Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Snow crunches loudly under bare feet, the bitter cold biting into his toes and making the skin there bright red. An angry, unforgiving color contrasting against the pale expanse of his skin.

Why am I here? Why does my head hurt?

All questions yet no answers and it frustrates him. It makes his head hurt even more, which only causes more frustration, and it takes a moment for him to realize the vicious cycle he’s in. He can’t keep himself calm. 

Footsteps grow heavier. He’s tired. He wants to lay down but there is nowhere for him to lay down. It’s all snow wherever he looks.

Since when is there snow in summer? Since when is there snow in Florida ?

A warm, sticky liquid rushes down the side of his face. It hurts. His head hurts so bad. He feels like throwing up. 

Trees loom over him, barren and frozen with icicles, swaying menacingly. A pond is up ahead— or maybe a lake? He’s never been good at identifying bodies of water. 

He trudges toward it, he doesn’t know why but he does. His limbs grow heavier with exhaustion and it becomes difficult just to keep himself up right. He sways, his movements following the branches of the trees above him. Like he’s following them. Like they’re mocking him. Everything hurts.

He makes it to the water, it’s frozen over but there’s still slush on the side of it. He feels his knees give out underneath him, unable to stop himself from falling. 

It’s so cold. His arms and legs are bare from him wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts. 

I should’ve dressed better for the weather. I didn’t know.

He lies there. He doesn’t know for how long, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not like he could get up if he wanted to. The comforting numbness surrounds him, almost like it’s heating him up, protecting him from the bitter, relentless cold. 

Red drips down onto the snow below, and it only takes a second for him to realize it’s coming from him. He gingerly places his hand where the pain is most prominent in his skull. When he pulls his hand away, his fingers are stained with blood. He glances down at it. It's dark red, almost brown, which scares him. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but then again, he doesn’t remember walking into this forest with nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. He doesn’t remember why it’s even snowing. 

It’s hard for him to think. It would be easier to lay down and sleep. Sleeping is always easier. 

—

Sapnap wakes with a jolt, his head bumping the backboard slightly. He winces, instinctively checking the side of his skull again, but finding nothing. Sap groans, harshly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Another bad night, another bad dream. It’s getting harder and harder to go on at this point. His entire body feels heavy, like it’s been filled with cement, and it’s cracking at his joints. 

Most of his morning is spent staring at the ceiling, ignoring the ache in his belly that’s begging for food or to relieve himself. He doesn’t feel like getting up, hasn’t for a long time— he could probably just stay here forever, soaking in the sun rays from his open window and the grime from his unwashed bed sheets. Two bad habits George gets on him for.

“Close the window, it’s fucking freezing in here.”

“You’re not a child, I shouldn’t have to remind you to do your goddamn laundry.”

Two reasons George doesn’t sleep with him anymore.

Last night he begged to be in George’s bed. He remembers crying and pleading with the other man to be taken, to be underneath him, to be given something to remind him George still loves him. That he’s still loved by somebody. The sobbing and blubbering almost worked, but the Brit never passes up an opportunity to show how cold he can be. 

“Get the fuck out, Nick. Go sleep with Dream or something,” he sighed and shooed the other man away with a flick of his wrist.

But Sapnap didn’t want to sleep with Dream. He wanted George. He thought George wanted him, too. That’s the whole point of dating someone, right? Did they break up and Sap just didn’t realize? 

His head starts to hurt again.

A pout forms on his lips, and he hates how childish he feels. He wants to kick and scream like a toddler, he wants to crawl to George’s bedroom and lie beside his boyfriend until all these feelings go away. He doesn’t think he can handle rejection at all right now, though, so he pushes the thought away. The best thing he can do right now is lay in his bed and try to ignore the gnawing sense of impending doom.

Eventually he stands, the feeling of pissing himself drawing closer and the potential embarrassment of George seeing him in that state is enough to make him want to throw up. 

He takes a shower after he’s done, deciding that it might help motivate him, and make him a little more presentable for George. He’ll wash his sheets today, clean up his room, and maybe a little bit of the kitchen. Maybe he’ll even be rewarded with affection at some point. The thought of George doting on him again after weeks of going cold turkey fills Sapnap’s body with warmth and pleasant tingles. He shivers, tearing up slightly as his hand travels south, imagining his own touch to be George’s, taking care of him after all this time.

He feels like a needy teenage virgin again, the slightest touch of his own hand making him jump and fold over himself. He has to grip onto the wall to make sure he doesn’t fall over. It’s embarrassing, all of this is so embarrassing. If he told George that he masturbated in the shower to the thought of him instead of asking for sex like a normal boyfriend he’d be dead from humiliation. But he can’t ask for normal sex, can he? He tried last night, begged for it even, yet George still turned him away. Scoffed in his face and kicked him to the curb like he was nothing but gum on the brunette’s shoe. 

Sapnap would never admit to another soul that he came at the thought of that.

Tears cling to his eyelashes in little beads, and he’s desperate not to let them fall. He wipes them away furiously, still gripping onto the wall tightly, afraid of letting go. It’s all too much. 

He stops the shower without washing the rest of his body, losing motivation quickly even though he just got it back. He wraps a warm, fluffy towel around his body and hugs it tight against him. He leans against the bathroom counter, staring blankly ahead at nothing. He feels disgusted with himself. 

—

Somehow he’s down in the kitchen, sitting criss-crossed at the dining table, fully dressed and picking at a plate of fried eggs. He doesn’t remember doing any of this, he doesn’t even remember leaving the bathroom, but he’s here now so… 

The front door knob jiggles around by someone on the other side, accompanied by the sound of a key sliding into the lock. Sapnap turns his head to it, watching as both George and Dream enter the house, carrying loads of shopping bags. 

Sapnap raises an eyebrow, “you guys were out?” He asks questioningly, his tone coming off a bit harsh.

George makes eye contact with him, something shifting in his gaze as he glances at his boyfriend. He shrugs, “guess so.”

Sap physically shivers at how cold that reply was. 

“Sorry, didn’t notice,” the younger shrinks on himself, avoiding the eyes staring at him. 

They both don’t say anything to him. With Dream it’s understandable, he’s putting away groceries and he appears to have his AirPods in. George on the other hand, seems to be blatantly and intentionally ignoring him, which is less understandable and instead hurts Sapnap’s heart way more than he’d like to admit. 

He watches as George doesn’t help Dream put the groceries away, choosing instead to put take-away boxes in the fridge.

Ah, so they went out to eat.

That’s not an unnecessarily uncommon thing in this household, eating out together is something sacred to the three of them, but usually they’re all invited, or it’s just George and Sapnap going on a date night. It’s odd that the two of them would go alone, and not even ask if he wanted to come. They probably just didn’t want to bother him. Or waste their time trying to wake him up. Either way, they must have had some good reason for going out just the two of them. They didn’t intentionally leave him out, that would be ridiculous, and Sapnap is not ridiculous enough to think that way.

That gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach doesn’t go away. He can’t shake the feeling he’s done something wrong. 

Nothing he does feels right anymore. He hasn’t felt right since he was 19, honestly. 

George shrugs past him, not bothering to turn around and look at him, almost like he’s invisible. The urge to cry is sudden and strong, leaving Sapnap with a large lump in his throat that feels like a sharp rock was lodged in there. He swallows painfully, choking back the tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks. It’s so pitiful, he’s a grown ass man and yet he’s crying over being ignored like he’s in middle school. It shouldn’t be unreasonable to expect your boyfriend to pay attention to you, and communicate with you properly, but it definitely feels like he’s being irrational. 

He turns toward the kitchen, but Dream doesn’t seem to want conversation right now, so Sapnap slumps back to his filthy, cluttered mess of a bedroom.

– 

He doesn’t get anything done, which is disappointing because he had so much he wanted to get done, and a whole plan of what tasks he wanted to do first. His sheets are still fucking dirty, probably even more so after he spent the whole day rotting in his bed. It’s gross. George already thinks it’s gross and if the sheets don’t get washed, George will never sleep in Sapnap’s bed again. 

He needs to wash these damn sheets, but he can’t get up, can’t even sit up without immediately lying back down. He wonders where all the motivation from earlier went. Sapnap shudders at the memory of him in the shower earlier. He felt so pathetic then, and feels even more pathetic now. 

His eyes grow heavier and heavier as time flies by him. Sapnap glances at the clock in the corner of his phone screen.

11:41 p.m.

There’s no appropriate way to describe how disappointed he is in himself. He didn’t even work on a video today, or stream, or do basically fucking anything. He showered and masturbated. Those were his great accomplishments, how fucking pathetic is that? 

Tears gather in his waterline, flooding his vision almost immediately, and for the first time in months, Sapnap allows himself to cry. It’s silent and unsatisfying, his hand covering his mouth to muffle his stupid, miserable little whimpers. Since the wall separating his and George’s rooms is so thin, he has to be extra careful to not let any sounds slip through and alert the other man of how dramatic he’s being. Sapnap is pretty sure he’d die on the spot if George found him like this right now. The thought itself is embarrassing enough and makes Sapnap cry harder. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and turns off his phone, flipping over so that he’s on his stomach so he can bury his face into a pillow. 

His crying session doesn’t last long. In less than 10 minutes he’s already stopped, now left a sniffling mess. He’s so tired. 

The position he’s in makes it easy to imagine George is in the room with him, rubbing his back, comforting him, telling him it’s all going to be ok. Nothing feels ok, but if George says it is, then Sapnap has no choice but to believe him. 

Sapnap subconsciously leans into the touch, eager for more attention, only for the fantasy to break as he realizes he’s leaning against his big Gengar plushie. An embarrassed red quickly floods his cheeks, his skin burning with humiliation. He abruptly sits up, knocking the plushie onto the ground, staring at it with betrayal. 

He sits and stares at the ground for some time, before lying back down again, pulling his blanket close to his chin. 

I can always try again tomorrow, I guess.

Chapter Text

Sapnap didn’t plan to wake up at 6 in the morning, and apparently neither did George, Sapnap thinks to himself as he stares at George’s bedroom door, no sound or any sign of life coming from behind it. He shuffles awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He wants to go inside, to see his boyfriend and be comforted after the nightmare he had that kept him awake for hours. 

He’s never had more than one nightmare in a row before. It scares him. 

It scared him yet he barely remembers it. All he can remember is lying in a shed, holding a rotting grapefruit while crows picked at his skin. A horse laid dead beside him, and he vaguely remembers petting it while flies buzzed around them incessantly. 

There has to be some kind of meaning to it, but he doesn’t really want to look it up, not having any desire to understand what’s happening in his brain. 

He shifts on both feet, trying to muster up the courage to knock, before he feels something brush past his leg. It startles him, makes him lose balance since he was only on his tip toes, and he falls forward, making a loud thud as his body connects with the door. He looks down to see what the hell rubbed against him, only to see Naomi staring back at him innocently, like she didn’t just betray her father, the man who adopted her so she wouldn’t be lonely without Milo at the shelter. That traitor.

He glares at her and tries to pick her up, but she hurriedly runs from him, content in leaving him there with a very angry George, who he belatedly realizes is standing right in front of him. 

“What do you want?” The older man whines grumpily, his eyes half-closed from drowsiness.

Sapnap stumbles on his words, stammering pathetically as he tries to get the right words out. George doesn’t like that. The Brit rubs his eyes and grumbles under his breath, closing his bedroom door again, before Sapnap sticks his foot in the doorway to keep it open a crack. 

“I- I had a bad dream,” he whimpers, staring at George with wide eyes, pleading with him silently. 

George stares down at him, their one inch height difference seeming like ten with the way Sapnap shrinks in on himself. He considers Sapnap’s plea for a moment, studying his boyfriend like a lab experiment. Sapnap begins to lose hope, expecting the door to slam in his face and his heart to break all over again.

George looks at him through the crack in the doorway, his gaze softening considerably. A few more minutes go by of just them staring at each other, before George opens the door and gestures for the other man to come inside. Sapnap feels like a boulder has been lifted off of his chest, his heart genuinely feeling lighter at the opportunity to be close to George. 

He lets himself sit on George’s bed, watching the older man pad over and settle back into bed, their gazes slowly meeting. To Sapnap’s surprise, the look George gives him is one of longing, of genuine fondness that it makes Sapnap ache. He couldn’t remember the last time George looked at him like that, he didn’t even know the other was capable of it anymore. Sap allows himself to lie down with George, which for some reason makes the other man giggle.

He must be tired. 

But still, Sapnap smiles, he’s missed hearing George’s giggles and his laugh. Oh God, did he miss George’s laugh. The only time he got to hear that beautiful sound these past few months was when he replayed old vods from years ago, when they were in their prime and George would always laugh the hardest at Dream’s cheesy jokes. George always seemed so happy with Dream. 

“You’re so cute.”

George’s voice easily breaks Sapnap out of the weird trance he’s in. 

The words take a second to register in his brain, but once they do, Sapnap finds himself giggling as well. “How am I cute?” 

George shrugs, “I don’t know, you just are.”

Sapnap shakes his head fondly as he gets under the covers. The way George smiles and the way his eyes light up makes Sapnap lose his breath momentarily. The older man is genuinely beautiful. 

I can’t believe I get to call him mine.

It’s still so hard to believe. It was hard for him to accept it for the past few months. He doesn’t want to think about that right now, though.

“You’re weird,” Sapnap says softly as he finally settles into George’s bed, the two men gazing at each other lovingly.

When was the last time they were like this? What made George so hesitant to continue this, but also made him so hesitant to break things off? How are they still together after a month of not speaking to each other? 

Sapnap’s stomach lurches in discomfort, and he squirms, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

George notices the way the other man shifts and decides to move closer to him. Sapnap swallows thickly, his face growing a bit red at their sudden proximity.This is what we wanted, right? So why does being this close to George– to his boyfriend– make him uncomfortable? 

He can’t really concentrate on that right now though, not with George’s breath fanning across his cheek, not when their bodies are so close together they’re practically melding into each other. Suddenly, so suddenly, Sapnap’s discomfort transforms into bliss. He remembers the ache for George’s touch and the need to be close to the other man. It makes him feel like he’s in heaven, like he’s dead and this is God rewarding him. 

This isn’t a dream, right?

“You gonna be good for me?” George’s voice easily brings Sapnap back to reality for the second time. His low, sultry tone mixed with thick british accent, so heavy with sleep drives the younger man wild.

He opens his mouth to respond, but a low whine catches in the back of his throat as George bucks into him slightly. Sap nods quickly, too overwhelmed and dizzy with the sudden contact.

But George doesn’t let him get away that easily. 

“Ah, ah, use your words. I know you can,” he whispers, and that damn smug little smirk on his face is enough to make Sapnap lose all coherent thoughts. 

“Yes, yes, would be so good for you,” Sapnap babbles, his eyes going slightly glassy as he feels George’s smirk widen against the skin of his neck, and yes, yes, he’s finally getting what he’s wanted for weeks now– “I showered yesterday for you,” he admits without thinking, “wanted to be good for you.”

The energy in the room shifts. He doesn’t know why, but he can feel it. George stops smiling, and now he’s pulling away from Sapnap’s neck, and Sapnap has to stifle a whine. Did he do something wrong?

He pouts and leans forward, trying to catch George’s lips in a kiss, but George pulls back, his expression tense all of a sudden. The brit clears his throat awkwardly, and he isn’t looking in Sapnap’s direction anymore.

“George? What’s wrong?” He cringes as he hears how small and timid he sounds. He wishes he didn’t sound as desperate for George as he so clearly is. 

George shakes his head, almost to pull himself out of something. “No, it’s nothing. Really, I’m okay,” he lies poorly, finally meeting Sapnap’s eyes. But he’s not looking at the other with lust anymore, if Sapnap had to describe what was pooling in the brit’s eyes, it would be nothing short of pity. 

“Are you-” George cuts him off before he can finish, shushing him with that deceptively sweet voice of his. 

He pushes Sapnap back down on the bed with a hand on the back of the other man’s head, his fingers threading through the thick, light brown locks. “Sh, shh… it’s okay. Just lie down.”

Anger suddenly flares in Sapnap’s chest at how George is treating him like a helpless baby. “But we were going to-” 

“Just go to sleep,” George interrupts yet again, his tone more annoyed this time.

How dare he. How could he go from ignoring Sapnap, treating him like he’s nothing more than a nuisance in his life, to suddenly treating him like he’s a fragile doll, that one wrong move and the younger man will break. It’s just not fair. All the warmth and the touches are gone and he has no idea why or even what he did wrong. 

Does George really not love him anymore?

“I’m going to sleep, you should too,” he hears George grunt and settle back into bed, turned on his side and completely facing away from him.

Sapnap tries to fall asleep, he really does. He’s tired but sleep just won’t come to him. He’s too focussed on the sleeping body of his boyfriend next to him. His boyfriend. His boyfriend and yet he’s being treated the way he is. Like an inconvenience, not someone you love unconditionally. If he had known George’s love was conditional, he wouldn’t have gone so deep with him. It’s too late now, though, no one can pull him out of this little rabbit hole he fell into. 

Unfortunately, his pants are still tight and he’s still overrun with need, but he can’t just masturbate when George is sleeping right beside him, and he doesn’t want to get up and disturb him. There’s nothing he can do but lie there, silently crying and whimpering whenever he accidentally rubs his thighs together.

What did he do wrong?

He wanted so much.