coming,” Dream says, Sapnap catching the tail end of his sentence as he turns off the vacuum. “It’s just like— what? You know? It feels unreal. I can’t even believe it.” Dream takes a deep breath. A blinding smile takes over his face, and he stares at Sapnap with crinkled eyes. “He’s really coming. George is really coming.”
Sapnap smiles, a few giggles slipping out from his lips. “He’ll be coming? God, Dream, keep it to yourself—”
“Sapnap!” Dream yells, but laughter interlaces it and Sapnap knows he’s far too happy to be truly upset. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Sapnap just shrugs, the remnants of his own smile still tilted on his face. Both of them are breathless, Sapnap thinks, too high on excitement and anticipation to even breathe correctly. For a moment, all they can do is stare at each other, smiling like idiots. Then Dream is rushing forward and Sapnap is crushed in his arms before he can even blink.
“It’s gonna be all of us,” Dream whispers, sounding awe-struck. “All three of us, finally. George is finally coming home.”
The reminder works to wipe the smile off of Sapnap’s face.
All three of them. For a while, maybe. For long enough that they’ll be satisfied they got to experience it, but not long enough that they’ll start to regret it.
“Yeah,” Sapnap exhales. There’s a weird pulling in his heart now, a sickness that threads through the excitement. An oil spill in a perfect lake, a vat of acid within a field of flowers. “Yeah.”
The next few hours are spent in an anxious sort of limbo. Neither of the men want to start anything before they pick up George, so they both scroll through their phones on the couch until it’s time to leave for the airport. Dream has them leave an hour earlier than they really have to, but Sapnap doesn’t say anything.
Then it’s just a long drive and a long wait in the airport parking garage.
To decrease the risk of Dream being seen, they’ve decided not to go into the building. Instead, George will meet them in the (hopefully empty) parking garage. Sapnap had thought about going in to help George navigate the airport, but Dream’s fingers fidget and his leg bounces and he seems so nervous that Sapnap stays with him instead.
They sit in the car for about an hour and a half before Dream straightens. “He’s here,” he says, and he immediately begins pulling off his seatbelt. “His plane just landed, he—he’s really here, Sapnap!”
Sapnap follows Dream in tow. There’s no point, really—if George’s plane just landed, he’ll still have to get off, find out where he’s supposed to go, wait for his luggage in baggage claim. But their restless energy is a bit much for the small space of the car, so they both tumble out and wait by the trunk instead. It’s obvious that Dream wants to keep rambling, but the public nature of where they are keeps them both quiet. They turn so they face the car, hopefully hiding their faces from random passerbyers. This also means that they can’t really see behind them, so they don’t even know that anyone is there until—
“Dream?”
Dream and Sapnap whip around, and there George is: Suitcases in his hands and backpacks wrapped around his shoulders and arms and here, right in front of them.
“George!” Dream shouts, so loud it echoes through the empty garage, and suddenly he’s flinging himself into George’s arms.
They hug for a long time. Long enough that Sapnap takes out his phone, snaps a picture, and sends it in the groupchat before going right back to watching the pair of them. Sapnap tries to take in as much of the sight as he can. He wants to remember as much of this as possible, even if he doesn’t have much longer. He watches their closed eyes and tight arms, the way their hands grip the backs of each other’s shirts. He watches the way Dream has to lean down, the way George has to straighten to be taller, the way they finally break apart and suddenly George is reaching out his arms towards him.
Sapnap doesn’t waste another second. This is all he’s been waiting for, the only reason he’s even still here, and he hugs George just as tight as Dream did. They’ve met before, so maybe Sapnap shouldn’t be hugging him like it’s the first time, but he does anyway. If this is one of the last few George hugs he’s ever going to receive, he’s going to enjoy every second of it.
“What are you hugging me so long for?” George laughs, and the shake of his shoulders rustles Sapnap from where he’s attached. “We’ve literally met before!”
It’s true, and George doesn’t know any better, so Sapnap forces a smile and ignores the terrible sinking feeling in his chest as he steps back. “Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m just…I’m happy you’re here, George.” And he is. Happy that he’ll get to see George before he goes, happy that Dream won’t be left alone. George is here, and it’s everything they’ve ever waited for. Even Sapnap allows himself a moment to breathe it in. A moment in which he pretends they’re all okay, and George is here, with Dream, both of them together, like they’ve wanted for so long.
“We’re all happy you’re here,” Dream says, sounding a bit breathless himself.
“I’m not,” George says, “I want to go home. Back to the UK for me!” The smile on George’s face is enough to prove the statement a lie.
“Okay,” Dream scoffs, taking George’s suitcase from him and walking towards the car. “As if you haven’t been crying to come here for the past year.”
“No,” George says, and it’s so simple and so George that Sapnap manages a genuine smile past the weight on his chest.
They reach the car and Sapnap opens the trunk for Dream. “George can take shotgun,” Sapnap says, and Dream nods and gives a shaky smile. Like he still can’t believe it, and neither can Sapnap, really. George slips into the passenger seats with no complaints, and Sapnap stumbles into the backseat.
The drive back is better than the drive there. The nerve wracking anticipation is gone, swamped over with banter and singing and jokes between Dream and George. Sapnap sits silently in the back, but he’s fine with that. The adrenaline is starting to weigh down into exhaustion, and if Sapnap closes his eyes he can pretend that he’s already gone. That he’s a ghost in the backseat, listening to his perfect friends live on happily, the way it should be. It’s bittersweet in his heart but Sapnap lets himself indulge in the feeling.
When they get home, they all help to lug George’s luggage up the stairs and into his room. George throws himself onto the bed, groaning dramatically. “That was terrible. I’m never setting foot on a plane again.”
“Good,” Dream laughs, setting the suitcase on the ground. “You shouldn’t be leaving us that soon, anyway. If anyone wants to see you they can fly here. ”
George rolls his eyes before letting them flutter shut, but otherwise stays silent, his cheek pressed against the fabric of the covers.
“George?” Sapnap asks, leaning a bit closer. “Are you okay?”
George frowns, eyes still shut. “Yeah, I just…I’m so tired. I didn’t sleep at all on the plane, but I just got here, I don’t want to pass out right away.”
Dream gives a fond smile. “You’ll be here for…well, forever, hopefully. We’ll have time to do stuff, just sleep, George.”
It only takes a bit more arguing for George to finally agree to pass out. Dream and Sapnap both say goodnight to him, hugging him once more for a bit longer than probably necessary. Then they both leave, flicking off the light and closing the door with a soft click.
“Are you tired?” Dream asks once the door is closed, turning towards Sapnap.
“What?”
“I feel like I have all this pent-up energy now with nothing to do with it. I just—do you want to hang out? Do something together?”
Sapnap has so much to do. Now that George is here, he can’t keep wasting time. He has to get ready, he has to write notes, he has to finally pick a date and stick with it.
But Sapnap is selfish, and Dream wants company.
“Yeah. Sure, dude.”
They watch a movie, knees knocked together on the couch as they share a single bin of popcorn.
Sapnap tries not to think about how this will be the last time.
They do just about everything they can think of after George gets there.
Dream face reveals, finally, and they all do a stream together. It’s the most viewers any of them have ever had on a single stream before.
They’re free to go out in public after that. The next few days are nonstop plans. They take George to the most American restaurants near them, forcing him to order the greasiest items on the menu. They go to Disney, Universal, the closest beach to their house, then a smaller beach about three hours out, less touristy and, apparently, closer to Dream’s hometown. Anything Dream thinks of is immediately added to the list of things to do.
Sapnap wants to enjoy it. He really, really wants to be having just as much fun as Dream and George are having. The constant weight on his chest stops him from ever getting there.
Sapnap pays for everything. Dream objects this adamantly, a bit shocked and a bit offended, but Sapnap waves him off. Let me pay for you and George, he says, I have to prove to him I don’t just mooch off of you.
Sapnap has no use for the money anymore. He might as well make his friends happy while he has the chance. He buys their tickets, their meals, their trinkets from whatever mall or gift shop they decide to visit. Dream tries at least once a day to stop him, but Sapnap always manages to pay first.
Seeing his friends happy should be enough. It is enough, in a way, but Sapnap is…distracted.
He hates it. He hates that he is, that he can’t even focus on the one good thing right in front of him.
Sapnap walks down the street and wonders if he would die if he stepped out in front of a car. Sapnap stands on the top of a rocky cliff and imagines stepping right off of it. Sapnap walks along the shore line of the beach and thinks about how easy it would be to drown himself.
Dream and George laugh and laugh together, and Sapnap tries his hardest to join in. More than anything, though, he’s just tired all of the time. He lets his friends lead the conversations, only adding if he thinks it would truly be funny.
Mostly, Sapnap sits and listens to the sound of his friends having fun, trying not to think about what comes next for him.
Sapnap takes a deep breath, trying to keep his pen steady on the page.
He doesn’t even know where to start. Well, he does—he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t written these notes in his mind over and over and over again. But it’s different once he’s actually writing it, and suddenly none of the words are flowing quite how they did before.
Sapnap clicks the pen a few times. The lined paper is daunting, almost, but Sapnap needs to do this any chance he has.
He puts the pen on paper.
His first letter is addressed to Dream. It’s not even half of what he deserves, but Sapnap can’t figure out how to put his appreciation into words. How to let Dream know that he means everything to him, that Sapnap wouldn’t have gotten half as far without him. That this past year has been the best year of his life, and he couldn’t have wished for anything better before he finally left. That this wasn’t his fault. That he loved him like a brother, that Dream has never done anything wrong.
The handwriting gets sloppy as he continues to write, as his hands begin to shake. It’s a bit lame, maybe, that a lot of the letters are going to say similar things. It makes Sapnap feel ingenuine, even though he’ll mean it every time he writes it: I love you. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.
After writing out his final goodbye, he makes sure to list every account he’s ever had and its exact password. His Twitter, his bank, his Twitch. Anything that Dream might need access to once Sapnap isn’t there.
Then the first note is finished. Sapnap lets himself read over it, making sure he didn’t forget anything. It’s not enough—it’ll never be enough—but Sapnap has to keep writing.
He doesn’t bother tearing Dream’s letter out, not yet. He wouldn’t have anywhere to put it. So instead, he just flips to the next clear page and begins again.
George,
I’m really sorry I couldn’t spend more time with you. I’m glad you finally made it here, it was all
Sapnap doesn’t have a chance to finish. The door swings open suddenly, without a knock, and Sapnap practically jumps into the air. He frantically shuts the notebook, pushing it underneath his messy covers.
“What the fuck, dude?” Sapnap snaps, whipping towards the door to see the culprit:
It’s George, looking casual as he leans in from the doorway. “What are you writing?” He asks, stepping towards the bed and peering towards the blankets.
Sapnap feels his face heat up in flaming shame. He feels caught red-handed, unsafe from George’s prying eyes as he peers around him. “Nothing, dude, screw off.”
George raises an eyebrow. “Is it embarrassing? Like a diary or something?”
Sapnap scoffs. “No, dude, it’s just—it’s video ideas.”
“Oh. Well I can help you, we can—”
“No!” Sapnap says, and it comes out like a shout. George blinks at him and Sapnap has to hide a wince. “No, man, I’m good. I was basically done anyway. I was just…I was going to go to bed anyway.”
George stares at him. Really stares at him, his eyebrows low and eyes searching his face, like he knows Sapnap is lying, like he knows the truth about everything Sapnap had just written. It’s a tense moment of silence. Sapnap’s heart twists darkly in his chest, threatening to break out from his ribcage.
“Have you…are you alright?”
Oh god. Fuck, fuck, fuck—
“Yeah,” Sapnap says, a bit breathless. “Yeah, dude, of course. I’m fine. Why?”
George doesn’t look satisfied with the answer. His eyebrows pinch further, and it’s all Sapnap can do to not openly twist his face up in his anxiety.
“I don’t know. You just…you’ve been acting weird ever since I got here.”
Sapnap shakes his head. “No, dude. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just—it’s been a big change, you know? A good one! A good change! I’ve just…I’ve just been tired helping you move in and everything. And…you know.”
Oh god, George isn’t going to believe him. He’s just staring at him, light concern lacing through his eyes and he doesn’t believe him, he knows, he knows—
“Okay,” George says, and Sapnap almost breaks down right there. He wasn’t found out. No one knows, and he can still go through with it.
But then George walks into the room further, throwing himself onto the bed so he’s lying on his stomach. He lifts himself up by his elbows and pulls out his phone. He’s close enough that Sapnap can see the screen.
“Um—George?”
“What?”
“I’m going to sleep. So you can leave, or whatever. I’m not going to be very entertaining.”
Instead of leaving, George just shrugs. “You can sleep. I’m bored, and Dream’s busy. I’ll just play games or something on my phone, I’ll be quiet.”
That…wasn’t the issue. The issue takes form of a tiny notebook, hidden underneath the blankets but practically shining like a fucking beacon.
But George goes back to scrolling on his phone, and it’s not like Sapnap can kick him out without seeming extremely suspicious.
“Okay,” Sapnap says, a bit hesitant. He positions himself carefully, lying so his chest and stomach is on top of the notebook. The metal spirals dig into his skin, but Sapnap can’t risk shifting it even a little bit. If it’s out in the open, George might read it while he’s asleep. At least like this, Sapnap would wake up at any attempt to grab it.
For a while, Sapnap doesn’t sleep. His anxiety refuses to let him relax, refuses to let him think about anything but the fact that he only finished one letter, and he has so many more to write, and George is right there, George could find out at any second .
But Sapnap has been tired, and even anxiety can’t stop the exhaustion from eventually pulling him away.
“We should do fireworks,” Sapnap says, the morning he’s finally going to do it. It’s been a few nights since he wrote the first letter—for two days after that, he was too scared to even pull out the notebook, scared that someone would come in again and he wouldn’t put it away in time. The pulling at his heart eventually outweighed the anxiety. Over the span of two more nights, Sapnap allots time to finish each note. There’s nothing left for him to do, nothing but spend a final night with his friends. Talk with them, let them know how much they mean to him, hold them and hug them one final time.
So. A night of fireworks.
Sapnap lets his smile take over his face, lets the false excitement take over the burning weight of killing himself. “That’s pretty American, right? I bet George has never seen them before.”
George scoffs. “I’ve seen fireworks, idiot.”
“Yeah, but not American ones,” Sapnap shoots back. “Come on, please? We can buy our own and do them in the backyard! Like the movies! Dream, back me up here.”
Dream, busy at the kitchen counter making breakfast, hardly glances at him. “Sure. We can do fireworks.”
“Yeah! Go fuck yourself, George,” Sapnap taunts, leaning towards the couch to push George’s shoulder.
“I never said I didn’t want to! I just said I’ve seen them before. Stop twisting my words up.”
Sapnap shoves George again, and then George shoves back, and suddenly they’re full-fledged wrestling on the floor. Sapnap laughs—a genuine, real laugh. It bubbles out of his chest and pushes outward as he yells, fighting off George as he pushes at him.
Suddenly, Sapnap finds himself drowning in appreciation for his friends. They put up with him, play with him, let him into their lives even if they didn’t have to. It’s almost overwhelming, almost too much as Sapnap glances at Dream by the counter, feels George’s body here, underneath his skin. The feeling twists up Sapnap’s chest and instead of pushing George, he reaches out and pulls him into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
“Let go!” George yells, squirming in his arms. “Let go, you big idiot!”
“I love you,” Sapnap says, squeezing George tighter in his arms.
Dream, apparently finished cooking breakfast, is now standing next to the pair of them on the floor. “We love you too, Sap.”
George scoffs. “Ugh. He’s just saying that to look like the good guy! He pushed me first, Dream, don’t believe him!”
Sapnap pushes him out of his arms, then laughs again as he chases George around the kitchen. They scream and run until Dream yells at them to sit down, and as they return to the kitchen table Sapnap slams into Dream, pulling him into a hug too.
“Alright, alright,” Dream mutters, apparently still dismayed about the prior tussle. Dream pats his hand against Sapnap’s back. “ Eat. Don’t make me cook for nothing.” He sounds a bit exasperated, but when Sapnap pulls back, Dream is smiling at him and George fondly, happily.
Good. It’s good that Dream is happy. Sapnap hopes he keeps being happy forever, long after Sapnap is gone. Dream’s always been optimistic, stubborn, and it soothes a part of Sapnap’s heart to know that his death will only be a blip in Dream’s life.
(It makes the other part of him mourn. Why will no one be sad for him? Why isn’t he enough? Who will even care once he goes?) (Sapnap shoves that part deep, deep down. He hasn’t cried yet, today, and he plans on keeping that up as long as possible).
They all eat breakfast. Then they go out and buy fireworks.
In the few hours before dusk, they eat together. Dream has to edit and George wants to solo stream, so Sapnap sits by himself in the living room and tries not to be openly restless.
Finally, the sun sets and the sky turns completely dark, and Dream and George both descend from the top of the stairs.
“Fireworks?” Dream asks, and Sapnap nods enthusiastically.
The air is bitter, once Sapnap steps outside. Or maybe it’s just him—both Dream and George aren’t wearing jackets, and they aren’t shivering half as hard as Sapnap is.
Sapnap tries to take in every possible detail. This is his last moment with his friends, one of his last moments on earth, and he doesn’t want to take it for granted.
He focuses on the way the air bites at his lips, stings against his cheeks. The way the stars create a dotted mosaic, a beautiful canvas behind the silhouettes of Dream and George.
“Alright, George, Sapnap, sit over there,” Dream instructs, pointing towards a patch of grass. The lights from the house are on, still, leaking through the windows, but Dream has his phone flashlight out anyway. “I’ll light them. I guess we’ll just go one at a time?”
“Lame,” George says, and he rips up a handful of grass and throws it at Dream. “Why not all at once?”
“Yeah, let’s just burn my house down. Fantastic idea, George.”
Sapnap doesn’t need to see George’s face to know that he rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
Despite George’s complaints, Dream does not light them all at once. He goes through a process of lighting one before running back to where George and Sapnap are, standing next to them and watching as the firework explodes.
The booms are loud enough to, for once, block Sapnap’s thoughts. For just a second, he doesn’t think about the notes, or the guilt, or the exhaustion. He thinks about how beautiful the fireworks are. He thinks about his friends next to him, illuminated in occasional flashes of light. He feels happy, content.
Then Dream pops his phone flashlight back on and starts walking casually forward, rather than his usual jog.
“Dream?”
“Those were the last ones,” Dream explains, not even turning around. “Come out and help me clean up, I want to make sure we don’t leave anything out.”
It’s…it’s over. It’s over.
“Clean up?” George complains, groaning as he lifts himself onto his feet. “They’re fireworks, what is there to clean up?”
It’s hard to listen after that. The fireworks are over, and Dream and George are walking further away from him, and this is it. It’s over. It’s over, and Sapnap only has a few more minutes left with his best friends in the whole world. The reality of it comes crashing down on him, a tidal wave that sweeps away any of his previous calm. He has to do something, say something, hold them for the final time.
“Hey guys?” Sapnap starts. The other two men turn to look at him, though Dream has the decency to keep his flashlight pointed towards the grass. “I just, uh…I just wanted to say that I love you guys. A lot. And I—I’m really thankful that you guys are my friends. It really meant—it just means a lot to me. So.” God, Sapnap feels like he’s shaking out of his own skin. His hands tremble from where he’s hidden them in his hoodie pocket, his chest trembles with each inhale and exhale of the bitter night air.
It’s lame. A lame attempt at a final thank you, not even half of what they deserve to hear, what Sapnap wants to say. But Sapnap’s not sure he could continue on without his voice breaking, so he ends his pathetic little thank you with a thin-lipped smile.
George’s silhouette shifts. “Why are you being so sappy?” He asks, and Sapnap can hear the smile in his tone. “Sappy Sapnap. It’s just too wholesome!” George jokes, his voice high-pitched and rounded. “He doesn’t even know we’re not streaming!”
Sapnap’s heart pitches slightly in his chest. George isn’t taking this seriously. He doesn’t even know.
“I love you too, Sap,” Dream says. He steps closer to Sapnap, resting a hand on his shoulder. The hand squeezes, then Dream shifts slightly so he’s looking at both of his friends. “Both of you.”
George’s silhouette hums in distaste, then brushes past the pair of them. “Whatever. If you two are done being weird out here, I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”
The panic rises in Sapnap as George opens the door, as Dream trails after him to get inside.
They’re leaving. They’re leaving, and Sapnap is, too, just not in the same way, and neither of them even turn to look at him as they walk through the door—
Sapnap’s last chance at holding them slips through his fingertips. He can’t do it inside, not in the sick yellow light, not where they could see him falter and fall, not where they could ask questions.
“You coming, Sap?” Dream asks, turning around one foot into the door.
He’s basically inside already. It’s too late.
“I—I’m gonna be out here. Just for a little bit longer. Fresh air and stuff,” Sapnap says, and he gestures with his hand. If Dream sees the shake of it, he doesn’t comment on it.
“Do you want us to sit out with you?” Dream asks, genuine, because he’s so, so kind, and such a good person. “We can come back out.”
Sapnap shakes his head. “Naw. I’m good. You can go to bed, I’ll be inside in a bit.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Alright. Don’t spend too long out here, okay?”
“Okay,” Sapnap says, and then that’s it.
They shut the backdoor. That’s the last time Sapnap will speak to them.
It was supposed to be the last time Sapnap held them, too, but he failed. The short, joking hugs from this morning were the last hugs he’ll ever receive, and neither of them even really returned it.
For the first time today, in weeks, Sapnap breaks apart.
The grass catches his knees. The dirt cradles his calves, holds him in an embrace, the soil’s first embrace before the final embrace.
Sapnap’s hands grip at his own sleeves. He cries. He thinks of uneven hugs and cries. He thinks of laughs and cries. He thinks of old Skype calls and cries. He thinks of his two best friends, warm in the house and soon-to-be better off without him and cries.
He thinks of his own death and cries.
He cries until there’s not a single drop left within his eyes. His lungs burn and his jaw aches, but all he can do is lean backwards until his back hits the dirt and his eyes hit the stars.
For a moment, he watches. The stars are shining, twinkling in the deep midnight sky, and Sapnap wonders where he’ll sit amongst them.
The air is bitter against his throat, his tongue. He breathes it in deeply, once, twice. His lashes flutter. The wet of his eyes reflects the stippled sky.
Sapnap rises. He brushes the dirt off of his knees, the back of his jacket. He takes a final bitter breath. He steps inside.
A quick glance at his phone lets Sapnap know he was out there for an additional two hours. It’s about 2 in the morning now.
Sapnap slips out of his shoes, picks them up and places them nicely by the door. The jacket is slipped off and hung in the closet.
On soft socked feet, Sapnap walks to George’s bedroom. The door is opened silently, and when Sapnap peaks in, George is tangled in his blankets. An old fan whirs in the corner of the room. The sound is repetitive, rickety, and George’s lashes flutter when the wind lands on his face.
Sapnap gently closes the door. He blinks away the images of his best friend and makes his way to Dream’s room.
Dream, too, is asleep. Lying nicely underneath his covers, back to the door so Sapnap can only see the back of his head.
Sapnap pauses, holding his breath as he observes Dream’s figure. But Dream doesn’t move, and the blankets covering him rise and fall in time to Dream’s breathing.
Sapnap closes the door with a soft click.
Sapnap already knows where the pills are. They’re some old pain relief pills from when Dream broke a bone, super powerful yet hardly used. They sit in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet behind the Tylenol and Advil and Nyquil. Old and unused, forgotten by who they were meant for, found by the one who would finally use them.
The letters are ripped out of the notebook, folded neatly and placed on the bed.
The bed was made nicely this morning, so Sapnap sits on the floor instead, his back against the bed frame.
With shaking hands, he pulls his phone out of his pocket once more. He opens his messages, though the tremble of his fingers makes him have to click twice to actually hit Dream’s contact.
Dream, he types, and his eyes are starting to burn again.
i love you so much. you and george both, please remember that. Call the police when you wake up and send them into my room, please dont come in yourself. love you, brother, don’t let me see you any time soon.
It’s good enough for a text message. Anything else Sapnap wants to say is already written down, ready to be read once the ambulance comes and the room has been cleared out.
So he hits send. And then he opens the pill bottle. And then he swallows every single one.
Everything hurts. Everything hurts, but Sapnap can’t keep himself grounded enough to think about it. His eyes blur when he tries to open them, so bad he can’t even see anything. There’s a muffled sound coming from somewhere in the room, but Sapnap can’t tell from where, or what it even is. It feels like someone has shoved Sapnap’s head full of pillows.
His stomach hurts, and Sapnap feels hazy, floaty. There’s more sounds around him, but it’s like he’s underwater, so deep down he can’t even move through it.
Distantly, Sapnap realizes that his throat is burning. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t really know anything, right now.
All he knows is that he’s tired, and floating, or maybe sinking, and maybe it would be okay to let go.
So he lets his eyelids finally flutter shut, the blurry world around him finally gone. He floats, or he sinks, or he slips, until the muffled feeling in his head takes over. Sapnap thinks of uneven hugs, and warm bodies, and stippled skies, and then he doesn’t think at all.