dnf oneshot TW: cutting and sad dream. i also challenge everyone to do this same challenge >:D

He doesn't love me.

He won't tell me he loves me.
Waste of time.
You always get your hopes up.

Clay stared at the ceiling of his room, unable to fall asleep. The clock beside him read 2:24 am.

Why would he love me? I didn't do anything to deserve him.

"George, tell me you love me! I love you," he whined. George giggled through his headset, muttering a small 'nooo'.
A bunch of donations tried to make him say 'I love you,' but he still refused.

"Don't worry, Dream, I love you," Bad, who was also in the call, responded. Of course it was Bad who said it; he loves everyone.

Clay rolled over in bed, trying to calm his racing heart. His heart that he considered to be sweet and loving, turning bitter. Bitter over someone not reciprocating his love. Maybe it was George who was bitter, maybe he hated him. But in reality, Clay knew it was his fault for falling for someone who only wanted to be friends. Maybe he didn't even want to be friends.

He sighed, tracing his finger along a few scars on his wrists, irritating them. Picking at the scabs only led to more pain, more relief. The feeling that he deserved this. A horrible friend, that's what he was, for forcing George to love someone he didn't.

You deserve this. Change your heart. He knows you as a friend. Deep down, he knew that he shouldn't give into this voice, and Bad would yell at him if he found out. Bless him, the angel. But fear has a way of holding onto someone. Or maybe he was too scared to believe the lies that people told him. That there were plenty of fish in the sea.

You could feel the scars, small, but noticeable. Perhaps that's why Clay wore a hoodie all the time. One, two, three, four.

Why did he have to become a youtuber? He wouldn't, if he knew the effect that those he met would have on him.
A different job would've done better for him. But money couldn't buy back the love that he felt, nor the heartbreak he's feeling.

He didn't even notice his feet taking him to the bathroom, out of his control, until he saw the absolute wreck of a person in front of him.
Bags under his eyes, that was normal, same with the messy hair, but dried tears streaked down his face and his shirt was lopsided, revealing one shoulder more than the other.

All people do is break your heart, the voice whispered. It wasn't even true, not at all, but he believed it. Why? Because it was the only thing to understand what was going on.

Why did he go to the bathroom? He couldn't remember. Everything seemed foggy, maybe because of how early it was or maybe because there were new tears flooding his face.

In the kitchen, he opened one of the drawers, pulling out one of the smaller blades.

No need to make a big deal out of it, right? One, two, three, four, five, six, nine or ten, just more scars to tend to later.

His phone dinged from his bedroom, George messaging him if he was awake. Oh, it's eight for him. Right.

He hopped on his computer, opening up discord and getting in the same call as his best friend. I can still call him that, right?

"Hey, Dream, I hope I didn't wake you."

"Oh, no, don't worry, I'm fine." Minecraft slowly opening. Recording set-up working. "Let's record?"

No need to make a big deal out of any of it.

well then. this can also be a challenge to anyone who reads this: find a happy song and give it a dark meaning or smth like that

i really gotta pace myself when i publish these but whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯