Archive of Our Own ^beta

“George, wake up!”

The brunette stirs in his sleep, pulling the sheets close to his shoulders. Incoherent mumbles slip past his lips. “Go away,” he manages to blurt out.

An abrupt hand shakes him on the shoulder, and that same warm and familiar voice says his name again. And again. The owner of this voice clearly paid no attention to George’s weak plea, much to the brunettes dismay.

Despite the difficulty, George manages to open an eye. His voice is croaky from hours of un-use, sandy and scratchy --“I’m sleeping, Dream. What could you possibly want?”

It’s the smile Georges eyes catches on first. It’s his smile (white teeth, dimples) and then its his eyes (emerald green, full of life, maybe a tad too much life In this sickening hour of what might be five in the fucking morning, though) and then suddenly George doesn’t even need to think of getting up because Dreams hands (bigger than his) are pulling him into the taller’s sphere of warmth, giving him no time to think. 

With a groan of disproval, George is up on his feet within short seconds. He doesn’t have any fight left in him to resist the pull. The world tilts for a brief moment until Dreams hands find its way to Georges waist to steady him. Head nuzzled against his solid shoulder, George mumbles out “I’m so sleepy.”

Dream whispers excitedly, “But its shooting stars! They’re everywhere!”

George lets Dream drag him outside.

They slip past the unfinished fence that surrounds their house. “We should really get that done,” George thinks aloud.

“Yeah, tomorrow”

George tilts his head to the side. “Where’s Sapnap?”

“I don’t wanna wake him up, he did most of the work yesterday.”

“Oh, so you don’t think I did work?”

“You sabotaged our materials so Sapnap and I gathered new materials for the house. Be glad we didn’t leave you in the forest, idiot.”

“Whatever.” A small smile tugs his lips.  

They’re outside, fireflies lighting up the friendly darkness that beckons them to come. One firefly lands on the tip of George’s nose. Dream blows on it, and it flies away along with its soft yellow light. George wrinkles his nose and he can practically feel Dreams lingering gaze on his temples. Its a nice feeling, honestly, to know that you’re not alone even if you sometimes want to be.

The fireflies could honestly be stars themselves, little pinpricks of light floating above their heads. They looked like magic.

“Okay, where’re the shooting stars?” He asks.

They’re looking up now, and George realizes Dream never did let go of his hand. He doesn’t comment on it. Unconsciously, he squeezes a little. Dream squeezes back, and its normal and its just them with their silent communication none of their other friends would understand.

Dream’s eyes scan the skies. “I swear, they were everywhere.”

George meets Dreams gaze. The firefly lights casts reflections on his freckled, perfect face, and George thinks he’s been here before.

He lets go of Dreams hand to trace his cheek. Because he can. Because he has it in him.

The brunette softly says.  “We can just look for shooting stars tomorrow, y’know. The stars will always be there.”

Suddenly, Dream tugs them down to the grass and pats the space beside him. “Okay, fine, but join me. I’m sure we’ll see at least one.”

They lie down on the dewy grass together.

Beside Dream, George observes, “You’re so clingy sometimes.”

Dream laughs in response to that, and George rests his head on his chest to listen to that soft and familiar rumble.

“You love it.”

George purses his lips. “I do.” After a heartbeat, he adds “I kinda hate how I do.”

Dream tuts.

“Well, you shouldn’t. I think it’s cute.”

He rolls his eyes and murmurs, “Of course you think it’s cute.” Of course he does.

He pinches his cheek while George swats it away petulantly. Dream laughs, and George feels that same gentle chest rumble against his ears. He loves it like how a kid loves to hear the sound of the ocean inside the hallow inside of a seashell. It’s a sound that’ll never get old, a sound that’ll remind him of more simple, innocent things.

George knows this feeling of wet, spikey grass poking his skin. He knows the shiver that crawls up his arms, and the warm embrace Dream pulls him into, sickeningly sweet just how they both like it. He knows this feeling in his chest, this all-encompassing feeling that threatens to swallow him whole, this feeling that burns like a forest fire and shouts Dreams name like a lifeline.

He knows this feeling all too well.

Oh. Of course.

His stomach drops. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” He whispers the words into the night like a shameful secret.

Dream hums. He places one hand on George’s chocolate brown hair and smooths out his curls. He lets him. He’d enjoy his touch more if he wasn’t so aware of the circumstances of why they’re here. Why he’s here.

“Yes, you are.”

George can only sigh. Nuzzles his cheek deeper into the safety of Dreams chest because that seems like the only thing he can do, really.

They stay quiet for a moment. There’s still no shooting stars, only stars that stay still and stagnant, watching the two boys from above like they were waiting for something to happen.

George just wants to see at least one damn star fall. Just one. He knows it never does, though.

“This already happened before.”

“Yes, it has.”

Still no shooting star.

“There were no shooting stars. You just wanted to wake me up so you can lay down on the grass with me, like this.”

He wants to grimace at the words, but finds that he doesn’t have it in himself to react anymore.

Dreams hand travels down where he traces shapes on Georges arm. He feels him trace a heart. Later, he’ll trace a smiley face, and then a star.

He continues, “We had our first kiss here. On the grass. In the next morning, you’ll tell Sapnap that you found a boyfriend, and Sapnap will say that you only know two people here. Then you’ll say he’s an idiot and then you’ll kiss me on the breakfast table in front of him. That’ll be our second kiss.”

Dream traces a smiley face.

“How long have you been in this memory?” Dream asks.

“Too much. Too long.”

You need to wake up. It’s his own voice, calling to him, trying to grasp him back to reality. Desperate. This voice knows what’s good for itself.

In a strained, almost choked up voice, George asks, “Why does this keep happening to me?” The question isn’t for Dream, not necessarily. It’s a question in general, a question to the stars, the fireflies, even to the night.

Perhaps it’s more so a question to himself. Why does he allow himself to slip past reality so easily? God, since when has he become so easy?

Dream traces a star.

The fireflies loses its light. The night sky loses its darkness. It happens slowly, yet all at once, and George had lost interest in trying to make sense of his dreamscape a long time ago.

“I think you know why.”

and Dreams hands, those disappear too -- turning into nothing but the thin air that threatens to push George down to gravity’s laws.

Suddenly, George feels the cold air like a slap on the face, and he’s drifting in oblivion, holding empty space he could have sworn was occupied by a boy he loves.

I think you know why.He wakes up with a gasp.

~

This time the grass he wakes up to is filled to the brim with flowers. Lilacs, peonies and poppies alike, nestled in the tiny crevices of the forest, its vibrancy and saturation almost too happy. If you look hard enough you’d spot a few brown and red mushrooms. This time the world George wakes up to is the real one and it’s too bright on his eyes, and the grass where Dreams supposed to lay beside him is just that. Just grass, not even a bed of his shape.

There’s something so unfair about that.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath. There’s a throbbing in his temples, and he tries to rub it away to no success.

He’s forgetting something. He’s always forgetting something, and it doesn’t help that the only thing that he remembers after dream hopping is that he’s forgetting something. He can already feel the guilt crawl up his chest like a dark fatality.

In an effort to remember at least a tiny bit, he squints his eyes and tries to focus, knees against his chest, head on his hands.

Come on, come on, what is it that I’m forgetting?

He opens his eyes with a heavy sigh. Rests his chin on his forearms.

Goddammit.

His eyes catch on a small red mushroom beside him. Then suddenly –

“Kinoko kingdom!”

He rushes to his feet and runs to Sapnap and Karl, who’ve both been waiting for him for what George can only hope is just a few hours and not an entire morning.

He’s too in a hurry to see the dark shadow that watches him behind the trees.

~

Sapnap and Karl are outside their house in Kinoko Kindom. Sapnap leans against the threshold while Karl talks to him on the other side, both their faces shadowy and serious.

George can’t quite make out what they’re saying, and he finds that he doesn’t want to know. Chances are that the conversation was about him.

“Karl! Sapnap!”

His voice startles them to surprise.

George runs towards them, chest heaving and knees aching. He takes a moment to catch his breath. Once he’s got enough air in his lungs, he breathes out “I’m so so sorry I’m late. Where’s everyone?”

He looks around him. Kinoko Kingdom is deserted, save for the three of them of course.

Was Kinoko Kingdom always this…big? It’s definitely gotten bigger, more buildings and statues have seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“You missed it.” Karl says, voice flat.

George looks to the both of them.

Apologies die in his tongue when he sees the look of disappointment in their eyes. Their frowns catch on to his skin, little frowning hooks.

“Where the hell were you?” He knows Sapnap has a temper, and he knows that he has this habit of raising his voice sometimes. But it was always good natured, always for the laughs.

No one’s laughing this time. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, George, we knew you were gonna be late. But a whole day? Really?”

Oh fuck.

“If there’s any way I can make it up—”

“You do realize you’ve missed out on practically everything! We barely even see you anymore! I swear to god, sometimes I have to even remind myself of what you look like!”

He didn’t know when Sapnap left his place in the threshold, but he’s standing in front of George now, arms crossed and eyebrows scrunched up in annoyance. “Well? Go on. What excuse is it this time?”

Before George can open his mouth, Karl intervenes. “Sap. It’s fine, just leave it. What matters is that George is fine.”

Karl sends George a small smile, and the gesture, however insignificant in the grand scheme of things, means everything to him. Still, though. It doesn’t stop his heart from crumbling. What can he do but let it all happen to him? He deserves this, anyway. Sapnap and Karl have the right to react this way.

They start to tell him that its getting late out and they needed to be somewhere else.

When Karl walks past him, he gives him a small pat on the back, though short-lived. He walks ahead of Sapnap while Georges got his back faced to them, arms crossed. He’s still taking Kinoko Kingdom all in, if he’s being honest. Yes, it’s definitely gotten bigger. Has he really missed that much? He supposes he has, there’s no other explanation.

He can feel Sapnaps eyes glued to his neck, almost like he wants to say something more, but decided to leave with words unsaid. The footsteps seem to fade slowly as George’s best friends move further and further away.

George doesn’t really have it in him to tell them to stay.

I’m so scared. He should have said. I’ve been so scared.

 But the crippling guilt crawled up to his throat, blocking any sounds he could have made. A plea for help, a shout or even a whisper of the words he so badly needed to say for his own mental wellbeing, all stifled out of him. The worst part is that he’s got no one to blame but himself.

Cold air goes through his skin, an unfriendly reminder that he’s become translucent.

In the months he’s spent isolating himself from everyone to indulge in his dreamscapes, he’s discovered that being alone has its ways of creeping into his chest and laying there until it throbs and hurts and aches like an unbearable, spreading burn.

Fat tears trail down his cheeks and plop down to his feet like rotten plums. He doesn’t know when it’s gotten this bad.

He should have called out and say to them I don’t want to be scared anymore.

~

When he gets to his mushroom cottage he sees the familiar god, waiting for him on the doorstep.

“George,” The god says in greeting. “What happened? You look quite upset.”

He stifles down a tempting scoff. Unlocking his door, he goes inside the mostly vacant shell of his house and lets Dream XD follow him. There’s no use in telling him not to enter. Infuriatingly enough, gods always get their way. Nothing George can do about that.

“What makes you say that?” he goes straight to the kitchen where he can keep his hands busy. He’s not hungry, but he does need a good distraction, something to get his body moving and his mind active. It reminds him he still has some little control over his life. It reminds him he can still command his limbs to do what he wants them to do. Mundane tasks help the most, because its oh so normal.

Like always, Dream XD follows him to where he washes his hands in the sink, ridding his palms of invisible dirt.  He observes “You look tired. Weary almost, like somethings been weighing you down, stealing your happiness away.”

George does not make eye contact with the god. He turns off the faucet.

“I don’t like seeing you like that.” He continues, persistent to get a response out of the boy.

George grabs a hand towel to wipe his hands in. “Yeah, well. I don’t like feeling like this.” Sapnap and Karl’s frowns flash before him briefly. He shuts his eyes to wipe that memory away. But I deserve it. This, he does not say.

They say nothing for a while.

George braces himself for what the god is about to say next.

“I can send you dream hopping again if you’d like. That always seems to lighten up your mood.”

George drops the towel on the counter. Rests his palms against the cold surface. The gods words are both relief and dread, mixed together like a sharp and dangerous alcoholic beverage.

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? Every time I send you dream hopping, you seem to be…lighter. You seem to be happier. Id much prefer it if you were that way. I don’t like it when you’re like this.” The god gestures to him. “All grey and quiet. It does not amuse me one bit.”

A heavy sigh. Three heartbeats pass. This time, George faces the god.

“I don’t exist for your amusement, you know?”

The gods voice drop octaves lower. “Oh, don’t be like that, George –”

“And I want you to stop. I need you to stop the dream hops. Its…I can’t do it anymore.”

With this, the god seems to falter. That’s a first. Slowly, he asks “What do you mean? Don’t you like your happy memories? Do they bore you now?”

“Of course not, it’s not that, its –”

Sapnap and Karl’s face flash in his mind’s eye again. their frowns too real, too painful. Sapnaps words, left unsaid. Kinoko Kingdom, vast and beautiful and without Georges markings, just a silent reservation for him, a reservation long overdue while hopeful and expecting faces turned disappointed.

“it’s selfish.”

Dream XD chooses not ask any questions after that.

~

The next time he sees Sapnap and Karl, they’re seated on the edge of the big fountain that makes the epicenter of Kinoko Kingdom. Karl’s hands slowly trail the gentle cerulean waves of the water while Sapnap talks amiably.

They both stop when they see George walking towards them. Sapnap stands up.

“I thought I’d find you guys here,” says George, opting for a small smile. “Okay. Listen.”

He takes a deep breath. Prepares himself.

“I know I haven’t been present lately. And well.” He forces himself to look at his friends in the eyes. They deserve that from him. “I want to apologize for that. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been behaving. It’s not fair to you. We go through the same experience, the same situation, yet here I am being…the way I am.” This applies more to Sapnap. He knows what George is pertaining to. Rather, who he’s pertaining to.

Dream was his friend too.

 The raven haired man shifts his footing.

“I’m here now, though. I’ll try to be more…here. More present. I want to be that person. It’s long overdue, I know.”

The constricting pain in his chest threatens to eat him whole, afraid of what his friends will say next. What they’ll do. Will it be words of indifference? Will it be more of that disappointed frown?

Have they given up on him?

He exhales. It barely alleviates the pain in his chest, though. His voice is a small birdlike thing. “Are we okay?”

To his surprise, Sapnap crosses the little distance between them to collect the brunette in his arms, engulfing him in the warm embrace he so desperately needs. “Oh!” George yelps in confusion.

When was the last time someone hugged me like this?  he thinks, and the ache in his chest throbs a little more.

“Yes, we’re okay, George.” Sapnap says into his ear, and it takes everything in George not to cry at the uttered words, plain yet so, so brilliant in its simplicity. George holds him tighter, if that were even possible. He holds his best friend like he’s the last good thing in this world. Well. That’s because he is, isn’t he?

“We’ll be okay, George. I promise you that.”  

George squeezes his eyes shut and forces down the words.

The crunch of foot soles on dewy grass approaches them, then suddenly – “Hey, let me join in on this!”

Karl’s voice, equally as amiable and bright as Sapnaps. All three of them laugh, George gesturing for Karl to join them. He does, and for the first time in an unfairly long time, they’re all there in one place, smiling and laughing and completely shrouded in pretty promises. For now, it’s enough. For now, they’re perfectly okay.

“Welcome back, buddy.” Karl says. After they’ve let go of each other, Karl gives him a pat on the back, much like the one last time. “We really missed you.”

George smiles. “I missed you guys too.”

This is the part where things get better, thinks George. This is the part where I try to do everything right. And oh god is it a beautiful vision.

They talk of useless things like friends often do, and George feels contented for once. With them, he doesn’t have to worry about ominous gods, mind twisting dreams and the haunting memories of the past. With them, he feels like he can be a person again.

They’re careful not to mention Dream to the brunette. His name is splattered across white marbled floor in the shape of miniscule glass shards. Side step here, side step there. They don’t want to talk about him because of what he did. They don’t know that the Dream in his head wouldn’t even think of those things, much less become the catalyst to it.

For the sake of keeping things civil, George participates in their little game, his defends on Dream buried deep down in his throat.

It inevitably gets late. Dawn cracks open richly and the night washes over the afternoon sky like wine. Karl says he’s got something to attend to in his library, so he abruptly stands from the fountain ledge and says his goodbyes. “And George, when are we going to see you again?”

“Same time tomorrow.” He says with a confident smile. He made a promise, so it’s only right that he should keep it. After all, he’s been more himself around his friends, he can’t just throw that away. He’s been more George.  Whenever he dream hops, more and more of his identity seems to slip away from his hands, and getting a taste of what it feels like being George again is like tasting a favorite childhood treat after so many years.

“What if I lose myself?” Dream XD knelt down in front of him and gently brushed a few strands of brown curls away. He rested his palm on his cheek almost lovingly.

He said it softly, like he was coercing a frightened animal. “Maybe it’s a good thing to lose yourself.”

George stepped away from the gods touch like it burned him. “You’re insane. This is insane.”

“Do you not want to see him again?”

He hesitated. Defeated, his shoulders slumped form the tension as he whispered, “I didn’t say that.”

George mentally swats away that memory. Karl says, “Alright. Same time tomorrow then. See ya!” And then just like that, Karl is off.

Sapnap turns to George. “How bout you? You heading off too?”

“Yeah, I’m getting a little hungry. I still need to prepare dinner.”

“Alright then.” He stands. Stretches his arms out. George stands from the fountains ledge as well, saying the pleasantry goodbyes and doing the pleasantry wave of hands.  

The way home isn’t a long journey, but it isn’t a short one either. The wooden path stretches before him, and if he wasn’t so familiar with it, he would have thought it went on forever.

It’s when George steps over a few rocks and steadies himself that he sees him. He thought it might be someone else at first, but upon further inspection, he notices it.

No, there’s no denying it. The white mask. The smiley face. Unkept dirty blonde hair.

Georges insides freeze up. His feet feel rooted to the wooden ground. The air around him tenses up, and its viscous enough to choke on.

From the darkest parts of the nights shadows, away from the light that lightens the wooden path, Dream raises a hand as if to greet the shocked brunette.

George does not register anything. He feels him shudder out a breath more than he’s aware of it happening, and he’s about to raise up his own hand in greeting when suddenly a hand grabs him on the shoulder and –

“George!”

He shouts in surprise, turning around to see Sapnap.

The air around him seems to ease. “Sapnap! What are you doing here?”

“Karl said I wasn’t allowed in the library, so I got bored and now I’m walking you home like the good friend that I am. You can say thank you, by the way.”

George rubs the back of his neck. Hesitantly, he looks behind him to see if Dream is still there in the shadows. All he finds are this: the shadows.

“Why? Something there?” Sapnap cranes his neck to look for something that might have caught his friends eye.

“No, no. It’s nothing. I thought I saw someone.”

They make the journey to George’s house without ever mentioning it again. He offers Sapnap to stay for dinner, but he refuses, saying he’s been looking forward to eat dinner with Karl. He doesn’t know why he’s a little relieved when Sapnap declines his offer. It could be that he feels a sort of unease with the prospect of Sapnap and Dream XD meeting if they were to bump into each other in his house. It’s not like the god is someone to be frightened of. Right?  

They arrive to George’s doorstep safely.

“Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.”

Sapnap smiles amiably. “Of course. Anytime dude.” He buries his hands on his pockets, looking at their surroundings, left and right. Though really, all there are to see are the dark outlines of trees and such, wilting flowers and stars that never answer George’s wishes. Sapnap does not move an inch away from where he’s standing.

George knows his friend enough to notice that somethings bothering him. He lets out a quiet sigh. Before fiddling with the lock on his door, he turns back to Sapnap and asks him “What’s the matter, Sap?”

Sapnap looks to George, and there’s something about the way his eyes glaze over George’s amber ones that might look almost apologetic. His voice is gentle and it drips with concern. “You know I’ll always be there for you, right?”

He doesn’t know what prompted his best friend to tell him that, though it still does its job to be comforting despite the guilt etching itself unto George again. His own conscience whispers vehemently against his ear, and it tastes like poison and sounds a lot like the truth. You know he doesn’t have to say these things to you if you’d just get a grip, right? You’re scaring him.

He’s scaring him.

He pushes past it. Tries to. Hiding it behind a smile seems the easiest thing to do. “I know that, silly. I’ll always be there for you too.”

Sapnap does not smile back. He avoids eye contact with him, finding the ground far more interesting. “Okay, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, and its cruel of me to compare our situations, but I understand to some extent, George.”

George lets the words settle inside him like sediment.

Sapnap goes on, this time with the courage to look at him in the eyes, and there’s an unmistakable look of fight there that George holds on to. Sapnaps always been the bravest one out of the three.

“And I know it hurts. I know it isn’t fair. Trust me, I know what’s it like to want things to be simple again, but he’s not coming back.”

He does not miss the way Sapnap tiptoes around his name. Just say his name, he wants to spit the words out. Say his name, say his name, say his name.

“He’s gone, George.”

He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone. No, that doesn’t sound right. Even rotating the words around his head seems off, so factually incorrect he wants to swat the words away like flies.

“You don’t know that.” He hears himself saying. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest defensively now.

He can’t read Sapnap’s face anymore. “I visited him. In the prison. I talked to him.”

Suddenly, George’s world holds its breath. He goes still. He goes quiet.

And oh god that guilt again, gripping George’s heart like a mad lover. It’s so hard to breathe. It’s so hard to keep wearing this bag of skin, he wants so badly to just rip it all off him and discard it away. Sapnap visited Dream.

Because of course he did. After all, he’s the bravest one out of the three of them.

“He talked…different. He’s changed, George, please look at me. He’s not who we was back then, and he never will be, you understand?” Sapnap sighs. “We have to move on.”

We have to move on.

That’s what he’s trying to do, isn’t he? He could still move on and hold onto the happy memories. That’s still possible. He could move on, he could do it.

“I know.” His voice is diminished to small sounds. “Don’t worry, I know. And I’m trying, I promise I really am.” And this sounds true, this sounds as genuine as it can get.

Sapnap finally seems to loosen up. He smiles at him. “I’m really glad to hear that then.”

George tries to smile back. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”

“I’m good. Karl’s waiting for me.”

“Better go on then.”

But as Sapnap waves goodbye for the nth time this night and turns on his heel, a question springs up in the dark depths of his mind, a question that he needs to have the answer to, less it kill him.

“Wait,”

Sapnap turns around. George musters enough fortitude to open his mouth and ask it. “When you visited Dream,” -- he thinks he sees Sapnap flinch at the name – “did he say anything about me?”

He hates how he sounds hopeful like a small, worried child. He hates how Sapnap looks at him with pity. “No. He didn’t mention you.”

This is the sound of his heart shattering.

“Oh. Okay.”

This is him pursing his lips, trying to stop his bottom lip from trembling.

“See you tomorrow.”

This is him closing the door behind him, locking it.

This is him falling down to his knees, the guilt taking control, the guilt teeming inside of him like black vines, clutching him tightly to its greedy hands, never letting go, never letting him breathe. This is the sound of him crying.

This is George breaking.

~

It’s the next day, and the afternoon birds lazily sing their afternoon song, taking its place among natures elements. It’s a cloudless sky today. More room for the blue to carry.

George is on the flower field, though this time he isn’t sleeping. He isn’t dream hopping. He had to sacrifice seven sleepless hours, and at some point through the night he almost allowed the temptation to swallow him and take him wherever it wants him to be. Every time it gets that bad though, he reminds himself of Sapnap’s kind words, Karl’s comforting touches.

And then he sees their frowns from the day he missed yet another important event. He really thought they’d given up on him. It’s a good thing they’re good people. Yeah, he got lucky there.

That’s how he keeps his promise to be a better person.

So, he’s on the flower field picking up daisies and cornflowers to give to Sapnap and Karl. The air is thick with pollen. George has to fight the urge to doze off and sleep, but other than that, he feels perfectly fine. He feels normal. Maybe if he keep this up, he might even be better than before.

“Are those flowers for me?” Dream XD appears out of nowhere, like he usually does.

George isn’t that startled. He looks down at the flowers in his hands, then back up to the god in front of him. “No, actually. They’re for Sapnap and Karl. If you want flowers you can get them yourself.”

“I want it to be from you.”

George rolls his eyes and goes back to picking out the most vibrant cornflowers. “Okay, whatever. I’ll give you flowers after I visit them.”

Dream XD goes quiet for a few heartbeats, and George finds the silence to be a little tense and awkward.

“You’re visiting them again?”

He gently puts a caterpillar down on the grass to pick up a cornflower. “Yeah, any problem with that?”

“I thought you’d want to go back to your dreams.”

George halts his hand from reaching out to the flower. He stands up from where he’s crouching down and looks to the god. He lets go of an exasperated sigh. “I told you I don’t want to go anymore. Why would you think i’d want to go back?”

The god scoffs, mutters under his breath. but George can’t quite hear what he’s saying. Louder for him to hear, he spits out, “Don’t be daft. I see your eyebags. You look like an absolute mess.”

George feels like an absolute mess, even he has to admit.

He thought he saw Dream outside his window, tapping at the glass last night. Darkness engulfed him then, and it ignited a new sort of fear in George. He might be scared of the dark after that vision.

Tap, tap, tap.

George, why won’t you open the door?

Tap, tap, tap.

What did I do wrong?

He tightly shuts his eyes like that would make the visions cease to exist. He opens them when he thinks its stopped haunting him to see Dream XD looking at him with palpable concern. It almost makes him want to apologize for being so fucked up. And he fucking hates it. That’s all he is to people nowadays, isn’t he? A cause for concern. A porcelain doll with a “handle with care” sticker at the back. No, this makes him more mad than apologetic, really. Yes, it’s easier to be mad.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, voice strained from holding back the sharpness of his voice. He may be emotional today, but he still knows what’s good for him, at least the little part of him does, anyway. Dream XD doesn’t like it when he talks to him in such a cold way. It’s hard for him not to talk like the way he does if he’s being honest. There’s just so much hidden coldness inside him, forming icicles underneath porcelain skin.

The god is unfazed by his quiet anger. Maybe he’s in a good mood.

This short lived thought shatters when he points out, “If you really want to move on, you know what you have to do.”

George can’t help the groan that escapes his lips. Its frustration at himself, frustration at the god before him, maybe also frustration at Karl and Sapnap for still seeing the good in him despite everything. He finds himself crouching down again, this time his hands covering his ears.

He doesn’t try to hide the coldness from his voice anymore when he quietly begs, “Stop it. Don’t say it. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“After all. He’s just waiting for you.” The god starts, and George knows there’s no going back from this. He doesn’t understand how the god had so perfectly mastered the art of being causally cruel. “All alone. How many days has it been, do you think? Well, it’s been months, really. Such a shame. All that time, fruitless. Do you think he’s still waiting for you? I bet he is. He’s wondering where you are right now. He’s wondering If today’s going to be the day. Will it, George? Will today be the day? Well. There’s no use in expecting such things from someone like you now, is there?”

“shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” anger jumps out from his heart and escapes through his mouth, seething hot and red, a sharp contrast to the coldness that breathes inside him.

“Just shut up!’ He runs away from the god, wanting to be far away from his words as possible. He feels the tears fall down his face like tiny crystals as he speeds past the trees, not caring about the twigs and branches that threaten to cut his skin.  He tries to wipe the falling tears away with his forearm, but more and more tears seem to pour out of him, and that’s how George comes to know that in addition to the iciness that numbs his feelings and the hot, fiery anger that festers in his core, there is a pit less well that never gets tired of overspilling tears.

When he’s finally exhausted himself from running, he places a hand on a tree trunk to steady himself and catch his breath.

Slow, even breaths, he tells himself. The gods words won’t find him here. He’s sure of it. Well, he’s as sure as he can get, rather. The god didn’t chase after him, and he’s a little bit surprised by this.

When he looks down at the bouquet clutched tightly in his fist, he notices that the flowers look smaller. Some petals must have blew away from all that running. No matter. They’re just flowers.

Speaking of flowers. George notices his surroundings. Rose bushes surround him, its red vibrancy poking from the dark grass like tiny miracles.

It’s almost beautiful here.

George is about to compose himself enough to head straight to Kinoko Kingdom when –

“Look, George! So much roses everywhere!”

He freezes at the voice.

No, no not again. Please, not again.

Against the better part of himself, he steals a look over his shoulder.

Dream always looked so handsome. Even now, in George’s deranged mind, his hair is the same messy dirty blonde from his happiest memories. He’s clutching flowers on his arms like babies and it makes George’s chest swell in so much want. He wants so deeply, so intensely, it’s so heavy on his shoulders.

The way he needs him is an unbearable loneliness that he carries around him like a cancer. And he feels that loneliness whimper somewhere deep inside him in that pit less well when he sees Dream so happy like this, holding roses despite the thorns because it’s his favorite flower.

With heavy footsteps, he leaves Dream In the rose forest, looking confused as to why he’s leaving him again.

“George?”

This time, George lets himself quietly cry.

He’s moving on now.

~

Sapnap hesitantly takes the bouquet out of George’s hands. George can feel his friends eyes gaze at him from head to toe, like he’s wearing a different bag of skin today. Is he? The concept of reality is rather…loose right now. Maybe he is wearing a different skin today. So what? It’s not like he’d actually believe such an unusual notion. He’d blame the visions and delirium on the treachery of his untrustworthy mind, accept that this is his odd way of processing things, and if he grew wings or wore a different skeleton today, that is only his mind talking, trying to catch up with the present.

This is just how things are with him. This is normal. This is normal because it’s what happens to him all the time, and he’s already so familiar with its customs.

Sapnap furrows his brows in concern. “Dude, you look sick, and I don’t mean that in like, a cool way. You look ill. Have you gotten enough sleep yesterday?”

George thinks it’s an almost laughable question. Has he gotten enough sleep today? He stifles a scoff and manages to lie through his teeth. “I’m fine, it was too hot in my room and I couldn’t sleep with the heat.”

Before overthinking  the believability of the lie, Sapnap just shrugs. “Yeah, same actually.  Weather today sucks.” And just like that, they’re back to being normal people, talking about normal, mundane things, doing what normal people do.

Karl comes out of his library looking lost. When he sees Sapnap and George, it’s like a switch flipped open and he turned all bright and giddy. “George!”

George accepted the hug from Karl. “I got you flowers,” George says, nodding to Sapnap, who has the bouquet. They put the flowers in a vase at the center of the dining table in Sapnap and Karl’s home, and George feels a sense of accomplishment swell up within him. He’s successfully contributed something in this kingdom. Sure, it’s just flowers. Flowers wilt, they go rotten and smell up the place with death once the time comes and takes its life away but for now they’re lustrous and vibrant. He holds unto this feeling of accomplishment. holds it tight, aware of the fear of it disappearing one day to make space for the other unpleasant emotions to plague him again.

They’re seated on a small hill, and In the middle of them talking aimlessly, Sapnap suddenly stands from the grass and erupts “Oh! Karl, we have to find ingredients for a cake remember?”

Karl and George look at each other in confusion, then back to the raven haired boy. “Huh?” Karl tilts his head like a puppy, but instead of explaining further, Sapnap only nudges him with his foot. “Remember?” George sees him grit out his teeth.

“o-oh! Right!” Karl stands up too, now side by side with Sapnap. He balls his hands into two enthusiastic fists. “Yes! We need a cake!”

Something tells George that Karl still has no idea what the hell Sapnap is getting at, but sure, he’ll play along too. He stands as well, knees a little wobbly from sitting down for so long. “Why do we need a cake?”

They start walking towards the farmhouse not too far from where they are. “Karl and I were craving cake yesterday and we figured we’d make some with you. Don’t you want cake, Gogy?”

George rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile tugging his lips. “Only if its strawberry cake.”

“One strawberry cake coming right up!” And then suddenly Sapnap runs ahead like it’s a race to win, and Karl looks back at George with this funny exasperated face and George looks at him back, mouths “oh my god” and watches Karl giggle and run after Sap.

George is about to pick up the pace when a hand out of completely nowhere clutches the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him away so suddenly and George doesn’t have time to even react or even think. Then –

“Gotcha!”

He lets out a yelp of surprise. Hands come from behind him to wrap around his abdomen and a chin rests on his shoulder the stubble poking at the fabric of his shirt.  For what feels like a very long time, he feels so warm and safe and guarded and oh so loved. No one can make him feel this way, no one but one person in the entire infinite universe. He accepts this.

“Dream! Get off me!” He’s laughing now, loud, boisterous and bright.

“Never.” Dream whispers in his ear, and George giggles. Eventually, he gives up fighting, there’s just no use. He slumps down to Dreams warm chest and he lets them fall on the dewy grass together.

He finds himself kissing Dreams neck, teeth scraping, togue tasting. He’s always giggling.

“Woah there lover boy,” Dream laughs along. He catches Georges head with his hands, holds him gently with a sort of gentleness only lovers can accomplish. “Miss me?”

“So fucking much.” He whispers.

“I’ve literally only been gone for a day!”

“Yeah, but it was raining out! There was so much thunder! Sapnap and I were worried about you!” Now he sits up on the grass, side by side and shoulder to shoulder with his favorite person.

Dream rolls his eyes. “Oh please, I bet Sapnap trashed the house while I was away.”

“I tried to stop him, I really did.”

“Ugh, god.” He laughs, and George join him.

Inevitably the laughter dies down. The two bask in each other’s presence as they watch dusk sweep over the sky in outstanding shades of orange and purple and this feeling feels so right, fits so perfectly in George’s heart. He rests his head on Dreams shoulder, and that too fits so perfectly.

George thinks he wants this moment to last forever, and he tells himself that it will. Everything will stay.

“Oh, right, almost forgot.” Dream mutters. George removes his place on his shoulder so Dream can reach the satchel beside him. “Literally the whole reason why I went out.”

George softly giggles.

Dream fishes the medium sized box out of the bag and presents it to George. “Happy Birthday, angel.”

George picks the box from Dreams freckled palm and carefully opens the box to reveal a single strawberry cupcake. His heart is beating so fast, it’s impossible for Dream not to hear it.

“I know its small and not much, but I promise you once we build and progress this land, I’ll be able to make you a cake. I won’t even have to journey far to make it.”

How did George get so lucky? What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve Dream?

His heart spills. “I love you so much.”

He leans forward to meet Dreams lips, and Dream kisses him back. It’s perfect. It’s like how it should be. It feels like the most natural thing to do, like this is what he is made to do. To kiss Dream senseless and dumb until he doesn’t have any love left to give, until he’s all spent out and exhausted, but fulfilled all the same

But then Dream stops kissing. But then Dream moves back, leaving George confused, lips still leaning in for more.

But then Dream caresses George’s cheek, swipes the smooth skin with his thumb and looks at him sternly, like he’s about to get scolded for doing something bad. Hee says “I think you should wake up now, angel.”

And George does.

George wakes up, and everything is terrible again.

He’s laying down on the grass, and he’s in Kinoko Kingdom.

He’s laying down on the grass, and he’s in Kionoko Kingdom with Sapnap and Karl looming over him, saying things, shouting words at him he doesn’t understand and doesn’t try to.

Because he’s laying down on the grass, and he’s in Kinoko Kingdom but Dream is not here and everything is terrible again.

~

He said he just collapsed from exhaustion. He said he just needed a bit of rest, that he was sleep deprived and not in the brink of insanity. Sapnap and Karl believed him, believed each and every lie. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe they just don’t know what to do with him anymore. Can he blame them? No. He cant. Of course he cant.

They even insisted he go home, and although they offered countless times to walk him there, he stubbornly refused it all. No point in worrying them to death even more.

Besides. He needed to have a little heart to heart with a particular god.

“I told you to stop with the dream hopping! I told you I’m doing better now!”

The god petulantly rolled his eyes at him like he’s a mere nuisance, a small, complaining insect. It makes George furious, seething hot and angry words leaving his lips from the cruel and cold numbness that plagues his bones and core and everything inside of him.

The god casually says “Its not only me who puts you in those dreams. Sometimes you do it by yourself.”

“Why the fuck would I do that to myself when I don’t even want to?”

“Oh, George, but you do, don’t you?”

“What!?”

“ever since you went to your little dreamscape, your eyebags seem to disappear. You look so much more happier. You can be so much happier if you just quit your irrational shouting and complaining. You know you need it to survive as much as the next guy, I don’t know why you’re not letting yourself have this. You know, there’s no shame in admitting weakness, little dove.”

Bitter, bitter anger, pounding in his chest. But in the middle of it, a small fraction of fear, of reluctance at the gods words.

“Fuck. You.”

“If you really want to move on,” the gods voice was stern. “Then go visit him.”

George doesn’t process the tears spilling out from his eyes until his hand touches his cheek and he realizes he’s been crying.

“Or maybe you’re too weak for that.”

That’s not true, George wants to shout back. Instead, he mumbles in as much coldness he can possibly muster, “You make it so hard for me to be a better person.”

As he walks off to the other direction, he hears Dream XD’s simple reply. “I already like you the way you are.”

~

The kettle is whistling, and George only registers its loud screeching when it’s almost too late and the water threatens to spill in bubbles. He mutters curses under his breath as he hurriedly turns the stove off.

He sighs. Leans on the kitchen counter with crossed arms, his back pressed against the hard wooden ledge. It’s funny. In a sort of masochistic way, he almost wants the pressure of it to press harder against his spine. The pain is quite distracting.

He has it in him, doesn’t he? Sure, he could visit him just like that, but that obviously isn’t the issue. No, the issue is…

George needs a distraction.

 But distractions make him hate himself more.

He presses against the counter harder.

Distractions make him want to scream at himself.

He grips his forearms tightly with his fingernails, wanting there to be red crescents embedded on the unmarked skin.

And yeah, it’s funny how much he likes the throb of pain, funny how much he wants it so bad when it’s really the only thing he’s got going for him, but no one’s fucking laughing.

George wants to move on. But is he really willing to pay the price of it?

Someone knocks outside his door, and for a terrifying second, George thinks he’s dream hopping again. For a terrifying second, he awaits the familiar sound of his voice calling to him, telling him to open the door and let him in when suddenly –

“George? It’s me. Are you there?” Sapnap’s voice snaps him out of his fears.

A wave of relief washes over him instantly.

George gets off the kitchen counter, massages his back with a hand and opens the door to reveal Sapnap, who is looking rather…upset. His usual energetic and lively persona is gone, replaced with a worried face and dull eyes.

George thinks he’s the cause of his sudden change of demeanor.

“Can I come in?”

Sapnap tells George about Karl over a hot tea of chamomile. They’re seated on the small dining table across from each other, and George can’t help but think this arrangement is unusual for them. They’re usually coming for each other’s throats, running around like children and flinging around come backs and sarcastic comments to get the other to admit defeat.

They never cried in front of each other over a cup of tea in a small, almost empty kitchen, like what Sapnap is doing right now.

“He always…shuts me out. I have no idea why. I knock at his door every day to get him to eat lunch or dinner with me and he never comes out, George. Hell, I don’t even hear a sound from him through the walls. It’s like he’s…I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

And Georges innovative heart finds new ways to break, new ways to ache. He really thought he exhausted the amount of times it could crumble to ash, but this cruel, cruel world always manages to find something new to throw at him.

“Am I the problem? Do you think he’s avoiding me because I did something?”

George softly answers, “Of course not. You can never do anything wrong.”

He scoffs. “That’s not true.”

“You can never hurt anyone, Sapnap.”

And Sapnap says something George will never forget. He says something so painfully untrue that it almost sounds unbearable for him to hear.

He says, in the smallest voice George has ever heard from him,

“I hurt you. I haven’t been there for you.”  

Sapnap breaks down into tears. George scoots out of his chair to gather his best friend in his arms and silently hurts beside him.

He wonders how the hell somebody so bright can hide so much pain inside of him, how he could possibly take it all and still be the glue that holds George together. It’s not fair. There’s absolutely nothing fair about all of this.

It’s clear what he has to do next if he wants to be there for him and Karl.

This, he is now certain of.

~

Sam allows him to bring the roses.

Because they’re Dreams favorite, and dream can’t possibly refuse roses. Also because George knows that look in Sam’s eyes whenever he looks at him. Pity. Worry. Concern. He knows it all too well.

And as George is walking the dark and purple obsidian floors, he feels a nauseating feeling in his stomach, the kind that threatens to consume him.

His grip on the roses stems causes tendrils of blood to slowly pour out of his palm. The skin is punctured with holes from the thorns, but George doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t even seem to realize it. He relishes the pain.

He feels his heart pounding, a rhythmical drum. The scared, frightful animal that lives inside of it cowers.

He can do this. He has to do this.

It’s for them, he reminds himself.

It’s all for them.

But sometimes, most times, images of Karl and Sapnap get overflooded by memories of Dream, and it gets a little harder to think, to even so much as breathe.

They were seated on the flower fields. Dream had just made George a flower crown made out of daisy chains, and he gently placed it on top of Georges head of chocolate brown curls.

“There,” he said with a soft smile, a soft glint in his warm green eyes.

Shyly, George asked him “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Always.” He replied with the most confidence a man can possibly have.

Sunlight against their skin. A gentle breeze swiftly moving, the blades of grass swaying with it. George’s hand found Dreams resting one on the space between them, and he puts his palm over it to remind himself that he is loved, and he loved too.

They bask in the comfortable silence. See, that’s the thing about being with Dream. They don’t even have to talk.

And then the sudden sound of approaching footsteps. And then Sapnap’s voice – “We have two newcomers! They go by the name of Tommy and Wilbur.”

George watched as the safety of Dream’s hand leave his. He watched as he stood up, soft features replaced with the stone cold façade he hated so much. George watched as Dream left.

Now, George watches the lava rise. Slow viscous orange and red flames lifting. He clutches the roses tighter. More blood spills.

“I’m doing this because I care about you, George! If I leave you as king, they’re going to hurt you!”

“Bullshit!”

“George. Look at me.”

He didn’t.

“I love you. I can’t lose you.”

Fuck. God, fuck.

Silent hatred, a secret dagger of sharpened words aimed at the mans beating heart. “Just say you hate me.”

Sam hesitantly reaches for George’s shoulder, stops and thinks about what he’s doing. Retreats his hand back to his side. “If you need anything George, if something happens or if you want to leave, just shout, okay?”

Pity. Concern. Worry.

Robotically, he nods his head in understanding. He wills himself to feel nothing. Its better than feeling everything all at once.

The last of the lava lifts.

George’s eyes are trained on the ground.

Sam asks, “George, I’m telling you this again. Dream – he’s not—he’s not what you think he is. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

George steps inside. “I’ll tell you when I’m done.”

Sam lingers there. “I—alright.” He leaves him with slow footsteps.

Everything seems to be in slow motion. Time halts its normal speed, anticipating this moment between the boy with the bleeding hands and the shell of the man named --

“Dream.”

To his surprise, his voice comes out sober yet certain of itself. And for a brief moment, there is hope. A bright, beckoning light he can look forward to. He can do this. He has to do this.

This hope is disintegrated when the weak figure sitting on the corner that belongs to Dream looks up at him.

This isn’t Dream. This is all that is left of the man George loved.

To say his hair is a mess would be an understatement. There are scars – more scars than what George has seen the last time he saw him – littered on his face, some still bloody, some that looks like it might never heal right.

But it’s his eyes George focuses on. Because they look so, so lifeless.

And George wants to cry out, crouch down in front of him and tell him that he still has it in him to be a person.

But he doesn’t move, because suddenly Dream’s talking, and his voice is croaky like he hasn’t used it for the past weeks. Which might as well be true. “Took you long enough.”

He looks at the flowers in the boys hand. “Those for me?”

George looks down at them like he forgot he brought them. “Yes,” he whispers, and then – “Dream, I –”

And then Dream laughs. He laughs, and George’s eyes widen in surprise because this isn’t Dreams laugh, this isn’t that joyous and comforting sound he gets himself drunk on. This is…a taunt.

Dream is taunting him.

After Dream is done laughing, he looks at George, and because George is a coward, he doesn’t look back. “Their your favorite,” he whispers.

Dreams voice drips with sarcasm. “Oh, they are?”

George shuts his eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry don’t --

“I think it’s a little too late for flowers George.”

Hearing his name on this man’s lips feels wrong to hear. Because it is wrong. This isn’t Dream. The Dream George knows, the real Dream, would hug George and caress his cheek, he would make daisy chains and put it on Georges head and call him pretty. The real Dream would take the roses from his hands and tell him he’s happy to see him, and that everything will be okay.

This Dream does not do any of those things. He scoffs. Looks away from him. “You can’t even look at me.”

George doesn’t know what to do with the roses, so he places them on the ground next to his feet in case Dream decides he wants roses.

“I just thought—” his voice is shaky. He tries again. “I just thought I’d come here and say I’m moving on now.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yes. I want to say goodbye.”

“Well, there, you said your piece.”

Now it’s your turn to say yours, he wants to say.  Shout at me, scream at me, hurt me, I can take it all, I can take it all inside of me, just, fuck – do anything.

There’s a thought that comes to mind. He’s so worthless to him, he isn’t even worth his anger. Somehow, that hurts the fucking most.

George finally looks up and forces himself to look at Dream in the eyes despite his bowed head.

“What can I do for you to say something to me, Dream?”

He’s picking ta his fingernails, avoiding Georges stare. Uninterested. Even spending months in this stupid box with nothing to do but eat, sleep, and shit, Dream still deems George as unworthy of his time.

“Look. I don’t want your pointless fucking roses, and I don’t want you. If you came here for closure, then good fucking job, George. You have it. Now leave.” 

George clenches his hands into fists, the frustration bubbling up inside him. He doesn’t know what he wants to even hear, but its definitely not this. It’s all so wrong, it’s all so, so wrong.

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?”

Dream doesn’t say anything else.

“Dream?”

He looks at George with a vacant stare. Tilts his head expectantly while crossing his arms, like’s noticed something about him just now. “You know, it’s kind of funny. Now that I think of it, I honestly never even loved you all that much.”

George feels his heart stop beating all together.

“FUCK YOU!’ and how he’s running towards him, clawing at him, and Dream isn’t even fighting back, isn’t even doing anything to get George off of him like he’s too disgusted by him to even so much as lay a single finger on him.

When George scratches at his face, he only blinks. When George tries to punch him on the gut, he only coughs.

It’s not until Sam forcibly drags George out of the prison that he sees his blood from the rose thorns on Dreams face.

Dream wipes it off of him with a thumb and puts it in his mouth.

This is the last image he has of him.

~

He feels numb on his way home. He isn’t crying.

It’s when he sees Dream XD that he truly breaks down.

“Why doesn’t he love me anymore?” his voice comes out in cries.

“That’s what happens when you abandon the people you love, George.”

“But he abandoned me first! He’s the one who watched me leave!”

“And you’re the one who never came back.”

George cries harder after that. He runs out the door with no place to go in mind. He just needs to move. He can still command his body to do things, to go to different places, he’s still got that much control over himself. Right?

Sure he does. Look at him, running away, walking away and scaring the birds from all the yelling, screeching and the crying. Look at him, as he clutches his hair, pulls at it like a madman.

Then watch him clutch at his chest, where the beating organ pumps blood and allows him to do all these sorts of stuff. Watch as he claws at it, wanting it to stop. Wanting it to be fucking quiet.

He finds himself outside the prison again.

He leans against the obsidian wall. Slips down.

Everything is so blurry.

Everything is so wrong.

And everything inside George threatens to spill out. He wants to vomit. Maybe he is vomiting. He doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t even notice the hand that tries to soothe him, the hug that tries to warm him and the voice that says

“Baby. Angel, It's okay, I’m here.” He thinks it's Dream XD’s voice, but when he has the strength to turn his head towards the direction of the voice, its Dream. Just regular old Dream. And he knows he isn’t real, he knows it’s another trick of his mind, but it’s alright. It’s fine. Because this is the Dream he prefers, the one that loves him dearly and holds him close, who doesnt say complicated stuff he doesn't understand like 'leave' or 'I never even loved you'.

Crouching down in front of George's broken body, Dream wipes away his tears. Like he's trying to get a frightened bunny to trust him, he asks“Are those for me?”

George looks down at his lap. Since when did he pick up those roses? They almost look too red to be real, the vermillion color so eye catching even George, a colorblind person, can perfectly see its subtle shades. No, this can't be the same roses he brought with him in the prison. He knows he left it on the obsidian floors. Did his mind conjure this too?

He doesn’t question it. All he needs is the man trying to calm him down beside him, so he weakly nods his head. “Thank you so much, angel,” Dream takes it from his lap and inhales the scent of roses. “I love them. They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

He’s perfect.

He sobs harder, and he hears Dream shushing him, kissing his forehead. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I don’t like it when you’re upset.”

He’s right. He doesn’t like it when he’s upset. Why is he upset again?

“Dream,” he weeps, “take me with you. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

And Dream smiles that perfect smile of his. “Of course.”

~

This is his favorite memory.

It’s a cloudless sky, perfect weather for looking for new beginnings. Three best friends, hiking up a hill overlooking a wide, stretching lake, acres and acres of forests and abundant resources of food, animals and the promise of shelter.

They all take in the view. It’s Dream who speaks first. “This is it. This is where we’ll build our home.”

Our home.

George smiles at the idea of sharing a home with two of the most important people in his world. His head instantly fills with so much plans and ideas for their shared future, he's practically beaming with joy.

“And we’ll never leave each other,” continues Dream. Sapnap hums in agreement. “Never.”

George joins in, voice softer but just as sincere. “Never.” Because how could he? Why would he ever? They’re the dream team. Nothing in this world will keep them apart. And if anyone is brave enough to try, then whoever that idiot may be would find out soon enough that the dream team is inseparable. A force to be reckoned with.

This is George’s favorite memory, and he never plans to leave.

How could he possibly?

Outside his head, there is a god that smooths out Georges curls, whose head is on his lap. He sleeps peacefully. This will forever be his state now, the god would have to get used to seeing his favorite plaything like this. Well. At least he’s his. Yes, at least he belongs to him now.

They’re on a field of flowers, a secret garden of some sort, and if you listen closely, you can hear the sound of the birds chirping.

~

Sapnap looks at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time today. He lets out a heavy sigh.

The strawberry cake is going to melt if he doesn’t refrigerate it soon. He mutters to himself, “Late again, are you George?”

He refuses to stand up and discard the cake. He only sits there, waiting for the birthday boy to open the doors.