#daviscash

Dallas was a mess. One gigantic and complicated mess. After the nightmare that overtook his nap, he had felt sick, both emotionally and physically. The dreamer just sighed as he found himself rubbing at his raw wrists through the dark blue jumper he had put on to hide them. He inhaled and exhaled sharply before avoiding everyone. Which was strange, seeing as usually he'd greet everyone good morning. At breakfast, he should have been hungry seeing as he puked his dinner, but he simply picked at his Nutella sandwich before shoving it away as he ignored the concerned looks of the staff. Darren’s words were echoing in his brain like a bad pop song but not nearly as catchy: "Nobody cares about you". He knew he shouldn’t think like that. He wasn’t the most optimistic person there was, but he definitely wasn’t that pessimistic. He sighed as he rubbed at his eyes, tiredly. The nap had done nothing except exhaust him more. Today he didn’t have anything planned as per usual, other than to write and sing again. But he wasn’t nearly as surprised as he should have been when he found himself down the familiar winding hallway of rooms. He walked up to the familiar door as he knocked gently. “H… H-Hey, um, D-Davis?” He called softly, still knocking. “C-Can I talk to you about something? It’s… It’s k-kinda important.” He found himself unconsciously gnawing at his bottom lip, fidgeting his hands and wrists.