Just One Night // DNF

5 - All I Dream About Is You

"You thought I didn't notice? How could I not notice, George?"

"I hoped that you didn't."

✧✧✧

The next few weeks slowly passed. The beginning of August was welcomed, along with the burning dread that school was starting soon. The summer just got warmer. The weather withheld no tolerance, just the pure, sweaty, agony of late summer humidity.

George remained recluse and silently relished in having dropped probably the most toxic person that embedded itself in his life, almost like a cockroach. However, comparing Aubrey to a cockroach was nothing short of demeaning, not even George would go that far to intentionally belittle a person like that. But... nobody can actually read his mind so there was no harm done.

His summer was pretty uneventful, aside from the fact that he had recently gotten back into gaming because he actually had time to himself to do so. His friendships from his computer science class lightly rekindled when he finally was able to log back into their discord server. When he started talking with them outside of class. A refreshing sense of relief washed over him, knowing he didn't lose friends just because of his mental distance.

Of course, George also thought of Dream. He tried not to, he really did. But for the past couple of weeks, he practically saw him almost every day. Almost every time he closed his eyes to go into a peaceful sleep, he's flashed with his lewd memories. He relives that night in the hotel room so vividly that he ends up having to take a cold show some mornings.

Dream seems to haunt his...well... dreams. It's ironic, really. George didn't find it amusing. If anything, he found it extremely burdensome and annoying. He just wants a night's rest that didn't result in him waking up with the tingling sensation of lips on his. Of teeth clashing with his. Of body heat pressing against him. It's all so vivid.

But what was George to do? He couldn't forget, no matter how many times he tried to will himself to. The only thing that would work was to just move on. Walk forward and don't look back. George won't ever see him again, therefore his guilt should be washed away shortly.

Nobody knew, and nobody had to know. George just had to try and push it to the further depths of his mind, making it a soon lost memory. However, we all know that would never happen.

"George, honey! Breakfast!" George's mother called from down the stairs. George groaned and buried his head under his pillow trying to drown out the sound of pans clanking downstairs and the blinding light that shown through his shutters.

"George!" Another voice called, his father. Today was Sunday, school started tomorrow, his parents both didn't have work.

George slowly sat up, the cracks and pops of his joins echoed through his ears and the silent bedroom. He rubbed his eyes, he could almost feel the eyebags. Yet another sleepless night, at least he didn't have to take a cold shower.

With an internal groan, he stretched his arms over his head before climbing out of bed. He threw on a shirt, grabbed his phone, then headed for the door, the feeling of cold splitting metal against his ice fingertips.

The smell of bacon filled his senses as he stumbled downstairs. My mother was sat at the kitchen island. A stack of papers in front of her, a pen twiddling between her slim fingers. Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun, her clothes nothing short of pajamas.

George's dad was hovering over the stove, a plate of bacon to his left. George silently yawned and sat in a chair next to his mom, "'Morning mom," he mumbled, half awake. His mother looked up from her stack of papers and gave a warm smile, "Good morning."