Not Even Real | Dream SMP School AU

61 - Night Whispers

The sky was black as ink when Ranboo finally got home. There were dark bags under their eyes, signifying the lack of sleep from their captivity. As the ambled up to their door, a small voice in the back of their head began to whisper it's cryptic words.

"Not now, Dream. Can't you tell I'm tired? I don't want to deal with this..."

"Ranboo, that wasn't me."

A cold shock went through their body at these words. If it wasn't him, it was surely...

They shook their head and pushed open the door. If it really were that thing that controlled them, it would have to speak with them itself.

The darkness of the empty house was something Ranboo had grown to familiarize with. Each school day was ended with their return to the hollow building they considered a home.

Maybe that's a stretch, I don't think this is exactly a home. Not yet.

No one seemed to question the lack of other residents within the building- not that they knew of, anyways.

"Alright," they began, "I should probably just go straight to bed. Although... There IS something else I've been wanting to do..."

The thought bad crossed their mind once or twice before, yet the need for it rose every day. A plan. One that could help with the issues the voices were bringing about.

An image unfolded in their mind. A planning page for the help they needed.

All that was left to do was make in it reality.

-George-

The fluttering feeling wasn't going away. It was getting worse.

Every day that passed made George wish he were braver. He had written countless confession notes and made up tons of ways to ask, yet all of them were shut down by Nick telling him what a terrible idea it was.

"But why? This is the best one I've thought of!" He would exclaim.

"It's far too extravagant for Clay of all people! Can't you think of something that WON'T embarrass you both?" Nick would retort.

Nothing seemed to click well enough to be a viable option. George had to think of something else. As he laid on his bed, he texted Nick to ask for any other ways of asking Clay out.

"You could try not being weird about it." George read.

Not very helpful, Nick.

A groan escaped him as he slammed his face into his pillow. He was trapped in a corner, not knowing what to do and not having the strength - neither mental nor physical - to do anything. He'd just have to live the rest of his life in misery.

The electronic *bing!* Of George's phone broke him from his spiral. He picked up the phone, unlocked it, and read the newest message.

"There is one way you haven't thought of yet..."

-Clay-

51 ceiling tiles. Why wasn't it even.

39 pieces of paper. So close to 40.

3 possible puppets. Not enough control.

How could this possibly get any worse?

Clay's eyes found themselves resting on a picture placed on his desk. His sister had found it recently. Her words continued to replay in his mind.

"Who's this?"

"He looks like you."

"Why do you seem so sad?"