*Frisk's POV*

The hotel was named "Sweet dreams and nightmares".

I had named it after my own "sweet dream" or, "nightmare".

In this case, a sweet dream is something that leaves a gentle taste on your tongue in the morning, a warm feeling that holds you in it's arms until it feels tired and weak. Sweet dreams were things that left you in a sleepy mood the rest of the day, left you in a mood that nothing could break.

The were rare of course, but the common nightmares are different.

Nightmare is a word that means "a terrifying or very unpleasant experience or prospect", or it means  "a frightening or unpleasant dream". Nightmares are things that leave you in tears, in anxious sickness that couldn't leave as long as the day went on, and they make it so you dread the next moment you need to sleep.

When both come together, both sweet dreams and nightmares.... was such a thing possible?

In my head, I couldn't seem to decide it.

After that night, the night in the hotel that had left me in a blank empty silence, I had a dream that filled me with both feelings.

Both expectations.

Each of them fearful, yet yearning.

At the time, I couldn't understand what I wanted.

Not when I had the sickest... sweetest... scariest dream that I could have ever imagined on myself.

The dream went something like this:

G's arms were around me, their stubborn structure suddenly protective and gentle, like a father holding his child. Yet G was not holding a child, he was holding me. 

The feeling was so real to me, so true, I almost believed I was in his arms.

I almost believed that he held me around the waist with his hands on my upper and lower back, and his chest pressed against mine.

His forehead pressed against mine.

I could hear his soft voice, and I felt lifeless.

I felt empty.

My hands and arms weren't moving, and my eyes seemed shut even though I could see perfectly.

I could see G holding me.

I could see his eyes shut and his face completely relaxed.

Why was I so tense?

So afraid?

Why wasn't I pushing him off me and screaming at what an idiot he was?

There was no way I was enjoying that right?

What scared me most, was the fact I couldn't see or feel where his lips were going.

Thoughts seemed distant in my dream, they seemed lost, trying to find out which was right and wrong before they pushed themselves into my brain.

That's when I saw my own arms around him, yet I couldn't tell if there were clothes on us or not.

The dream was so vivid, so real!

How could I have let myself have this, imagine this, put the image in my head until it choked the life out of tight chest that was loosing air.

Gentle.

Stern.

Serious.

No, the mood couldn't have been serious. 

As I had the dream, I felt no emotion except the tingling pleasure and enjoyment of what was happening.

Yet when I heard a soft whisper, words I couldn't quite make out, the dream ended as fast as it had started.

That's when thoughts finally forced their way in to my head, swarming me with the one question that stood above all the rest.

'Do you think this was a sweet dream? Or a nightmare?'

The question felt like too much, it felt sickly and unholy, like asking a child where babies came from.

No satisfaction came to me as I opened my eyes to the sun shinning sharply through the window next to G's bed, the light heating the skin on my face.

Along with the blush that burned my cheeks, and the sick words that wanted to force their way out of my mouth.

Blank emotion was all that filled me, and I knew that the feeling was empty.

The feeling was nerve?

Worry?

Enjoyment?

No. I crossed enjoyment from my mind and continued to cross it off as it continued to enter my head.

The emotions that mashed inside me caused my head to stop thinking, unable to think straight or feel happy.

What did I feel?

It couldn't be what I felt from the dream, the want, the lust, the pleasure.

No, it couldn't have been that.

I forced myself to believe it wasn't that.

Trying to clear my thoughts, I quickly tried to think of what triggered the dream.

What had made me think of loving G?

Hatred burned my heart every time I saw him smirk or even look at me.

Anger ached my soul every time I heard him speak or snicker in his mocking way.

Yet blush always crept it's way up my cheeks every time I heard him laugh.

Genuinely laugh.

The crazy thought shocked me, and suddenly the sheets felt as heavy as metal while they weighed me down on the soft mattress that felt suffocating.

Jolting up from the bed, I felt my tight chest struggle for breath as I gasped, wanting air that seemed to far to reach.

That dream!

How could I have had such a dream?!

Why would I want such a dream?!

Nightmare.

I forced myself to call it a nightmare as I gasped for breath, throwing the blankets off me as if they were chaining me down.

The actual chains that dangled from my wrists seemed to be something I could blame, something I could say, "You made me have this dream- Nightmare. This nightmare."

Struggling with all my might, I tried to free myself from the chains that held tightly to me.

Though I knew they wouldn't come undone, I tried anyway, trying to distract my mind from what I had just imagined.

G's hands, holding me close.

His smoky scent almost too real.

His presence too close.

His lips somewhere that filled me with enjoyment, want.

The fake me.

The slut me.

Was I really a slut?

Air seemed to far to reach and I gasped for it, feeling to hot in the heavy bed that sunk my weight into the mattress.

G would enjoy the comfort it gave his bones.

'No,' I said sternly in my head, sickness overwhelming me as I thought of how awful G truly was, 'Don't think of him. Don't think of the dre- Nightmare. It isn't real. Will never be real.'

I never wanted it to be real.

Yet it felt so... so real.

So close, it felt as if one reach of my hand and I could grasp the feeling before me, holding it close and feeling it again.

I never wanted that.

I never wanted to reach out and feel that presence, feel that sickly image that burned it's way into my head, flashing before me each time I shut my eyes.

Trying to keep them open, I stared at the blankets that now sprawled off the bed and onto the soft carpeted floor.

Then my eyes noticed a white and black figure, sitting up in it's bed and staring at me with a shocked and amused expression I wanted to erase.

I wanted to erase him.

Get rid of his image.

Wish he was never there just because of that dream that filled me with the sweetness and fear that crawled through my skin, each fighting to give me goosebumps. 

"... Wow dollface ya have a nightmare or something?" G asked in a tone that really said, "You nuts?"

Emotion leaped into my throat and I choked as my head turned to him, too fast it seemed as I soon turned dizzy with sickness.

Dollface.

The name seemed to finally notice me, and it pulled me to it with an angry thrust that forced puke to wobble my stomach, causing me to grip it tightly with one hand, the other on my neck where my mixed emotions stayed.

I couldn't identify these emotions, and I didn't want to.

Mostly because I didn't want to find any emotion I wouldn't want.

Enjoyment.

Sweetness.

Want.

Love?

'NO!' I screamed at myself, my face pale as I stared at G, 'NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! YOU WILL NEVER LOVE HIM!'

As I stared at G, the word 'no' replayed in my head until I could feel it pounding my skull with a terrible headache.

"Yeah..." I gulped, forcing a weak smile that seemed to force my awkward tense mood out into the open, "Something like that..."

G still looked at me strangely, and I kept my eyes on his forehead instead of his arms, trying to forget what they looked like wrapped around me.

Trying to recall every memory of G I hated, I stared him in the eyes with a face that seemed to serious.

G leaned back a bit, as if he was cautious of me hurting him.

Then, taking advantage of the situation, he leaned forward with a smirk and eyes that lowered halfway, sending shivers and messages shooting through my head, things I never wanted.

"Ya checking me out sweetcheeks?"

Unable to contain the emotion, unable to contain the sickness, the hatred for the dream/nightmare, I puked.

It came out fast and seemed to shock G just as much as it shocked me.

"Whoa-! what the hell?!" G yelled quickly standing out of range from where my puke hit, which was between the two beds that used to be perfect.

Jumping out of the way, G rushed to the bathroom and I collapsed to the floor, tears filling my eyes while the emotion forced it's way through my throat and out my mouth, making me feel weak and even more sick with myself.

Weak.

Oh so weak.

I could feel it tremble my body, and I felt it as it shot out of me with the sick feelings I never wanted.

How long would these feelings last?

At the time, it felt like forever.

They would stay with me forever until G is gone or until I died.

Either one felt like a good option, and I wondered how much faster it would be if I died.

Puke came once more, and G was there with me this time, seeming to care about someone other then himself for once, which shocked me.

Especially when he put a towel over the puke, and watched as I continued to puke on it. 

The sick nausea seemed to be leaving and being replaced with weakness.

Either one felt bad, and tears forced their way out my eyes, falling rarely as I trembled.

Then I felt G's hand be placed on my back.

This caused me to tense up and puke more as the weakness broke through my tense muscles.

Unlike the dream, it wasn't gentle or kind, it was firm and forceful, as if the only reason he was doing this was so we could move on.

He really was doing it just for himself.

He did everything just for himself.

Remembering this, the sickness began to leave, and I continued to tell me how sick G was, how awful and selfish.

'Revenge,' I had decided out of my own selfish want, 'He is so full of revenge that he can't and wont care for anyone else but himself.'

Believing it, I felt the feelings leave me, and I let myself be weak on the floor, the smell of puke ruining the perfect little room that had made me feel so happy the night before.

Now it made me feel as if my whole life and thoughts were lying to me.

After I was cleaned up, (G took me to the bathroom, shut the door, and left me in weakness to take care of myself) I walked out to find the puke mostly clean.

Though the smell and feeling still lingered.

That didn't stop me from looking straight at G, my hair wet again and my arms trembling with the weakness that stiffened my blood.

Forcing myself to think of G as a selfish asshole, I could fee the feelings, the sweet dream leave me and turn the image into a nightmare.

A sick, twisted, selfish nightmare I never wanted again.

My conflict with the dreams seemed to fight with my feelings, banging my head until I felt more weakness wash me like a wave.

G.

I blamed G more then myself, and I knew that was wrong.

It was my own mind who had made the nightmare/dream in the first place.

But at the time, my mind was unsteady, and did what it wanted.

At least it kept me from the thought I might possibly like G.

IMPOSSIBLE.

The word was bold, strong, and seemed to brand my mind.

Never will I ever like G.

Never will I ever be friends with G.

The thought felt true, especially when G scoffed and mumbled, "Weak" under his breath before walking out of the room.

Feeling the sickness leave me, I followed him out.

Yet my head was full of the question:

"Sweet dream? Or nightmare?"

******

A/N: IMPORTANT THINGS WERE GOING ON I'M SORRY!

I HAVE A LIFE I KNOW IT'S WEIRD.

BUT I WILL NEVER GIVE UP!!!

NEVERRRRRRRR!

I'm alive.

Yay.

Disappointment to some of you I know.

But I hope you guys liked the chappie!

DOES FRISKY HAVE FEELINGS FOR G IDEKKKKKKKKKK.

Next chappie is gonna be intense.

A-

That's all I'm spoiling so I hope ya like it.

WELP.

IF YA HAVE ANY QUESTIONS DON'T HESITATE TO ASK!

THANK YOU ALL!

I LOVE YA!

BYE!