He's Not Okay - DNF

One: Everything is Fine

Dream would say his high school experience was normal - nothing too boring, nothing too extreme.

Everything was just... Fine.

Yeah, fine was the perfect word for it - his high school experience wasn't amazing, but it wasn't terrible, either. It was a perfect mixture of the two: just fine.

Right now, it was another study night, and he would describe this one as a little less than fine.

Here he was, sat at the desk in the corner of his room, head down and revising the notes he had taken in his science class today, cursing to himself for not going out tonight.

His parents weren't home, so he could easily sneak out, but he refrained from doing so. The main reason was to do with the fact that his best friend, George, refused to tell Dream which party he had planned to go to.

"Dream, let me go out by myself this one time! Please?"

He recalled the brunette saying to him.

"But what if something happens to you? You're not exactly in the right shape to fight someone off-"

He had replied (in the nicest way possible).

"Oh fuck off, I'll be fine!"

Dream chuckled at that, reminding himself how feisty and outgoing the boy was.

It was expected due to his preppy status at school - it was something that many people had wondered about. How did Dream and George become best friends? All everyone else saw was the pretty, popular brunette, talking to a moody, nerdy blonde (who, in comparison to George, looks much less delicate and more like a brute). It was the classic case of 'opposites attract' that confused a lot of dense, judgemental people, but the pair never seemed to mind.

They were happy in their own little bubble, including Sapnap (who would hang out with them from time to time when he wasn't busy being a burnout).

That's why Dream felt so odd staying at home instead of going out with his friend, and it was also the reason why he still hadn't taken in any information from the work set out in front of him.

"Well this sucks." He mumbles to himself, brushing a hand through his hair as he closes his notebooks with his free one. "Maybe I just need sleep-"

A rustle in the bushes outside his house make him pause, sharp eyes glancing out of his bedroom window before checking his watch.

3:17am.

It's probably a raccoon.

He stood from his desk, walking to his window and pulling back the curtain, looking directly down to watch the shrubbery lining the porch of his house. Back and forth his eyes went, and no sign of anything significant.

Yeah, just a raccoon.

The sound of the back door swinging open echoed through the house, the harsh rattle of it sending chills down Dreams spine.

He would've reassured himself that it was just his parents in any other situation, but he knew that they would never be this loud at this time of night.

"Fuck. No way am I checking that." He told himself, picking up the landline phone from it's stand, about to dial 911 when he noticed the irregular beep on the other line.

Followed by the lights shutting out.

"Fuck's sake - just my luck." He cursed to himself yet again, not worried about his growing habit of using swear words, more concerned at the fact that his parents still hadn't bought him a mobile phone (which would've been more than ideal in this situation).

And so, he found himself walking down the creaky stairs of his house as quietly as the floorboards would allow him, guard up as adrenaline began to course through his veins.

Somebody he didn't know was in his house, and he had to either stop whatever they plan to do, or escape.

He would prefer to do the later at this point.

Another sound travelled towards his ears, this time coming from the kitchen. The shrill sound of pots and pans crashing to the floor, followed by stumbling footsteps to open what Dream assumed was the refrigerator. His brows furrowed, eyes piercing the shadows surrounding him as he made a turn to the kitchen, curious to see who it was.

Maybe it's just George being drunk out of his mind - he does have a key to this house.

His nerves calmed at that thought, a slight smirk on his face as he breached the kitchen, only for his expression to drop instantly.

His heart sank to his stomach as his stomach rose to his throat, suffocating him as he analysed what was in front of him at this very moment.

Mud. A fuck ton of mud.

"What the hell..?" he murmured to himself, stepping around the smudged, fresh stains of soil on the tile flooring, now looking frantically for the intruder.

"George? Sapnap?" No answer.

"I swear to god, whoever you are, show yourself-"

He had to supress a scream as a figure appeared right in front of him as he turned around, having to stop himself from throwing a punch as he managed to recognise his best friend in the dark lighting.

His best friend, George.

"Jesus, man! You scared the shit out of me!" He began to whisper-yell at him, eyes finally adjusting to the dark. He looked the brunette up and down, taking in his clothes that were covered in mud.

"Oh, so you were the one climbing in that bush earlier, huh?" He tried to crack a joke, chuckling to himself (a laugh that soon faded when he noticed his friend did not look amused).

In fact, he noticed that mud was coming from his mouth, too.

"Hey, what's wrong..?" he whispered, leaning down more and taking a large inhale for courage... only to notice the pungent smell coming from his friend. "Did you manage to roll in dog shit, too?"

George made an expression now, flashing one of his signature smiles: one which would usually make Dream feel warm and fuzzy, but now gave him chills.

His green eyes adjusted more, staring longer at the muck staining George's face and clothes, noticing the slight red tint to what he previously observed to be mud.

It wasn't mud.

It was blood.

Fucking blood.

The stains on the floor is blood.

"Shit! George, are you okay?!" He asked, desperately trying to motion for him to sit down, which George didn't seem to be interested in at all. "Is that your blood? God! What happened to you? Do you need me to get someone?" Dream couldn't stop himself from asking questions, running to the sink and wetting a cloth with cold water, determined to fix his friend back up.

George stayed oddly silent throughout the entire time that Dream was freaking out - not the type of silence you would get if someone was in too much pain. It was more comparable to the silence you would get if someone was to stare at you, unblinking.

It unsettled Dream enough to turn back around and face his shorter friend.

What he didn't expect... was for George to not be there at all.

Disappeared.

He had left as quickly as he had arrived, leaving a traumatised Dream to clean the floors from his best friends blood, and process what had just happened.