Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dream was used to fighting. He was used to the feeling of exhaustion coursing through his limbs after a good manhunt recording. He was used to the way that a good MCC event would have him crashing by the end of the day. 

He could deal with the injuries that made him bleed. All it took was a couple of bandages, and sure it hurt, but it could always be fixed. He could deal with falling off of block towers in manhunts, feeling his bones crush beneath him as he hit the floor, and then respawning. 

His friends would be with him to help the pain lessen. They would tell him stories of their side of the manhunt after he died. Maybe seeing a large hoard of creepers, or being chased by piglins in a bastion.

Or when they would all crash into each other after a MCC. All exhausted and recalling moments from the event. Congratulating each other on their victories. 

It was all so easy.

He could deal with water filling his lungs and pulling him downwards. In a literal sense. He could deal with the physical pain of drowning.

But the idea of ‘drowning’ had two sides. 

He hadn’t gotten out of bed at all today. He had woken up this morning and he just felt heavy. He hadn't had the energy to get out of bed, so he just went back to sleep. 

He had woken up again with his clothes sticking to him because of sweat. He still hadn’t gotten up. 

Everything just felt dull. He knew they were supposed to be recording a video today. He really didn’t want to. He didn’t want to get in front of a camera and pretend that everything was fine.

He honestly could just tell the others that he wanted a day off and would edit instead, but that honestly just seems worse. He didn’t want to look at himself for that long. He knew he had a mask on, but still. 

Dream groaned into his pillow. It was dark in his room. The lights were still off and the only hint of brightness was the small sliver of sunlight coming through the closed curtains. 

He just wanted to disappear into the earth and never deal with any of this again. Everything was the same dull routine and he was tired of feeling like shit. 

He felt his stomach rumble. 

Right. He hadn’t eaten since… Yesterday morning? He didn’t really know anymore. He wasn’t keeping track. He wasn’t hungry. 

He knew his stomach was telling him otherwise, but he didn’t want to eat. Eating made him feel gross. Eating made him hyper aware of everything that was wrong with him. Eating made what the people on Twitter say true. 

He was still kinda embarrassed about how this whole slump started. It was so dumb. He didn’t know how one stupid comment from one of his friends could make him spiral this much. 

It had been a normal conversation yesterday morning. He, George, and Sapnap were sat around their table eating pancakes that Bad was making them. Bad had wanted to try out a new style of pancakes and said it would be fun the day before recording. 

They were extremely good. They had all enjoyed the food and had thanked Bad when he was done. Then George had said it. 

“Bro, I just weighed myself again last week and I’m still losing weight. I really need to start eating more. I’ve been trying, it’s so annoying.”

He wasn’t specifically talking to Dream. He was talking to all of them. But, Dream had instantly felt awkward standing there. 

Dream knew he wasn’t fat, but putting yourself out online certainly had its consequences. People were always trying to find something wrong with you just because they wanted you to feel bad.

His size was always a target. He understood that he was bigger than George and Sapnap, but he was also taller. 

He hated the people that commented on his body. Before starting the manhunts and gaining popularity for his skills and fighting, he hadn’t thought of his body in so long.

He used to struggle with it way back in his childhood, but he got over it. He was over it when he became friends with George and Sapnap. He was over it when they had started their first manhunt on a random server. 

Then with the amount of eyes on them, it came back.

Dream groaned again. He knew that George had no intention of making him feel bad, but it had made the happiness of a nice breakfast disappear from him instantly. 

He was then hyper aware of the pancakes he just ate. Had he eaten much more than his friends? Did they think he was eating too much? They probably thought he was gaining weight. 

Dream had excused himself from the room and instantly flopped into his bed once he got to his room. He hadn’t moved since then. 

He felt disgusting. He was disgusting. His hair was getting greasy and he knew the sweat sticking to him probably smells gross. He didn’t want to deal with it now.

He just wanted to cry. 

He felt over his stomach. He knew he wasn’t fat. He was healthy and that’s all that mattered. He still felt his heart sink when he could feel the way that his belly was. He wanted to disappear.

It was so fucking dumb. Why was this happening? He just wanted the world to swallow him whole and never spit him back out. Dream felt a tear slip out of his eye and run down the side of his face. 

He stayed there until the sun had reached the point that it would set again soon. Wrapped in his blankets ignoring the rest of the world. He was gross. 

He heard a knock on his door.

For fucks sake. 

“Dream?” 

He didn’t respond. He just buried himself farther into his bed. There was no other noise for a minute. Then Dream heard the door opening and he cursed himself for not locking it beforehand. 

“Dream?” 

It was George. Of course it was George. Sweet, kind, perfect, George. He felt the bed dip down beside him. 

“Have you gotten up today?” George asked him softly. 

Dream didn’t move. He didn’t want to do this right now. Dealing with it was too much.

He shook his head anyway. 

“Why not?” 

George’s voice was ever so quiet. He placed a hand on Dream’s back and rubbed it softly. 

“cant-“ it was the first thing Dream had said in what felt like ages. He sounded horrible. His voice was scratchy and rough.

“You can’t?” 

Dream shook his head. His face was still pressed into the blankets. 

“Are you thirsty?” George asked him. 

His throat was so dry. He nodded his head. 

“Can you sit up? I have some water.”

Dream really didn’t want to. He just wanted to disappear. He sighed slightly before pushing himself up off the bed.everything felt ten times worse now that he was upright. He was fucking disgusting and he was mad George was here it see it.

He looked at George and the soft knowing look in his eyes made Dream want to gag. The older handed Dream a glass of water and he took it. He drank it slowly, relishing in the way it soothed his sore throat. He finished the glass and set it down on his bedside. 

They sat in silence for another couple of minutes. George was still rubbing his back softly. Why was he still so tired? He hadn’t done anything. Why was George still here?

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” 

George asked casually. Dream was caught off guard by the question and turned to the man beside him in confusion.

“What?” 

George rolled his eyes slightly. 

“Do you have to pee, Dream?” 

Dream was still so confused. 

“I- I don’t know,” he answered, “why?” 

“Well I could come with you if it would be easier.” 

Dream felt his cheeks heat up. Why? Why could George read him like an open book?

“George-,” Dream scoffed, anger in his voice trying to hide the humiliation, “I’m not fucking two, I can go to the bathroom by myself.”

George shook his head slowly. 

“I know Dream. I was just already going to brush my teeth anyway and thought it would make it easier for you to get up, y’know?” 

Dream hated that he was right. He hated it with every bone in his body. Dream kicked his covers off his legs and began standing up. George stood beside him and grabbed Dream’s hand, pulling him to the bathroom.

George brushed his teeth while Dream pissed. When Dream finished he washed his hands and waited for George. The older one turned to him.

“Do you want to shower?” He asked softly, “I can wait here.” 

Dream nodded, not meeting George’s eyes. 

George sat on the floor of the bathroom while he waited for Dream to shower. Dream had to admit it was nice to finally wash the grime and sweat from his body. When he got out he had noticed that George had brought him a clean pair of pants and a shirt. He took it gratefully and put them on. 

George then led him to his own room. He looked at Dream and smiled softly.

“If you’re tired we can go back to bed.” 

Dream looked at George’s clean bed. It looked nice. He looked back to George and nodded. George was about to get in bed when Dream stopped him.

“…can I have a hug?” Dream asked quietly. 

George opened his arms and Dream instantly tucked himself into George. He felt a sob tear it’s way from his throat suddenly and tears began forming in his eyes. George held him tighter.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Dream cried into George’s arms. George held him the whole time. 

He didn’t even really know why he was crying anymore. Maybe it was the way that he was never good enough. Maybe it was the way that George treated him so kindy even when he was a mess. Maybe it was the way that he couldn’t get out of his own head and hated himself for it.

Dream tried to stop crying, but it wasn’t any use. All the feelings that he had repressed for the past day came pouring out on him overwhelming his mind. 

George didn’t mind though. He just held Dream tightly, whispering softly into his ear. He let Dream cry into his shoulder. He brushed his hand through Dream’s hair, trying to sooth him.

They stayed like that until Dream had no more tears to cry and both of them were tired from standing on their feet. 

Dream pulled away and George looked up at him sweetly, using his thumb to softly wipe the tears away. 

“You wanna sleep?” George asked, not prying at Dream about why he cried in the first place. George hadn't once asked Dream what was wrong. He only had helped. It didn’t matter what was going on, George was going to help him. 

Dream nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

They both slipped into bed and Dream felt George wrap his arms around him. Dream relaxed into the other's hold. His eyes were tired.

He let them slip shut as sleep threatened to overtake him. He was so utterly exhausted, even though he had done nothing. He sighed softly.

“I love you.”

George whispered it, placing a small kiss into his hair.

“Love you too.”