Mark My Words || DNF Soulmate AU

Chapter 30

I know what your soulmark looks like.

The air around George whispers, fading in and out as it pushes him toward a silhouette. Everything is confusing, he can't even tell if he's listening to crashing waves on a beach or the lively chatter of birds on a sunny morning. It's loud, but at the same time paradoxically muted so that all George can hear clearly is one single phrase.

I know what your soulmark looks like.

George breaks into a sprint, running through films of mist and dense fog as he reaches for something even he can't fully make out. There's no destination in sight, and all that seems to exist is miles upon miles of nothingness. Abruptly, George feels his knees buckle as he collapses onto the floor, only to find himself at the feet of another person whose face is obstructed by a golden light coming from behind him.

He looks around in confusion, all the fog is gone, replaced by rows of pews in what appears to be a church.

How'd he end up here? How long has it been? Wasn't he looking for something? George looks up and immediately has to close his eyes to ease the blinding effect of the light pouring in from above. The figure's face remains blocked from view, and George wants to bash his head against a wall.

None of this makes any sense. He has to be dreaming.

Dreaming... Dream? Something is coming back to George, piecing itself together like a previously abandoned jigsaw puzzle, It's Dream.

"I know what your soulmark looks like," the voice is clear this time. The man standing above George says the words, delicate and light in a way that's completely incongruous with the harsh lighting of the scenery.

Confusion floods George's system, and he stumbles for something to say in response. Before he can, however, the faceless man grabs him by the wrist and tugs him harshly into the light.

George wakes up to his blanket three-quarters of the way to falling completely off of the couch and onto the sleeping bag Dream has stuffed himself into. It wasn't apparent last night, but now that the sun is shining its generous rays into Dream's living room, his sleeping bag is way too small for his height. It practically ends at his shoulders, and it appears like one of Dream's hands is uncomfortably squished against the side.

Having established his setting, George pulls the blanket back up the couch and over his eyes as he tries his hardest to recall last night's events. There's very minimal success, as all his mind allows him to remember are fragments of dialogue that don't make a whole lot of sense. They talked for a long time, and George thinks there was something about a hot tub. Then maybe about diets? A pout overtakes George's features as he mentally laments his inability to retain memories when he's tired.

George really hopes he didn't say anything embarrassing.

All of a sudden, George sits up in a flash of recollection and the blanket finally slips onto the floor completely from the sudden movement. Maybe it's because George never exercises, or the fact that he had been sleeping for the past few hours, but he thinks he might have pulled a muscle from how suddenly he pulls himself upright. His head is throbbing uncomfortably as he adjusts to the new position, and George desperately holds onto the one singular thought that led to his shock.

When he finally recovers, he rolls the sleeve of his left arm up to look at the band-aid taped there. It's probably in need of a change, seeing as he's had it on for more than 24 hours now, but George isn't looking at it for that purpose. Instead, he takes his right hand and gently wraps it around his wrist.

Something clicks in his mind.

Last night, Dream had tugged on his wrist and admitted to him that he knows what George's soulmark looks like.