Sweet tune ( karlnap )

Sick

Pic by @victoriandarkacademia on pinterest
Tw: Homophobic slur, mentions of vomiting, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood, cursing(?)
Enjoy:)

George leaped over my brother's still body, his fast fingers grazing his fair neck and the other hand's palm kept on his torso.
His eyes were wide yet lost in the air as he tried to focus on the younger's chest raising softly and the warm blood rushing through his veins.
"He's breathing but his heart rate is really fast." He uttered a few seconds later, signing Dream to help him and then lifting him up.
My chapped lips stayed locked as i just barely had the strength to watch his pale arms sway back and forth, dangling from my best friends' hold.

They left the house without closing the door.
I stared it down disappointed, wishing i could have locked it with my mind, too tired to take a few steps until i could reach the golden handle;
I was about to leave it wide open like that, in a grim invitation to look inside and witness how pathetic i appeared as i wasn't even able to close a fucking door, but the fresh breeze caressing my warm shoulders was enough to send shivers down my spine and convince me to close it.

So i lazily dragged my feet to the entrance, checking outside to see if they had already left.
I couldn't see George's car so i simply shut the door and went into the living room.
It must've been that stupid migraine that had been chasing me for almost a week now, but I couldn't feel guilt, i couldn't feel fear, anger, sadness, only sheer confusion.
My steps felt melting into the ground as i moved forward, and every picture hung around the room was slowly dripping on the walls, painting them with various shades of gray.
I approached the sad, half-opened bag that had the white powder spilt around it.
I got down and picked it up.

My cold knees were pressed against the tiled floor as i carefully studied the sack in my hand.
The door opened in a swift squeak, and before i could react Clay's figure came up to me.
"Care to explain what the fuck is going on?"
His words got increasingly harsher through gritted teeth as his tremoring hands were locked in tight fists.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

His face was red, and small droplets of sweat were racing across his cheeks and breaking on his nervous lip as it quivered in fury.

"I don't remember." I finally muttered.
"You don't-" He interrupted himself in a scoff, his nails forming a white aura on the skin under them as they pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I must've been drunk and someone might have slipped it in my pocket. I... I dont know."
He looked through me with phantom pupils.
"So you went outside?"
I froze. My eyes desperately scanned the area around him in the hope of finding an escape, an open door that would have led me to somewhere quiet.
"I don't know." i helplessly cried.
"You're lying to me." he accused. It was a statement, but in his gaze i could spot a desire of it being a question.
"Where did you get that shit?" He then asked again sternly, coldly. There was something inhumane, something wrong with his voice. I almost couldn't recognize him.
Each second cut my skin more and made me want to throw up. I took a few weak gasps of air.
I stared at my red fingers, unable to look up.
The clock in the living room seemed to tick louder than anything, giving a rushed rhythm to my heartbeats.

"I didn't mean to hurt him." i mumbled with a strained voice.

He scoffed ironically, his whole features changing into someone i couldn't recognize. I was only able to bark in defense, but he didn't hesitate to bite me in attack.

"Of course you did. You meant it all." He paused, and everything around me spun as i helplessly held onto the ground.

"You're ruining your life and you're gonna drag them down too." he then said.
I immediately got up, stumbling on my feet but determined to push him a few times. "You don't know shit!" I cried as angry tears slipped down my warm cheeks. He roughly shoved me back, making me lose my balance and almost fall a few times.