[dreamnotfound] soulmates

19;

vivid implantations of the dream i was having barely ten seconds ago flash before my vision when i shut my eyes. i cant escape it. George, his hot lips against mine, his hands travelling my body, his legs around my hips. the way i couldn't stop if i wanted to, and i wouldn't have if i didn't wake up.

it's gotten to a point where i think it's too far. dreaming of kissing him, lusting over him, waking up sweaty and heated, seeing him at the mall and imagining the things i could do to him, his skin-

yeah. it's too much.

not only that, but George has no idea that we're soulmates. he said it himself, that he wouldn't date me in a million years. unless it was a joke. unless he would date me. like how he came out to me and cried to me and teased me at the party.

or i'm just fucking overthinking everything.

the dream gets my mind whirring. is that what it would be like if we were together? would we share those kinds of moments? could it be even better, last for longer, go farther?

probably. and it would be heaven and Earth.

i sit up fully now, admitting that i'm not sleeping again tonight, and immediately feel a warm liquid pull from the top of my sinus to my upper lip in about 2 seconds. a nosebleed.

hands cupping the dripping blood, i stride quickly into the washroom and shut the door behind me, careful to be quiet in case it's still very early in the morning. i wash away the blood and hold a wad of tissues against my nose, letting the nosebleed wear itself out.

the guest room is empty as i slink back into my room, though a part of me wants it to have George resting there in it. a perfect circle of moonlight giving him an angelic halo. his mint lips, his fragile hands.

but i push away the thought and lock it up firmly, going back to my room and sitting on the bed. my phone tells me that it's nearly 4 in the morning. the window behind my curtains tell me the same thing, with cushioned night suffocating the artificial city lights and using stars as light instead.

my phone itches to be used by my hands, the screen keenly waiting for me to see the notifications below it's surface. when the bright screen comes alive, i see several texts, snapchats, and discord notifications. a couple texts and snaps are from George, so i immediately click on his pop up.

12:30 AM
Georgie 🤍
are you awake
cmon clayyy
wake upppp
love meeee
notice meee
*sobs*

4:12 AM

hey
im up George

Georgie 🤍
why are you up.
sleep.
now.

i did sleep
i just woke up from a dream

Georgie 🤍
was i in it
do you love me

yes.

ha. keep wishing, babe

Georgie 🤍
no. i'm not ur babe

:(

i exit the message app and go to snapchat, a hint of a smile gracing my dry lips at the texts between me and George. i can imagine his face as he texts me, how he reacts to my words.

and then my dream is brought rushing back to the front of my mind. his lips. the heat he traces my details with through his light, thin fingers. his flushed face and how his eyes were drowned in affection and hunger. the way he looked so much better under me than he ever would beside Christie.

i find myself blanked out, staring at the list of unopened snaps on my phone. George is at the top, Sapnap below him and more people trying to maintain streaks or start up a friendship with me below my friends. i immediately tap on George's.

the first one is him during our movie night, the camera angled at his lap where my head rests. i'm fully knocked out, and George's hand rests beside my head, playing with a curl of my hair. i feel an unhealthy amount of blush find its way onto my face as i stare at the photo.

i fumble with my hands to tap to the next snap, hoping to god it would be better. thankfully, it was just a picture of his eye, with the caption 'answer me Dream'. the next one says 'pleaseeeee'.

when i tap on the next one, it's George laying on the sheets of his bed, surrounding him and glowing cloud-white. his hair is splayed out around his face, though i can only see the side of his face and the tiniest bit of his collarbone at the bottom. it takes me a good minute to plant myself back down on Earth and gather my thoughts. 'hey'.

i don't think when i take a screenshot.

"fuck. shit. fuck." i curse, scrambling to type out an apology. my finger slipped. i'm half asleep. you just looked so goddamn ethereal, i couldn't resist keeping that piece of you forever-

'sorry
it was an accident'

'it's ok lmao
i understand how hot i am
snap me back douche we need that streak'

i sigh in relief that he doesn't suspect anything. the screenshot rests in my camera roll, untouched, dangerous.

taking my phone with me, i go back to the washroom to check on my nosebleed. blood still streams steadily out of my nose, but it seems to have slowed down a whole lot since the last time i checked. might make for an amazingly sadistic photo.

holding up my phone, i take a shaky but visual photo of me in the mirror, one hand propping me up on the counter and the other lightly grasping my phone. a streak of red is visible from my nose to my chin, ready to drip onto my sweats. i quickly send the snap and rip another handful of tissues out of the box to catch the blood.

after wiping the blood, the flow stems, at least for now. it seems to have exhausted itself out.

he opened the snap.

Gogy took a screenshot!

jesus christ. the things he can do to me by pressing two buttons on his fucking phone.

Gogy sent you a snap!

a picture of his jaw, inclined upwards as if he was arching his back out of frame. his lips are parted gently. i can almost hear the words spilling out of his mouth from my dream.

Dream.. on the lips.

but the caption is 'that was hot'.

[A/N: question. should i write smut?]