Chapter Nine|No Where Near Bad

                                    

                                          
It was two in the afternoon when Dream was dragged from sleep by the metaphorical throat. 
                          
There was laughter and jovial conversation happening down the stairs, and Dream knew immediately what was up. 
                          
Bad was here. 
                          
Dream smiled widely, pulling himself into a sitting position. Bad had always had a special place in his heart, not that Dream would ever admit it. 
                          
The guy used to be vulgar and offensive, but he completely turned himself around for his viewers and others. Dream respected him because of the sheer amount of love he had in his heart for people.
                          
Dream's smile was erased as he winced, his head throbbing. Now that he had gotten over the initial excitement, he realized how shitty he felt. 
                          
His thick blonde hair was greasy and gross, along with his face. He smelled like shit because he didn't take a shower before sleeping last night, even after sweating his ass off moving stuff in. Dream couldn't meet Bad looking like this.
                          
He got out of bed, his head throbbing a constant pulse as he went over to one of the boxes he hadn't unpacked yet; The Bathroom box was relatively small, and he could probably get it unpacked in a good five minutes.
                          
But first, he thought as he dug through it, searching for his remedy. He finally closed his fingers around a pill bottle, and he started looking for the other one.
                          
When he finally pulled them out, he went to the bathroom and used his hands to get some water from the sink to take them. 
                          
Painkillers, because this headache was beating his skull in and he could not let that ruin his mood. 
                          
Antidepressants, because even though he wasn't going to see a phycologist any time soon, they were guaranteed to chew him out if he stopped taking his prescribed medication.
                          
Dream felt slightly sluggish as he put his bathroom together, including some towels, which he put in a cabinet that was next to the sink. 
                          
He pulled off his shirt, smelling it and immediately pulling a face as he threw it on the floor. He would pick it back up later when he would eventually drag his hamper into his room. And then Dream made the mistake of looking back into his mirror.
                          
TW, Self Harm Scars and Mentions of Relapsing
                          
Dream traced his fingers over the scar tissue on his lower stomach. He remembered how he felt as he marked up the same area over and over, every day meaning more fresh wounds. Each time the scar getting more and more noticeable. 
                          
And now, he knew it was never going to look the same. It didn't look like most self-harm scars. He never cut anywhere else, just this one spot, as he vowed to never let anyone see it. 
                          
He found himself thinking of Sam, and how he left after Dream broke that vow. Dream had, unfortunately, relapsed when they broke up a year ago. But now it had been two months since he'd cut. 
                          
TW over
                          
He pulled his hand away from the memories, stripping, and getting into the shower.
                          
---
                          
When Dream had finally come downstairs, he realized that A, the living room was flooded with boxes and he'd almost one hundred percent end up doing at least half the work unpacking them, and B.
                          
Bad looked really happy. And that's saying something because bad almost always seems happy. 
                          
But as dream saw his expression, the edges of his eyes wrinkled and his lips pulled back into a genuine smile, he knew that Bad probably needed this positive change as much as he did. He was truly happy when he was with Sapnap, even if they were just scrolling through Twitter.
                          
He almost doesn't want to ruin the moment the two were having.
                          
"Hey guys, am I late to the party?" Bad looked up with a wide-eyed expression before he grinned widely, standing up to walk through the maze of boxes. 
                          
Dream expected a hello, or a handshake, buy what Dream didn't expect was for Bad to wrap his arms around him without hesitation. Dream was a bit taken aback at first, but he hugged back after a moment.
                          
"Where were you, you muffin head? I was getting tired of waiting." Bad complained, but Dream could tell it wasn't a genuine complaint, more a light-hearted jab at him. 
                          
And Dream didn't know why, but as Bad pulled away from him, the expression on his face soothed any and all worries dream had that he did anything to the moment other than make it better.
                          
"He was passed out because he was flirting with George all night," Sapnap said from the other side of the room, not even looking up from his phone.
                          
"Wha- Why do you even know that?!" Dream gaped, a blush rising to his face as Bad laughed a little bit at him.
                          
"Relax Dream, we're just poking fun at you," Bad poked him on the cheek, as if to literally poke fun at him.  "No need to get defensive on us." He chuckled again as he shushed Dream before he could deny it.
                          
"Well, guys," Bad clapped his hands, "We're finally here." And then he stretched, looking around at the place.
                          
There was random furniture everywhere, scattered in places it didn't belong and lmost every square foot of ground was covered in yet to be unpacked boxes.
                          
"And today, we're gonna unpack." Bad decided as Dream and Sapnap looked at him like he just kicked their cats. 
                          
As Bad went over to Sapnap and started dragging him off of the couch and into a standing position, Dream knew a couple of things, deep down.
                          
One, Bad cared more for his friends then Dream did about anything at all. Whether this was something wrong with Dream, or something amazing with Bad, Dream had no clue.
                          
Two, Dream didn't deserve friends this amazing. These two people alone are amazing enough to give him hope, even if it was misplaced. 
                          
Three, he was going to die. How could he have hope that he would live, when no one even knew he was gay?