"Hey, hey! Wait, we can talk about this!"

Fresh skidded to Dream's side, his hands raised halfway. "Wait! Please." Fresh slid in front of the door, blocking Dream's way. Dream was in tears, scowling. "What?" He knew fresh was using him. "Look," Fresh started breathlessly, his shades in a panic. "I get that you don't wanna be around me right now, but-- I promise, I'll clean up! I'll uh- I'll drop Neo off at school even!"

Dream looked at fresh in disbelief, which of course didn't last long before he felt himself lash out in anger."You--" He inhaled silently. "Of course, now of all times you'd choose to actually care about our own child! I'm fucking done with you-! " He choked on his own tears, "And I'm taking Neon with me!" He scrunched up his nose, thinking about what he'd shouted before shoving Fresh out of the way, slamming the door behind him.

Fresh had failed, Dream was gone. He hadn't meant for it really, he really believed he'd loved Dream. And now, because of his ignorance, he'd lost his child as well. I mean, it wasn't like he did very good at raising children besides telling them not to take drugs, but he could learn, couldn't he?

.::.

Dream stormed into his car, already packed with his and Neon's things. They'd been arguing like this more often in the past few weeks, and Dream was past being annoyed.

Once he'd heard the door click shut, he'd felt as if his entire life had just fallen apart. He cried, cried until he thought he could barely breathe, as if he had a need for air. He even blamed himself partially, for not correcting Fresh when it'd started. He'd successfully torn his family that they'd created, apart. And he was angry about it, even. He almost wished that he'd never started it, never asked to have a family, to which Fresh had happily obliged.

He was worried. What would he tell Neon? He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

....

Fresh didn't deserve a goodbye. Neon did, though, and it would hurt that he couldn't give that to him. He couldn't go back for a while, he knew that. Otherwise, Fresh would've found another way to bring him back. He knew he had his way with words, despite how stupid he acted. He was a hopeless romantic, really.

But he did nothing. He hadn't even taken part in his own son who'd learned to write. It was sad, almost.

Help. He needed help. Help, and support - someone to help him take care of neo, and a place to stay. He knew who to call, Ghostbusters --and it was Ink. He took out his phone, his hand trembling as he tried to steady his voice, dialing Ink's number and waiting for a response.

And surely, Ink answered. "Yeallo?" whatever Ink said was incoherent, some form of 'yeah' and 'hello', combined. Not that Dream would care or notice, either way. It was just Ink. "Hey, uhm.." He took an unsteady breath, wiping his eyes onto his sleeves. Yeah, he was wearing a sweater; not everyone can wear the same thing every day like fresh did.

"I-I might need your help," Dream explained.

.::.

Yaaaaaaaay. I'm writing again.

But seriously, I'm reading 'Flowey is not a good life coach' and it's actually really good, like you guys should read it it's really fucking good

Oh yeah, I forgot. I need book title ideas and stuff. and I'm sorry for abandoning everything else I've written lmfao