Uninvited

Chapter Twenty Seven|Feral

Today marks his second week living in this new place.

"CLAY!!" Darryl yelled as the Dream demon swung his diamond sword, 'BadBoyHalo was slain by Clay' popping up on the screen.

"YESSS!!" Dream yelled, throwing the console controller onto the couch and throwing his hands up in a victory pose while Darryl sulked.

Darryl grabbed his phone, recording the boy's happiness at winning. His voice sounded so much like Dream's that it was uncanny.

As the boy reveled in his easy victory, Darryl counted up everything weird about the man.

He only wore one outfit ever, he never seemed to break a sweat, his teeth seemed unnaturally sharp, Darryl had never seen him eat anything, and he always seemed against Darryl going to his apartment for any reason.

He was.. Odd. A special breed of strange that Darryl somehow found intoxicating. Zak, his boyfriend, also seemed to find him unnervingly interesting. Zak lived a couple of floors away, so he could visit any time he wanted.

He and Clay had this huge competitive flare to them, like they sparked a flame in one another. Normally, this would put a frown of doubt on Darryl's face, but sometimes when Zak's and Dream's fire started to burn too bright, Zak would hug Darryl until he felt cooled off enough to continue his arguments with Clay.

It was adorable to watch the shorter man make quips back and forth with the taller, more intimidating male. He wondered if that's how he looked day to day when he was with Zak.

When Clay 'found out' that Zak and Darryl were also Skeppy and BadBoyHalo, it wasn't that hard to feign surprise. Now, he constantly asks them to buy him stupid stuff. They have a good laugh every time they say no.

Another odd thing is that Clay had no social media. Or, at least, none that he talked about. Sometimes Darryl would catch Clay scrolling through Twitter, but before he could ask anything, Clay would just pocket his phone like nothing happened.

So when Darryl posted the tweet about how Clay was such a sound-alike of Dream, he didn't expect Clay to look so filled with rage that he would pop as he left their apartment, slamming the door behind him.

---

It's been five days since Dream has spoken to Darryl or Zak. About twice a day, one of them will go to his door and knock, asking if he was home or if he was okay; They would ask what they did wrong. But Dream knew what they were thinking. He'd been active enough on Twitter to know, and they knew it was him.

They knew he was Dream now, and they knew he had disappeared from George's house without a trace.

He also learned through them that George was coming.

George was coming.

Why did that sentence spark hope and fear in him?

Right when he'd gotten good at forcing himself to be happy without the boy, he just comes right back into his life, even through impossible circumstances.

Dream was starving. He needed to go; he needed to feed. His nails were sharp enough to cut through his bedsheets like butter.

He'd been trying to sleep.

These past five days have just been spent laying motionlessly in bed, staring at the window. He would just lay there in the warm sheets, not breathing, not thinking.

He just wasn't there anymore. He wasn't on Earth, and he wasn't anywhere else. He was just... Gone.

The panic that sparked in him when he felt the first itch was uncanny.