Kréme / Driller Oneshots

Hospital (Guardian Angel)

❌Trigger warnings of: Suicide attempts, self harm, Depression❌

Killer hated hospitals. They were cold and deathly with the permanent lingering smell of hand sanitiser and sterile cleaners. His bed was slightly lumpy and the sheets were thin, trapped beneath his broken body and wrinkled from his squirming.

Casting his gaze to the side he looked at the heavy cast that bound his arm, trapping and containing it so the bones could have time to knit back together. He wouldn't be here long, the recent development of magic and technology meant he'd only have the cast for around three days before he could break it all over again - it must have broken at least nine times now, it was a wonder his arm could hold together. His left arm had snapped only three times which he was rather pleased about; that arm was more useful after all.

From that arm a long IV drip ran from a stand by the side of his bed, steadily pumping in all those liquid pain killers, nutrients and medicine he'd need to stop him from dying, to prevent him from seeing his lover.

Grumbling under his breath he glared at the steady beat of his heart monitor, watching how his soul would occasionally spike and slow with his shallow breathing. Oh how he wished it would cut short, run flat and stay flat before the doctors could do anything, before Dream could call for help.

Dream..

Just thinking of the angel made him miss him more than he already did. In short, Dream was perfect. He was everything Killer had ever dreamt of without believing he could grasp, a heaven sent gift to bless him back when he'd been alive. Even in the short year they'd had together they'd done so much - even go so far as getting engaged. Looking at the ring was painful for him now, an act that gripped his soul by the centre and twisted. They could have been married by now..

Fighting back tears Killer stared up at the ceiling, feeling his arm and side itch and burn with pain as the bones knitted themselves back together. He'd broken his arm in two places and cracked four ribs as well as chipping his pelvis. His legs were badly bruised and earned a few hairline fractures from his attempt, but he was still alive. Still on this wretched Earth he despised so much. He didn't understand why Dream wouldn't simply let him leave.

Again the memory of the angel sent a dagger through his soul and he took a shaky breath, feeling so frustrated he could scream. Seeing Dream only once a week for fifteen minutes wasn't enough for him - it simply wasn't. Every time he felt like things could be normal and they could stay together the paramedics would find some miracle cure to save him, a way to keep his stubborn soul beating for another day. He hated it. He just wanted to die.

Pupils tired, they dragged across his hospital surroundings, lingering on the many wires spilling from the machine they'd hooked up to him. To keep him stable. That's what they'd said.

Reaching over he grabbed a fistful of the different wires, picking at random with no thought. He couldn't care less what they'd do to him, as long as it put him in enough danger to call on Dream. It was the Doctors' lunch break, surely they wouldn't be around for a while longer - maybe he'd have a little more time.

Shifting eagerly his fingers gripped tightly, squeezing around the wires before administering one sharp tug.

The effect wasn't immediate. His flow of magic supply was cut off as well as the additional oxygen they fed him, the IV drip clattering across the floor with its needle snapping off. He'd made more noise than he wanted too, cursing as he tore more lines from his arms in a desperate attempt to feel any different. Once the morphine drip was out he felt a change. His side flared up in pain and he gave a choked yell, fist stuffing into his mouth to deafen the noise and delay alerts. He knew the hospital probably had monsters watching his every move - he was a special case, they'd said - doctors would be here soon to save him.