It hurt.
Everything hurt.
Missing someone you have never known outside your dreams was something Day knew all too well.
In the realms of that reality, he is happy and carefree; he is loved and cherished.
His life is young, and despite the edges grazed with fear, there is still the childlike wonder and freedom he has never known in his waking world.
In there, he is held and loved by this other boy, whom he can still feel with his whole body.
Nothing hurts more than realizing your reality isn't real at all, breaking when you open your eyes and are faced with the bleak life you were escaping to begin with.
Day rubs his chest, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his sobs to die down, his heart to stop aching so much like it has lost the biggest part of him, to stop mourning the loss of a loved one that never existed in the first place.
This is the first time he has dreamt of this.
Normally, the dreams are loosely based on the faceless boy, showing a younger self, but he never allowed himself to think much of it. It still felt painful, leaving him feeling dejected days after.
But this one, this one felt closer. They were older too and …
It hurt.
The bedroom is silent, save for his quiet sobs, as he tries not to drown in the misery that seems to cling to every fiber of his being, until a sharp ringing sound cuts through the air. He raises his puffy, red face towards his bedside and looks at the phone there.
Day tries to ignore the state of his room, too, as he slowly reaches for it and accepts the call.
"h-hello?"
"There he is."
Marcus. Day sighs heavily, lying back in the pillows as he closes his eyes, wanting nothing but to lie down and wallow in peace.
"Done ignoring me?"
"I am not ignoring you."
"Yes, Dean reached out to me to ask about you, and that's when I knew it wasn't about me. I always thought that when you would decide to cut class, you would tell me so that we can be bad together."
"I …" what? He has been avoiding going to school because he felt utterly betrayed, and just the thought of his existence being one of the humored child until the inevitable happens makes him want to throw a fit like the spoiled child he is, and then break down in tears.
Should he really tell him that?
"You know I haven't been feeling all good after the last episode. I wanted to stay indoors and recoup."
"Are you sick again?"
"No," Day shakes his head, face pale, eyes still closed. "Just tired is all. But I feel better now." If anything, he feels even worse for wear than he was three days ago.
"Your course is already hard without you cutting classes, babe. And I know that this isn't you. Are you sure you aren't avoiding me?"
"No, Marcus. I am not avoiding you."
"Good, because I am right outside your apartment."
"What?!"
"Yes," Marcus chuckles. "So get ready, or I am coming up, and we will cut class together."
Day is already on his feet, walking to his windows and pushing the curtains aside to look. Sure enough, the sleek green Porsche is parked right outside, and Marcus waves a little.
"Should I come up?"
"Let me get ready, I will be down in fifteen."
Marcus hangs up, and Day sighs, flopping on the windowsill, feeling extremely tired.
There goes his fourth day of cutting class. He had planned to sleep in, like he had done the past three days, eat, and then read some of the books he had bought, and then sleep some more.
It wasn't the best plan, but it was all he could come up with, and being alone seemed the best thing. To wallow and cry in the comfort of his own bed.
He makes a call to one of the housekeepers he has in the city to come and clean up now that he has broken his hibernation after getting showered and dressed in his comfortable school-appropriate attire.
Loose jeans, a simple white shirt, and loafers. Simple and comfortable.
His eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, and no amount of makeup can hide that. Still, he dabs a little concealer, pushing his bangs over his eyes too to try to hide as much as he can, and then applies a red-tinted lip gloss to give him color to his sickly pale face.
Taking one of the sunglasses, he puts it on, grabs his bag, and heads out.
Marcus is talking on the phone, leaning on the car, and when he sees Day, he hangs up and watches him approach.
"That was more than fifteen minutes."
"Sorry, it took longer than expected."
"You okay, babe?" he pulls him in for a hug, and everything in Day wants to flinch and put distance between them. He doesn't want to be touched or even be close to anyone right now.
He is still extremely low, and Marcus notices his gloomy mood immediately. "What's up with you?"
"I am fine; can we please go?"
He doesn't say anything but continues to study him, and Day really, truly wants to put on his charming persona, but he has nothing in him. he is bone dry.
"Sure," Marcus finally opens the car door for him, and Day slides in, putting his bag on his lap and adjusting his sunglasses as Marcus sits in the driver's seat. "You need a better excuse next time."
"What?"
"Your parents called me and asked me why you weren't taking their calls. They said that you told them you were studying for an exam, one that I know you failed, and then continued to hide yourself in your apartment for three days. Next time, you need a better excuse, or otherwise, even my excuses won't cut it, and they will come down here."
"Okay."
"It's just exams. I don't see the big deal with why you would react this way. It was your first exam. What will you do when you fail your entire grade?" Marcus chuckles, as if he has told the funniest joke.
"I don't know," day mumbles, looking out, sinking further in his seat.
"You have also been avoiding me. We haven't been together once since you came here. One would say, you used me as a decoy to get away from your parents, and now you want nothing to do with me."
Day can feel a tension headache coming on.
"We are engaged, Day. I want to spend more time with you, touch you, and kiss you. I mean, we must be the only couple to have existed who don't even spend five minutes together alone, unless I am playing your chauffeur."
"Marcus-"
"I honestly feel like you don't like me. I mean, when you were back home, you did act cold and reserved, but since you came here, you flinch whenever I touch you, act revolted even in front of my friends when I try kissing you. It's not promising at all."
Marcus is worked up. Frustrated. Giving valid statements.
But Day is so, so tired and so, so sad. He still feels so hollow that he can't even begin to try to salvage and appease his intended.
Perhaps he will look back on this moment in the future and wonder if he could have done something about it. Something different.
"I am not- I don't flinch," Day tries to say, but Marcus is gripping the wheel too tightly, speeding so fast, and he thinks at the back of his mind that perhaps he should be concerned.
Only, he can't feel a thing outside the sadness he is drowning in.