Helium DNF tbhyourelame

Chapter 2

The green lanyard wrapped around Dream's fingers unravels quickly as he twirls his palm. Metal rattles against metal, keys cutting through the air, spinning in wide motion. Rings and the dangling blob figurine he'd been sent months prior bounce off the back of his knuckles.

"We're going to be late," he repeats. He glances at the time on his phone, again.

"He's late to everything, so it's fine," Sapnap's voice carries through the muffled wall.

Dream snaps the keys into his hand, then lets them drop again. "Are you being slow on purpose?"

"Yes," Sapnap says, as he rounds the corner.

He's wearing one of the nicer button downs they'd purchased since their 'boys trip' to the mall, which ate up most of their time on his third day in town. The maroon material and unkempt collar clash with his board-shorts. The sight alone proves Dream's suspicions that yes, of course, he'd spent far more energy picking out his own outfit than Sapnap woudl bother to in his lifetime. In the five minutes he'd spent fussing with his hair in the mirror, Sapnap was probably able to dress himself haphazardly without a second thought.

Dream glances down at his soft blue shirt and over-washed jeans with trickling doubt.

"Here's your smoothie, by the way," Sapnap interrupts his thoughts, extending a dark thermos in his hands. "You're welcome."

Dream frowns. "Oh." He must have absently left it on the kitchen counter in his rush to exit. "Thanks."

Sapnap steps past him through the open entrance, tugging down a pair of sunglasses buried in his hair at the first attack of light. Dream squints at the brightness as he locks the front door behind them.

He pauses. "Are those mine?"

Sapnap nudges the brown frames slightly down the bridge of his nose, and peers at Dream over the top of the lenses. "They look better on me."

Dream reaches out and shoves the sunglasses back up onto his face abruptly, pushing the plastic into the space between Sapnap's brows. He grins around the metal straw between his teeth when Sapnap angrily bats his hand away.

He draws a sip from the smoothie as they make their way down the driveway to his car. "I put in way too much peanut butter," he mumbles.

"I told you." Sapnap falls silent for a moment when tugging on the passenger handle, before noting, "Y'know, you're looking a little..." He hesitates. "You good?"

Dream doesn't respond, and instead slopes into the driver's seat, closing the door with a slam that shakes the frame.

"Or are you bad?" Sapnap half-concludes as he eases himself into the car. Dream sighs, and he persists, "Which is it, Dream? Good, bad...or ugly?"

"You're not going to make me rewatch that movie," Dream says. He sets his disappointment of a smoothie in the center cup-holder.

They've held a series of televised-centric nights that glue them to his living room couch, talking incessantly over important lines and hushing each other at exciting scenes. Bowls of chips and splattering salsa had brought them to the very heart of Sapnap's wish to 'fuck off like a cowboy and ride into the sunset.' Apparently, Dream doesn't respect the cinematic art that is 'The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.'

"You didn't even watch it," Sapnap defends quickly. "You spent the entire time complaining about guns."

He shoves his keys into the ignition. "Because it's over three hours, Sapnap. None of your precious 'spaghetti westerns' deserve to eat up that much of my time."