It's Called: Freefall

|It's Like 2 a.m.|

*drops this and runs away*

Enjoy!! Vote & comment while you read <3

The sofa wasn't comfortable by any means, but it would do for some late night (or would it be considered early morning?) movies. George and Dream sat beside each other with piles of blankets and a bowl of popcorn between them.

The two spent more time looking for something to watch and chatting than they did actually watching the movie. It looked like Dream wanted to say something a few times, but bit his tongue. George wanted to know what the other had to say, but he didn't push it.

If he was being honest, George found Dream to be fascinating. He always seemed sort of closed off, even now that he was a bit more relaxed. It definitely had something to do with the alcohol. He wasn't drunk, but George didn't trust that he wasn't at least foggy. More than once, George caught Dream staring thoughtfully past the old TV at the blank wall. He was clearly thinking deeply about something.

As casually as possible, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Dream glanced over at George. "Yeah, I'm alright."  His tone is a bit too sharp for George to believe him.

George wondered if something had happened when Dream left. Was he stressed about a murder? Because if so, George didn't think he was prepared to help with that. "You're sure? You just seem off. I don't know." George wondered if Dream would get annoyed at him asking again. They were pretty close, but George wasn't sure how far their friendship stretched.

"I said I'm fine," Dream snapped, sounding frustrated.

There was a small pang in George's chest, but he nodded. He stared at the T.V., not actually watching the movie and instead wondering

George would deny being frustrated by the harshness in Dream's words. "Right. Of course," he muttered back bitterly. George knew he shouldn't push it. There was still something in his mind that kept reminding him that Dream was dangerous, like a warning alarm.

Dream sighed added a hesitant, flat, "I'm sorry."

George wished he just forgave Dream right there and forgot about the ordeal. "Are you really? Do you actually feel bad or are you just saying that for my sake?" He spoke coldly, not raising his volume, refusing to look at Dream. George surprised himself, honestly. He didn't want to be upset with Dream.

Dream was immediately defensive. "Yes! I feel bad for snapping at you, George. I really didn't mean it. I'm just a bit," he paused like he was thinking carefully about how to word this sentence. "...high strung right now. But I promise I'm fine. Just don't push it."

"George this is why nobody can fucking put up with you! You push people, and then they finally fucking break. You're a manipulative asshole." Harsh memories jostled around in George's head.

"I'm not trying to push you. I'm not trying to manipulate anyone, I swear. I just don't know what to do anymore!" he'd tried to reason, desperately pleading with his best friend.

George scowled at the memories of the fight. "Fine," he conceded. He crossed his arms and continued watching the movie. It was some weird sci-fi horror they'd found on Netflix. George hadn't been paying much attention, so he was totally lost.

Silence filled the room. George sat uncomfortably, trying to watch the movie. He could feel Dream looking at him. Finally, he sighed. "Are you going to say something? Because if you want to say something just say it."

"Are you okay?" Dream looked at George flatly, if not a bit skeptical. He didn't look hurt by anything George had said. "You're being more weird than I am."