Archive of Our Own ^beta

All Flowers Must Wilt

AKA the one in which Dream is a God that gets far too attached to a certain human named George.

CW: Physical injury, homophobia, assault, major character death, mentions of cancer.

When offered the chance to become a God, you take it. No questions asked. Or at least that’s what Dream did, delving headfirst into a loop of love and loss as punishment for his grandeur.

He had doomed himself to repeated pain and longing, never to be fulfilled, all because being human wasn’t enough for him. The offer was a test. A test in which he failed.

When human, he didn’t believe in love. Didn’t believe in soulmates, or destiny, or anything that would be classified as mystical, or operating from a higher power. Not until he made eye contact with one boy, a few years older than him, who took his breath away and made his whole world shatter around him, clouding him in confusement and forcing him to re-evaluate his life. But apparently it wasn’t enough to suddenly have the concept of love within your grasp. The shame that came with it overtook any softer feelings that would have caused him to speak to the boy of interest, and so when an incomprehensible beam of light emerged in his room, asking him if he was satisfied with his life, his answer was no.

And when that same entity asked if he wanted more. To hold power that no other man did. To be a God?

Well, then his answer was yes.

And thus started the loneliness.

He hadn’t asked the terms and conditions, or what being a God even meant. He knew of the bible, and he’d heard about greek Gods in passing, and that seemed enough to solidify in his mind his very own definition of what being a God entailed. Power. Disciples. Perhaps even immortality. But the reality of the job proved very different.

His job was to watch. To observe. To be a fly on the wall - or rather in the sky - looking for any large signs of interference with the balance of the universe. It turned out that science and religion worked hand in hand, Gods existing and causing the bigbang and everything that occurred afterwards, occasionally dipping in to maintain the flow of time and space. He essentially had signed up to watch billions of people living the lives that he never got to, and taking note whenever anything important happened. A genocide, a forrest fire, a rapist being let free. Any large negative action would tip the balance of the human karmic scales, and it was his job to ensure it resumed the middle position. Maybe he'd grant a dog with ever so slightly higher than average intelligence so that it can save its owner from a car crash one day. Or perhaps he’d cause something to fall over supposedly ‘by itself’ so that a domino effect could occur from it being picked up again, somehow leading to the vaccine for a disease to come into existence. This also meant however that when anything too good happened, he had to balance that out as well. Turns out that blaming God for natural disasters wasn’t too far fetched after all.

Unfortunately this task could get extremely boring. Sure it was interesting to see snippets of people's lives, but having to bounce around so often made it so that he never got to see someone’s full story. Then after about two hundred years of this, his memory from his human origins fading, it suddenly hit him. He was a God . Whose rules were he following? Why was he even following them in the first place? So that’s when he changed up his plan.

Instead of bouncing around from person to person, taking note of major events and paying attention to the larger story of Earth and those that reside on it, he decided to focus on one person, and one person only. He wanted to watch a single person's story evolve, see the ups and downs of their life, and follow them until they met their inevitable demise.

That’s when he found George.

George Davidson was born on the 1st of November, the year now unknown to a God who had begun losing track of time long ago. He had loving parents, both present for the early developmental stages of life, and even as a toddler, Dream could see the skill George held for pattern recognition and puzzle solving. It was as though he could see the cogs turning in his brain, piecing together vital information in order to understand the world around him, and such a simple small part of the human’s life made Dream theorise about his future, and who he could become. Dream got to see George grow. Got to see him evolve and go through school, doing incredibly well and excelling in the academic subjects that Dream no longer remembered failing himself. When George went to college for computer science, Dream wasn’t surprised. When he moved onto university and got into game development, he was even less surprised. It seemed that everything in George’s life had led up perfectly for that outcome. From his cognitive skills as a child, to his love for video games as a teen, it just made sense that this was the profession he’d go into.

There was something strangely intimate about seeing someone's life unfold from birth. He got to see all of George’s firsts. His first steps, his first words, his first kiss. He got to see the time he broke down after not crying for five months straight, and he got to hear every piercing scream that erupted from the man’s throat when dying in any game. He got to witness the rise and fall of multiple friendships, and he got to watch how George’s partying phase molded into a more quiet existence while he focused on his work. He was there for when George discovered that he was colorblind, and he was there when George got his first pair of colorblind glasses to help distinguish colors from each other. He’d be lying if he didn’t get somewhat emotional, thinking that he was finally seeing colors for the first time, when in reality the saturation levels of them were merely changing to make a difference between them easier for him to see.

Watching one single person’s experience of life made them seem almost like a main character of a long long movie that didn’t have any cuts or music aside from the music provided by characters themselves. Dream hadn’t anticipated that, just like a main character, seeing life through the lens of one person would create a bias for them. Dream got far more attached to George than he had intended to. At the start he’d occasionally drift over to watch other people involved in his life for a bit, seeing their sides of situations and events. But as George reached his early twenties, this lessened exponentially, Dream becoming almost fixated on George and George only.

With great power comes great responsibility. Yeah, it was a quote from Spider-man, but Dream didn’t remember that, only the quote, isolated, remaining in the background of his consciousness. No matter how many times the quote bubbled on the surface of his mind, he never listened. Great responsibility? I’m a GOD! I can do whatever I like. It seemed that he found a new use for his ability to influence Earth ever so slightly. This time though, instead of using it to maintain karmic balance and the stabilisation of time and space, he used it to play tricks on the man he’d grown so attached to.

They were harmless little jokes, like moving an object to a different place than it last was, leaving George scratching his head and furrowing his brows as he muttered a quiet “I could have sworn I left it over there…” to himself. Nothing that could disrupt the flow of the universe of course. 

It became fun to tease George in this way. Moving random objects around when he wasn’t looking, making him run out of toilet paper preemptively, make someone trip just enough so that they almost spill coffee on him just to get George's heart racing before an important job interview. It was all just harmless fun. Interference that could go unnoticed, and wouldn’t cause a large chain of events. If Dream were to interfere in more severe ways, there’s no saying what could happen. If his task as a God was to keep the universe balanced and in check, then purposefully causing changes that go against that intention would be the complete opposite of what was expected from him. If he was meant to protect spacetime, then acting impulsively would surely destroy it somehow… Right?

While most of the time he’d play these harmless pranks, other times he'd act as a force of karma, punishing those who’d wrong George. Someone calls him a slur or otherwise offensive word? They get evicted at the last minute from their apartment. Someone pushes him and tells him to watch where he's going? They lose their job. It was always small things that wouldn't go noticed by the average human. Sure a few of George's friends had joked about him having a guardian angel, one that likes to play tricks on him sometimes, but aside from that, no one would have thought there was any divine intervention at all. Which was good. Because if Dream was caught meddling in a human's life directly, he'd end up like the many before him that had made that mistake. Even more alone and isolated, a consciousness unattached to any physical being or entity. He’d become a pit of darkness left with a deteriorating mind that’d gradually and painfully drift away from him. The slowest final death possible, and by far the most terrifying.

So when he saw George cornered in a deadend he’d mistakenly gone down after a late night at his university’s library, his focus tightened.

George thought that another hour at the library couldn’t hurt. That perhaps he could finish his assignment a day before he initially expected, and have a rest day afterwards where he could lay in bed all day doing jack shit without guilt eating away at the back of his mind. The cool wind brushed through the night air, gently stroking his bare face as he exited the building. Perhaps one hour had turned into three. George’s shoes clacked against the sidewalk, slowly getting further away from the building he’d gotten so used to over the past few years, and he elected to simply embrace the night time atmosphere instead of listening to music like usual. A choice he quickly began to regret.

It wasn’t as though George had never been catcalled. Sure it didn’t happen often , but it definitely did happen, but something about this time felt far more unnerving. Maybe it was the clock ticking its way into the early AMs, or maybe it was the sinister grin on the man that leant against a wall, eying George up hungrily. Either way, instead of his usual awkward laughter that he’d try to brush off such comments with, he elected to simply duck his head and speed up his steps.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the voice spoke again, now from behind George. He maintained his quickened pace. “You know it’s not very nice to ignore people,” he continued. At this, George’s footsteps halted, and he hesitated before turning around and trying to put on a smile for the unsettling man.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were talking to me. What’s up?” George spoke innocently. Hopefully if he played it cool, the man would leave him alone.

“You go to Eckerd?”

“Err, no, no sorry. I’m just meeting a friend that lives in the area,” he lied.

“A friend,” the man said softly, maintaining direct eye contact with George and nodding subtly.

“Yep…” George tried to divert his gaze, subtly checking to see if there were any other people around. No one.

“You know…” The man stepped forward. “Something tells me that’s not true.” He only broke his piercing stare to gaze over George’s body, and the smaller man had to decide whether to step back, demonstrating his fear, or to stay put and act as though he wasn’t intimidated. He chose the latter, but the tensing of his jaw and widened doe eyes still laid out his true emotions on a silver platter, unknowingly putting him at more danger than if he were to simply back away. “I think you’re not meeting anyone,” the man said, stepping even closer, making George instinctively stagger back, glancing behind him to avoid tripping. Before he knew it, he was backed against a wall he hadn’t even noticed standing there. “Why’d you lie?” the man questioned, almost looking genuinely hurt as he caged George in place against the brick barrier.

“B-because you’re scaring me.”

“Oh, I’m scaring you? Why’s that?” The grin he gave sent shivers down George’s spine.

“I-I have to go, sorry-” He tried to push past but the man simply grabbed George’s wrist, pulling him back towards him.

“What exactly are you thinking I’m going to do to you?” the man asked, tone harsher as he spat his words.

“I-I don’t- I-”

“You think I want to fuck you?”

“Wha- No-no-”

“You think I’m fucking gay?!” The man hauled George closer to him and the smaller of the two didn’t know how to react. The man had catcalled him. In what world was assuming this was heading towards unwanted sexual activity incorrect ?

“I-I’m sorry- I-” George didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, words flowing out randomly, trying to say whatever the man wanted to hear.

“Get on your knees,” the man demanded. The mixed messages sent George’s eyebrows into a furrow as he searched the stone cold eyes of the being in front of him. He slowly bent down onto his knees, feeling the release of his wrist as his heart sped up and his eyes watered. This wasn’t how he wanted his Friday night to end. The last thing he heard were the muttered words fucking fairy followed by a sinister laugh before he felt pressure on his stomach as he got knocked over by the force of the taller man’s foot driving into his abdomen. He couldn’t even get his thoughts together before being met with another dull thump to his body as pain spread out across his organs. He couldn’t even feel the ground carrying his body as he huddled up against himself by repeated trauma to his stomach repeated itself, unknown noises coming from his mouth as his vision was fielded with black from where he had shut his eyes. Then it all stopped.

Everything stopped.

The pain, the sounds of distress.

Even his breathing.

The neurons firing in his brain stopped.

His life stopped.

Dream watched from above, eyes wide as he stared at the scene remnants. He watched as the man spat on the limp body of the human he had fixated on for the past 20-something years, and he watched as the man walked away, presumably unaware of what he’d actually just done. Dream felt frozen. Everything within him burned from intensity, emotions swirling around his being that he didn’t even know he could still feel after all this time.

It was a bad idea and he knew it.

But he couldn’t resist.

It felt strange being on Earth, viewing it as though he were a human upon its surface, and as it started to rain, he found his eyes fluttering from the feeling of raindrops on his lashes. He reached his hands out to feel the droplets attach themselves to his skin. He didn’t even know what he looked like, but… He felt human.

His eyes fell to George, quickly remembering why he came down in the first place. He sunk down to be at level with the body, quickly glancing around and trying to sense if any other Gods were watching. No one’s here. His mouth parted as he reached out a hand, noticing how it glowed with intent as it slowly reached its way over George’s stomach. He pressed the glowing appendage to the flesh below him and moved his other hand, now also glowing, onto the student’s forehead. He closed his eyes and focused his energy. This went against everything he knew, but… He just had to.

A sheen of light echoed behind his eyelids and when he opened his eyes, retracting his hands, he was met with an upclose version of George for the first time, watching his eyes flicker open and meet his. They gazed into each other's eyes for what felt simultaneously like all the time in the world and not long enough. Dream rested a hand against George’s cheek. He knew he should disappear, but he just couldn’t. He was too entranced, finally being able to see his human up close. It was nothing like watching him from above. This felt so much more intense. So much more real .

“Are you okay?” Dream said, shocked at his own soft voice, not having heard it before. George nodded, eyes flickering between the green ones staring back at him. Dream stood up, reaching out a hand to help George up, noticing for the first time that his hand and arm looked human. George grabbed his hand and instantly retracted, clutching his hand in agony and hissing a sharp inhale. Dream stepped back slightly while George looked at his hand, brows furrowed and tracing a new pink mark that had appeared. The brunette looked back up at Dream, now with a tinge of confusion, slowly warping into fear as the image of a timid tall blonde haired man morphed into a more abstract form, voice beginning to distort as he spoke again. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know that would…” Dream could hear the change, and see the flickering changes from human form to one cast of light, a while luminescent hand floating in place where the human hand once hovered. “Are you alright?” he asked again, ignoring his own thoughts in order to make sure George was okay. Upon asking and seeing the softening of George’s expression, his form remained stable in it’s human configuration. “George?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine…” The air between them grew cold as the night breeze drifted past their bodies. George looked at his hand again, the pink tinted darker now. “I think you burned me,” he muttered more so to himself than actually to Dream. The mark on his hand stung, leaving behind a bittersweet aftertaste of their contact. His eyes drifted back up to the innocent-looking man before him. “What are you?” He asked the question so quietly, aware of how odd it sounded. Most people would have assumed they had hallucinated the whole situation, but not George. If he was honest, he’d always felt like something was off, as though someone were watching him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this potentially non-human being before him could prove that correct. Dream opened his mouth, hesitating to let the words come out. This was George. This was his George. He could trust him, surely?

“I’m a God.” Those were the only three words he said, not knowing how to continue at the widened eyes of the boy still below him on the ground.

“You’re… You’re God?”

“Not… The God, just… A God. There are more of us. Or at least I think there are. It’s been a while since I formed.” Dream looked at his feet, noticing the canvas shoes plastered on them, matching the ones across from him on George’s own feet. Now that he looked at his outfit properly, he seems to match George’s perfectly, only with hues of green instead of mustard yellow and black instead of gray covering his legs. “Although… I didn’t look like this when I formed,” Dream added, gazing at his own pristine human hands. With shaky legs, George slowly lifted himself up off of the ground, standing several inches shorter than the God before him. He looked up, meeting the vibrant green eyes that he had awoken to originally. “I don’t expect you to believe me-”

“I do,” George said, cutting Dream off.

“Oh.”

“I’d much rather believe that I was saved by a God instead of, you know, going crazy or whatever,” George said with a shy chuckle. “What do I call you?” he asked.

“I call myself DreamXD, but you can just call me Dream,” Dream offered with a smile and gentle eyes. George chuckled again, grin wide as he gazed to the side in disbelief.

“Imagine if that’s just my brain telling me this isn’t real. Dream .” He chuckled again with a shake of his head before gazing upon Dream again.

“I can assure you this is real. In fact I’m not even supposed to come down here, let alone actually interact with you.”

“Then why did you?” George tilted his head as Dream felt his lips part open, trying to find the right words.

“Because I care about you.”

He knew he shouldn’t have interfered, that he shouldn’t have meddled in a human’s life to begin with, let alone literally bring them back from the dead. But this was George . This was his George, and seeing him continuing to live his day-to-day life made Dream’s act of impulse worth all of the fear that came with potentially getting caught. Simple things such as seeing how he’d wake up with messy hair in the mornings, how he’d rush around and skip breakfast knowing that he’d be late for class if he did, but ending up having to get something at his university’s canteen anyway, resulting in him still being late regardless. He found everything about George so endearing . From the way he scrunched his nose up at his friends’ joke suggestions to things, to the way his mouth forced itself open into a wide grin when he laughed. He was absolutely enamoured . Which didn’t help him fight the urges to see him again up close. There was something so mesmerising about seeing the human look so tangible and real infront of him, leading to a desperate desire to have that close proximity between the two return. Maybe one quick visit couldn’t hurt?

Dream figured the best course of action would be to visit while George was asleep. That way he wasn’t necessarily interacting with the human, but he still got to fuel his need to see the human once more in person.

As he entered the mortal plane, human form reconfiguring itself onto his body, Dream found himself facing the wall of George’s bedroom. A sound of shuffling drew his attention to the bed behind him, George resting peacefully underneath the sheets, and automatically Dream felt his feet shifting towards the sleeping prince. No matter how many times Dream looked at George, he’d never get over how beautiful he looked. His features were somehow so soft, yet held a sense of masculinity and sharpness at the same time, and although he didn’t snore, the occasional small sound still managed to slip out, causing a smile of pure adoration to appear on the God’s face. A small crack in the curtains let the moonlight cascade onto the face of Dream’s fixation, and he could feel himself melting in how angelic he appeared. Dream may have been the God stood in the room, but George was the one that looked holy in that moment. So holy, that when another opportunity to gaze upon his beauty presented itself, Dream snatched it up in an instant, unintentionally making it a habit of his. Each night when he saw George slowly relax after tossing and turning for hours on end, he’d come down and simply admire him. After enough times though, it wasn’t enough. He needed to let George know how beautiful he looked, or at least let him know that he was still admiring him even if only from afar or in the shadows.

That’s how the notes started.

He needed George to know that he still cared.

A little note reading ‘hope today goes better than yesterday :)’ had been left on George’s nightstand, confusing him greatly when his groggy tired eyes lay upon it. The next day another had taken its place, reading ‘ good luck on your project :)’ and although George furrowed his brows for a moment, he started to wonder if his suspicions for the note’s origins were true. He moved to the window, gazing out at the sky, wondering. It wasn’t until the next day when another note saying ‘you look pretty when you look up at me like that :)’ stared back at him, that his suspicions were confirmed. Even though there was no one in the room, he let out a soft “Dream…” to himself, trying to bury the smile and blush that both creeped onto his face. He placed the note back down and continued with his day, slowly letting it become a part of his routine. He’d wake up, read Dream’s note, try his hardest not to smile or feel flustered, and move on. His favorite moments were when Dream would leave a note part way through the day, either on a post-it note by his computer for when he got back home, or on the mirror written in the condensation after a shower. It made him feel loved and cherished. It made him feel special. Others may have had boyfriends, girlfriends, partners that cared about them, but George had a God that cared about him. How many others could say that? But just like most people when trouble strikes their way, the question about whether any Gods actually cared about them come into play. And then comes the bargaining.

Most people would pray to the God written about in the bible, or some other deity that they had learned about from scriptures, but not George. George prayed to the one God that he knew for certain existed. DreamXD. It was a new experience, but one that he felt was necessary.

He got down on his knees, allowing them to hurt amongst the hardwood floor, elbows resting on the bed in front of him while he clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. This was how he’d seen it done on TV, and he felt too weird going to a church, so kneeling by the bed it was. He took in a deep breath.

“I don’t know if this is something people do for you, or if it’s something that even works or is necessary, but…” George swallowed and breathed in again, trying hard to get the words out. “I need you. My Dad, he…” He opened his eyes, unclasped his hands and frustratedly pushed the hair out of his face. What was he doing? He shook his head and resumed his praying position. “My Dad’s chemo therapy failed, and… And I’m sure you already know this since I was literally crying about it earlier, but…” He sadly chuckled through his words, trying not to make them sound as heavy as they felt. “But I can’t stand the thought of losing him. I need you to help him. Please, Dream, just… Cure him. Somehow, I don’t know how, but… Please, I-”

“I can’t do that, George.” The voice startled George, causing him to stand and turn around, bracing himself against the mattress. The two breathed in heavy silence for a short moment.

“You scared me,” George softly spoke.

“I can’t help your Dad. I’m sorry,” Dream reiterated.

“Right… Right, yeah, no, I was stupid for thinking that you could…” George avoided eye contact, pushing his hair away from his eyes again.

“I mean, theoretically I could, but-”

“Theoretically?” George’s eyes snapped back to Dream, a mixture of disappointment and desperation swirling in his irises.

“But I shouldn’t have even brought you back. I can’t allow myself to-”

“Wait, brought me back?”

“Yeah… In the alley, when I… When I brought you back.”

“Like… From the dead?” George found himself lowering himself onto his bed, brain suddenly becoming a fog. His eyes flickered around as Dream stepped hesitantly towards him.

“Did you… Did you not know that you died?” Dream asked, voice laced with concern. George didn’t respond, instead allowing his breathing to quicken as he searched the air for answers. “George? Are you o-?”

“Don’t.” George held his palm up, signalling Dream to stop. “I…” His breathing sped up even more as his eyes watered ever so slightly, just enough to give a shine to them. He quickly stood up, walking past Dream to his window, opening it and breathing in the fresh air while resting his arms on the window sill. Dream stepped closer to George, still leaving a distance between the two, and dug his hands to rest snug in his pockets as he shrugged his shoulders.

“I couldn’t just let you die, George,” he said gently. “I mean, I should have, it’s like a rule that I’m not meant to interfere, but I just… I couldn’t ,” he continued.

“So, I’m dead?”

“What? No. That’s the thing. You’re not dead, because I brought you back-”

“But I should be. That’s what you’re saying, right?” George questioned, still gazing out of the window at the world of people below.

“I- I mean… Technically, sure. Cosmically… Yeah…” Dream was met with a deafening silence, one that resonated within every atom forming his body. “George, I… You have to understand my point of view with this.” He stepped forward again. “I’ve seen too many of my humans die, I couldn’t just-”

“ Your humans?” George interrupted, turning around harshly. “I’m not your human, Dream. You don’t own me-”

“No, I know that. That’s not what I meant-”

“I’m not a possession for you to play with, Dream. I’m a person! Not a- not a TV show for you to watch! Or a doll, or a puppet-!”

“I know you’re not, that’s not-”

“You shouldn’t have brought me back!”

“I KNOW I SHOULDN’T HAVE!” Dream’s voice warped as his form flickered again, one second human, and then next something anything but. A glimpse of wings and pure blinding light cracked in places with darkness, George reflexively stepped back, feeling his back press against the wall as he succumbed to the fear that rushed through him in the doubled up deepened voice that erupted from the figure across from him. And just as quickly as it came, it went, being replaced by the kind looking human that George had been thinking far too much about. “I… I know I shouldn’t have, okay George? That’s what I’m saying! I just… I wasn’t ready to lose you!”

“Lose me? Dream, you never had me. You don’t even know me!” George retorted, pushing away the fear that had risen.

“I- I do though. I’ve been watching you your whole life-”

“That’s not the same. Not in the slightest, is that the same!” George retaliated, shaking his head and relaxing his posture somewhat. “You know, I've felt… Weird, ever since I met you. I thought maybe it was just some after effect of literally meeting a God , but… It's because I'm dead. Or at least I'm supposed to be, I… I shouldn't get special privileges, Dream.”

“You didn't seem to think that when you were just begging me to save your Dad.”

“That's different.”

“Is it? You care about him and don't want him to die. I care about you and don't want you to die. It's exactly the same,” Dream pointed out.

“Yeah, except I already died! What's… What's dead should stay dead!” George exclaimed.

“What are you saying, George? You- What? You want me to kill you? Because I’m not going to do that.”

“Dream, I shouldn’t be alive. It feels wrong .” George clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm which still remained sore from his first encounter with Dream. He opened up his hand to look at the mark, still red hot and burning. It never went away. Never healed. “What’s dead should stay dead…” He repeated, this time quieter, causing Dream to bite the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah, you already said that,” he replied bitterly. The air fell silent, Dream with his eyes drawn away, George with his eyes fixed on the God’s human form.

“Dream?” The two let their gazes meet as George slowly stepped forward, trying to control his breaths which came out shaky no matter how hard he tried. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. He ran full force into Dream’s body, gripping him tight into a hug as Dream’s arms elevated in surprise. The heat travelled across George’s flesh, burning a tight pain along his body as his skin lit up, burning red and sizzling at the contact. In a panic, Dream started trying to push him away.

“George, what are you-? George? George, stop, you’re- GEORGE!” He kept trying to pry George’s body off of him, getting more and more panicked as George allowed tears to roll down his face and cries to emit from his throat as scorching fire flared through his body. “GEORGE GET OFF OF ME, YOU’RE BURNING!” It was no use though because George wouldn’t give in.

“If you bring me back again… I’ll never forgive you,” George whimpered through sobs.

“Please, please, George. Don’t do this. Look, I’ll help your Dad, okay? I’m sorry, I’ll help him, just let go.” He wrapped his hands around George’s arms, trying to detach them from himself. “Please, George, I… I need you, please… George?” He felt the burning no longer contracting from himself to the human boy in his arms, and instantly froze. “George?” he uttered, this time much quieter. He found that George’s arms came off of him quite easily, that the only thing holding his body up was his own strength gripping his arms. He quickly lowered them both to the ground, multiple ‘no’s escaping his lips as he gazed upon George’s charred, blistered face. “George, George, hey,” he whispered, desperate, searching for any sign of life in his eyes. Nothing. Dream swallowed.

If you bring me back again… I’ll never forgive you.

It was times like this where Dream realised just how selfish he was. He’d blame it on him being a God, supposedly able to have whatever he wants, but that wasn’t how his life as a God had been at all. He wasn’t a spoiled child that never learned how to take no for an answer. He was just greedy. And George was the source of his greed. He needed more.

He lay George’s body on the ground, the same way he had found him the first time they spoke, and reached his hands out, the familiar glow pulsing from them. He reached one onto George’s forehead, the other caressing his inflamed cheek, feeling the texture of blood and fat below. He closes his eyes, feeling his own burning surge through him temporarily before the glow subsided, and he waited, opening his eyes in the hopes that George would do the same, but nothing. “What? No- no-” Dream tried again, but yet nothing. He felt his entire being deflate as he picked George’s upper half up to pull him closer. His touch no longer burned him, but looking at him broke his heart. He held George’s body close to him, hugging him tight, this time allowing hollowed out tears to cascade down his false face as he rocked back and forth ever so slightly. He didn’t even know his human form could cry, but here it was, clear as day. In the hundreds of years that Dream had been alive, this had to be the most painful moment, or at least the most painful that he could remember. Honestly, he didn’t want to remember. Just the thought of having this pain linger within him stabbed far more than a blade ever could.

Physiologically speaking, Dream wasn’t sure he even had a heart, but whatever it was that lied in its place as he watched the world from above, felt broken. The thought of watching another human fueled his body with disgust and regret, sending his mind through spirals of thoughts in an attempt to figure out what he could have done to stop George from doing what he did. He couldn’t stand the idea of watching humans anymore. None of them would make him feel like George did, and even if they did, he couldn't stand to lose them too. Instead of watching the mortal lives of billions below, he remained huddled up in the corner of his plane, curled in on himself, wings and light wrapped around themselves for any attempt at comfort. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching the world when his world had already met its end.

He didn’t know how many days had passed, the hours all blending together as he remained motionless in mourning. He had already prepared for an eternity of this, an eternity of longing for a person that no longer existed, knowing that he rejected the codes implemented within him only for that to be the very reason the pain and longing occurred in the first place. He was ready to suffer with the memories of a human he fell too close to torturing his soul. He was ready for the guilt to eat away at him for the rest of his existence.

He wasn’t ready for what happened next though.

His realm had been empty, keeping him isolated for as long as he could remember. He was alone in this expanse of white space with only the omnipresent views of other beings being able to keep him company, but for the first time in his life as a God, he was no longer alone. A tall dark figure, somehow formed of smoke yet shining brighter than any light he had ever seen, slowly approached the vast area; wings and colors flying around, decorating the air with what looked like figments of mushrooms and eyes. This new being appeared hesitant, apparitions of eyes wandering around until they fell upon the glowing halo that surrounded Dream’s true form. Dream got up, taking in the figure and feeling that warmth wash over him that he’d become all too familiar with over the years.

“Geor-”

And just like that, Dream was gone, his consciousness falling into a void state while a confused, freshly formed God glanced around at his new surroundings, attempting to grow accustomed to them. A hint of familiarity panged at the God’s heart at the sight of the glowing entity that had just disappeared in front of him, but for some reason, he couldn’t place the memory.

A few minutes later, he discovered that he could watch the humans below.

A few days later, he discovered that he was a God and that there were rules of conduct he had to follow in order to fulfil his new duty.

A few hundreds of years later and he couldn’t even remember that conversation, instead being left with this code ingrained within him, and the name 404.

Then as those years turned into thousands, he caught a glimpse of a young man named Clay, struggling to figure out a piece of code for a new device he was working on. He knew that he shouldn’t intervene, but something inside of him begged for him to interact with the man in some way. He pushed it aside, instead opting to watch him perhaps more than he should have, slowly beginning to ignore the other mortals in favor of this specific one.

And it wasn’t until he saw Clay in a life or death situation that he started to realise just how attached to a human a God can get.