Just One Night // DNF

4 - Guilt, Shame

"Hey, I'm Clay. Nice to meet you."

"I'm George, it's nice to meet you too."

✧✧✧

Fuck.

George peers over at the peacefully sleeping blond next to him. He squeezes his eyes shut and carefully tries to lift Dream's arm off of him. He hopes, begs, that Dream doesn't wake up.

The taller stirs a little, groans, and rolls over, letting go of George in the process. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief and carefully pulls the sheets away from him. He stands up, trying his hardest to be quiet because, for the sake of his entire being, he doesn't want Dream to wake up.

George quickly grabs his boxers off the floor and slips them on. He then quickly pulls his pants and sweatshirt on. He slips his shoes on, ignoring his mind splitting headache. He swiftly grabs his phone and wallet.

George stands at the foot of the bed and just stares in disbelief. The sudden realization that he just slept with a complete stranger last night washes over him. It being a stranger isn't even the worse part, he had a one night stand with a guy.

He spots all sorts of purple marks on Dream's skin. From his jawline all the way down his chest and disappearing below the blanket. Fuck. George squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

The brunet quickly spun on his heel and rushed out the door. His mission to not wake up Dream succeeded. George, feeling a little bit guilty, paid for the room at the front desk then called for an uber. 

He sat at a park bench, waiting for his uber to arrive. George let out a long sigh and buried his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. Does he just go on pretending like nothing had happened? Pretend as if he hadn't just slept with a guy and fucking enjoyed it? That he liked it a lot more than he should have, how it felt better to be held by a random guy than to be holding his own girlfriend.

It would have been one thing if he didn't remember any of it because he was wasted but no, he remembered every single thing. 

Every single kiss, every single touch, every single word that left Dream's dirty little mouth. Every moan, every sound they made. He remembers all of it so vividly that it makes him wonder if he was even drunk.

George felt his cheeks grow red at the memory, his fingers absentmindedly touching his slightly bruised lips. He could almost feel Dream's teeth tugging at them. He closed his eyes, feeling tears pricking at them.

Why the hell was he crying? Should it be over the fact that for the first time ever, he was so open about his sexuality with another guy and was accepted? Should it be the fact that George basically cheated on his girlfriend with a guy? Sure, she cheated on him first but isn't that pretty petty of him? 

"I'm such an idiot." George mumbles into his hands, tears starting to wet his fingertips. "Idiot, idiot, idiot." He repeats. There was a notification on George's phone, telling him that his ride had arrived.

He quickly got in the car, wiping his eyes free of his shame and guilt with his hoodie sleeve. "Mornin" The driver greets before pulling out onto the street. George nods in acknowledgment and greeting before sinking into the leather seat. 

The car ride is spent with George going over last night's events in his head. How he got to the point of jumping in bed with Clay or Dream or whatever he wanted to be called. From the party to him wandering the streets at well past midnight.

To him almost getting hit by a car. Getting in a strangers car. Getting cigarettes and alcohol to try and cope with his exhausting racing thoughts. Cigarettes... Cigarettes.