The Wedding //dnf

8

Dream stared at the flickering soft light of his phone screen, once again swiping through Twitter.

His casual obsession had turned into outright addiction. There was barely a moment Dream put his phone down, his eyes glued to the floating words on the page.

It was a soup of media: people wondering where Dream and George were. Fanart. Polls. Hate comments.

Dream liked the occasional post using his burner account. It felt freeing to be anonymous, to not have to worry about people seeing every little thing he did. 

It had been almost a week since Dream had posted or done anything on his social media, and even longer since he'd been on a stream. The fans were getting restless.

@dayswithoutadreamstream

Too many to count. Jk. It's been 22 days.

@dreamstan6969

Might have to change my username at this point.

@lucywasfound

ALL AROUND ME ARE FAMILIAR FACES

Dream liked all of the comments about his lack of content. Each criticism only flamed his self hatred. It felt deserved. All of it.

More than anything, Dream wished he could go to his PC and start a stream. He wished he could upload a video, or send a tweet.

But everything felt meaningless without George.

Sapnap had been begging Dream to record something since he'd gotten back a couple days ago, but Dream didn't have it in him. Not since George had left and begun ignoring his texts.

Even though he hated himself for it, Dream began scrolling back through their old messages. Reading. Rereading.

Allowing the beast inside him to snarl and roar at every mistype. Every stupid thing he'd said. Allowing himself to soak in his past mistakes. Roast in a fire of self-pity and self-hatred.

It was a strange, gurgling mixture. To hate yourself and feel bad for yourself. Part of him just wanted to hate George. But he could never hate George. Even when he sent him a message and George left him on read. Even when George ignored him.

More than anything, Dream missed him. The moments they had together. Quiet, loud, happy. Their late night discord calls and streams. Laughter. Inside jokes.

Somehow, over a short few days, Dream had finally realized that George meant everything to him. In a way no one ever had before.

Had my girlfriend even meant this much?

Dream wasn't sure. All he knew was that there was a deep gash in his heart.

It was easier to retreat to a place where no one could get to him. Hide in his room, surrounded by a cool ambience and fall back into routine.

Moping was a bad coping mechanism, but it was all Dream had.

Dream rolled over in bed, plugging his headphones into his phone and scrolling to Spotify. He sucked in a breath at the top song. He closed his eyes as the music began to play.

So softly a tender breeze brush against my knees

On a summer afternoon

I get to thinking 'bout the hazy days

Under August shade that I used to spend with you

I didn't realize it was all I wanted, what I had

My riddled heart, I had to cradle back together just to see

It's all like magic to me, you do magic, baby