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Dream’s hands were shaking. He usually didn’t get scared this quickly on hunts like this. It was just supposed to be a standard hunt. An easy video that would hold place for bigger projects that they were working on at the same time. It was supposed to be nothing more than a place holder.
So why was the stupid warehouse they came to 30 times more paranormal than half the places they spent weeks researching and looking up? Why did two of their flashlights stop working in the middle of the hunt and one of their good cameras stop working at all? It was activating just as much as it was scary.
All this good equipment they had put effort into bringing out here only for half of it to break immediately.
Dream huffed, tuning a partly gloved hand through sweaty blond bands. That was another thing. It was burning hot outside. He had anticipated that the, what was it, late September night would have been cooler than this. Especially with all the cooler weather that they had been getting round here lately. He should have known better though. Florida was hell and it never did anything that was helpful for any of them.
His long sleeves were really starting to irritate him though and he knew he was being pissy with everyone at the moment. He had already snapped at George multiple times for messing with him. He felt bad about it, but he really couldn't find it in himself to care.
It was just a lot. Tonight was just a lot. He was getting tired of it. Tired of his heart racing from every little jump that got to him. Tired of their equipment dying on them. Tired of everything.
He stretched his neck, wincing as it cracked from the motion. He needed to sleep. He needed to do a lot of things actually, edit, talk with the merch company, meet with their manager, all on top of working on the new project.
Dream ran his fingers over his face. Gods, he really should not have planned this for tonight. The fandom could have gone a couple more weeks without content until he was ready to post the next video. Now he would have to edit this one on top of everything else he has to do.
“Dream,” He peeled his eyes back open when he heard his name get called. Bad was looking at him. Dream could see the lingering concern in the older man’s gaze, but he chose to ignore it. He really didn’t have time to get fathered by his friend right now.
He needed to get this night finished. Then maybe he could sleep some? He probably should start editing and finding clips tonight though cause he really didn’t want to get behind on another project. He also really needed to get up early enough to work out tomorrow because he really had been slacking off on it lately.
”Dream!” His name was said a bit harsher this time and he snapped himself out of whatever daydream he was caught in. Bad was still poking at him, but the worry was amplified and he was closer now. Dream sighed.
”Yeah?” Dream hummed, rubbing at his temples. The whole crew was looking at him now, and I was really starting to get under his skin. How much did he sleep last night? Was he really this irritable?
“You okay? You’ve been staring at Bad for three minutes now,” Sapnap huffed, taking a couple of steps to close into Dream’s space.
“I’m fine,” Dream answered, trying not to be obvious about stepping back. The room was starting to feel a lot more closed in than he remembered it being earlier.
“You don’t look fine,” Bad said, tone a lot softer than Sapnaps had been a couple of moments before. It almost made Dream just want to tell them all that he was tired and wanted to go back home and sleep. He didn’t want to be scared shitless for one night. His pride had always been too much for that though.
”Well, I am fine,” Dream replied, softening his own voice, “Just a bit tired.” Which was really a huge understatement, but he would have to work with it.
“Is this ghost related? Or just life related?” Sapnap asked, shining a flashlight in his direction that was far too bright. Is he just tired? Or was it something more? Dream shook the thought away. He was just tired. He had been tired for weeks. Now was no different.
“Not ghost related. Just tired,” He stressed, turning back to Sam who was holding the camera, and away from his friends concerned faces, “Can we please go ahead with this so we can get home before fucking 4am?” He didn’t want to see the flash of hurt that he knew was present on all of his friend’s faces. Gods, he knew he was being an asshole, but he really wasn’t in the mood for all of this. He never should have come tonight. Why does he do this to himself?
”Dream,” Hearing his name was making the back of his head ache. What was going on with him? Maybe he should just call this off before he did something stupid that would get all of them hurt. He could handle putting himself in danger, but when it came to his friends, he couldn’t imagine it.
He shook his head, ignoring the wash of pain that went through him from it. “Let’s just get this done, okay?” He grunted, pushing past Sam and reaching into the backpack he had thrown down just a couple of minutes ago. He pulled out both a rem pod and the flashlights that they used for investigations. The familiar equipment felt weird in his hands. He really was out of it tonight.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked him, moving a couple of steps out of his way as he walked back by. Dream nodded, not really sparing a second glance back at his friend.God, he was such an asshole. Maybe this was why half of the internet outside his fandom hated him. Maybe this is why he grew up with no friends that actually wanted to stick around.
He brought his hands up to his eyes, dropping the equipment to the floor. He groaned, rubbing at them. He felt like absolute shit and his mind was running him in circles. Circles he really worked on not thinking about for the sake of hid own mental health.
“Woah,” Baid hummed in worry, reaching for him as the equipment clattered to the ground. Dream flinched back. His nerves felt like they were on fire. It was just Bad. He wasn’t in danger. He was fine. He was-
”Dude, calm down, what’s going on?” Sapnap took a couple of steps forward, Dream shook his head. His hands were trembling. His heart was pounding. Every nerve in his body felt like it was vibrating.
”I’m fine,” He snapped, whipping his head away and looking to see if the REM pod had bounced underneath a cement desk. Who the fuck owns a cement desk? Dream shrugged off Bad’s worried hands as he bent down and reached under the desk. Couldn’t even keep his own equipment in his hands. God, he really was a mess. Why couldn’t he do anything right? Why was he-
The doorway in the corner of Dream’s vision caught his eye. His attention lingered on it as the form of some kind of shadow cryptid leaned in and looked directly at him. The figures eyes were wide and black. The whole thing was black actually. But the eyes. They were so dark. Dream could feel his head thundering in his chest as the figure watched him. He couldn’t move. His body was frozen. He was shaking.
In one moment the figure scrambled across the door in a mention that made his entire stomach twist in fear. Dream instantly shot up, wanting to get to his feet and away from whatever he had just seen. The back of his skull slammed into the concrete desk above him. He yelped and instantly clutched the back of his head with a groan. His vision was spinning. He cursed under his breath, pain still throbbing through his skull.
“Dream!” Someone gasped, falling to their knees beside him. Dream shook his head. His eyes were jammed closed but he could still see the cryptids face. Long and disordered, eyes gaping black. His stomach was spinning inside of him. He resisted the urge to gag and forced his eyes open. He looked back up at the door against his better judgement. There was nothing. Just darkness. No figure.
He sucked in a deep breath, palm pressing over his heart. He could feel the organ pounding beneath his hand. Dream took another deep breath in, trying to calm his rapidly increasing heart rate.
“Dream, hey,” It was Bad. The older man was kneeled down next to him, hands hovering worriedly over his head. “Can you hear me?” Dream nodded, then instantly regretted the motion when his stomach swam. He doubled over, gagging slightly. Nothing came up. There wasn't anything able to come up because he hadn’t been eating enough. He dry heaved against the floor, eyes watering in pure pain and misery.
“Don’t move too much, you’re probably concussed,” Bad hummed softly, hand slowly brushing against Dream’s hair. Dream glared at him, frustration and pain bubbling over.
“No shit,” He hissed, using his body weight to shift himself upwards. He didn’t feel safe here. He wanted to leave. He wanted all of them out of this building in the next thirty seconds if it was up to him. Bad looked a bit stunned.
“No need for that shit, man,” Sapnap took a step forward, his words settling heavy over the ground. Dream stumbled a bit as he stood, guilt swimming through his veins. His pride took a hit as he sighed.
“Sorry. It hurts,” Dream admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “Didn’t mean to snap.” Bad nodded at his apology, which Dream considered enough of a forgiveness. There was a small crack down the hallway that had started this all. Dream froze. The whole group did.
“Can we leave?” Dream asked, hand hovering over their bag, ready to pick it up, “I don’t have a good feeling about this place.” Another noise from down the hall. Dream flinched. He looked back.
The cryptid was there, face more distorted than before. It stared at him, blood dripping from its empty eye sockets and demon-like claws that gauged from its hands. Dream’s breath caught. It tilted his head at him, mouth gaping open. The figure's hand was grasped around something. There was a soft dragging. Dream looked.
It was half of a body. Its heat was eaten out like a chicken bone. It’s limbs were hanging usefully. Dream resisted another gag. The cryptid dropped the body, grinning wildly before spamming in his direction. Dream flinched. A half scream getting caught in his throat. He screwed his eyes shut in terror.
“Dream! Hey, breathe, what’s going on?” His eyes blinked back open. There was nothing. Dreams' fingers were beginning to tremble. He clutched the bag in his palm.
“We need to leave. Now.“ He whispered, voice shaking in fear and the lingering pain from the back of his head. He reached back and rubbed over the spot that had been hit. He ignored the way that his finds came back wet. He ignored the iron he smelled on them. His friends were watching him with a mixture of confusion and fear.
“We can go,” Bad hummed, “We can go.” Dream nodded, pulling his bag closer to his chest. His friends quickly grabbed their own equipment getting all of their things back together. When it was all packed away, Bad wrapped an arm around his back, leading him out. He ignored the soft sound of dragging from the hallway behind them. They all did. It was easier that way.
Dream tried to breathe easier. It was okay. They were leaving.
Turns out, having a concussion fucking sucks more than any injury hes had before. And that's coming from a man who has dislocated both knees, broken his back, and snapped a couple ribs in the past.
He couldn’t do anything. Sitting in the dark all day was bad for him, according to the doctor. Apparent, completely isolating yourself from light and brain processing doesn’t help the brain heal at all. So he couldn’t just sleep in his room all day. That was bad for his head.
However, he couldn’t be on his phone. He couldn’t watch TV or listen to music or god forbid edit. anything that reflected light into his face was a huge no. Anything that caused his brain any sort of thinking, was completely bad for him. That left him without anything to do. Nothing.
He had sat on the couch and hardly moved all day for three days in a row. His friends would sit by him periodically, but they had stuff to do. They couldn’t sit on the couch all day. He had things to do too. He just couldn't do them.
He was getting behind on editing. He needed to edit videos. He needed to get things out to the fans and see their reaction to the new content==nt to formulate their next travel plans and how to go about their investigation. He couldn’t do any of that like this. He couldn’t look at his computer. He couldn’t think. He just sat. And stared.
He did pick up a pencil and stretch book though, carefully drawing for the first time in years. It was messy. Freeing.. Simple. It was the only thing that he could do really. No screens, but books made him think too much when processing words. So drawing, which used very little brain power, was the only real option.
Dream sighed, tearing the page out and setting it down on the table. He didn’t want to look at what he had drawn. He hadn't been able to get the image out of his head for almost a week now. The shadow figure, blended and distorted. His eyes flicked down to the page against his brain's wants. A shitty drawing of what he had seen stared back up at him.
“Whats that?” Dream nearly jumped off of the couch. He cursed, heart pounding in his chest. He whipped around to see Sapnap standing there, leaning against the back of the couch.
“Nothing, just doodling,” Dream lied, trying to sweep the drawing out of the younger man’s view. Sapnap hummed. The younger man swung his legs around the back of the couch and sat next to him, leaning a bit into his friend.
“You know you can talk to us if something is wrong, right Dream,” Sap asked, staring back down at the multitude of torn nd crumpled up papers on the table beneath him. Dream nodded.
“II know. Im trying,” He answered honestly, fiddling with the pencil. “It’s hard.” Sap reached out and squeezed his knee gently.
“I know. Im glad your trying though.” Emotions had always been a sore topic for Dream. He didn’t like to talk about his or show them. He would rather someone be able to tell how hes doing from the outside than him having to go to them and telling them. He hated it. He hated the vulnerability.
He has had the problem since he was little. He never liked talking about the things that bothered him. He didn't like talking about the shadowmen he had seen from his new=d when he was only six years old. He didn’t like to talk about the night horrors or terrors. He didn’t like being vulnerable. He liked having control over the information people had on him. He liked the idea of being able to choose who knew what and who talked about what. It made it easier for him not to be a burden. For him not to be a problem. It was something he struggled severely with.
His friends were trying to make him better at that.
Sapnap leaned his head into Dream’s shoulder, “Don’t stress about work and stuff,” Sapnap said, voice soft, “We’re all taking care of it. You need to rest ad get better. Dream nodded with a sigh. The talk of his concussion only reminded him how bored he was. He leaned his head onto Sapnap’s.
“Thanks for looking out for me, man,” Drem hummed, letting his eyes slip shut and let his head rest. He was getting tired. His eyelids were getting heavy. Sapnap smiled beside him, giving him a half hug.
“Always.”