pretty boy || dreamnotfound

a king

clouds hover in thin air, growing dark as time passes and the gentle breeze begins to pick up. the atmosphere is daunting, unsettling and it sirs nerves in dream's throat as his shoes collide with the concrete anxiously. he can feel it; the way his heart stutters as seconds tick by, the way his hands tremble with uncertainty, the way his brain is racked with hesitance and regret.

he doesn't want this life. blinking tears away, he takes a slow breath, then another. he tries to calm himself and ease the spiking tension but it only devours him as his breaths quicken. the unrelenting sound of white noise plays loud in his ears, his brain feels like static. dream flinches as a bell rings unexpectedly, he gasps for air and his knees weaken, he wants to turn and run away- be anywhere but here. is it too late to change his mind?

there's confusion in the crowd, he can hear mutters of intrigue and question. he can hear the strings of curiosity fall from far-away lips and float through the air filled with hushed whispers of eagerness. they want to know why they're here, why the rush? why the secrecy? a biting wind blows through, disturbing the hairs on dream's head as he drops his body to the floor, his brain racks, playing out scenarios of the next events and all the ways this could go wrong.

his jittery hands find the stubble on his jaw, then the fabric on his torso, then the floor as they urge to grip onto something, anything and his heartbeat picks up. his eyes screw themselves shut as sticky, almost humid air rapidly exits his lungs before being inhaled again, it's warm, he's suffocating. his heart races, he wants to vomit. then, something changes in the stifling air for just a second, and he forces his eyes open to scan the crowd briefly before stopping on a pair of brown ones staring back at him, he's here. 

more regret settles within him as he attempts to look anywhere else, but his gaze doesn't shift. in his peripheral vision, he can see the clouds darken in colour, and goosebumps simultaneously arise on the surface of his tan skin at the brisk, cool air that suddenly seems to wrap itself around him. he blinks, and george passes him a look; one of betrayal, of hurt, of disgust and anger. a look as if to say, "how could you?" as if to say; why would you? dream wants to call out, to rush over to him, to apologise, to comfort, but he doesn't. instead, he stills, a new panic rising within him.

dream's hands search for something to hold, his chest rises and falls in panic, everything seems to spin, slowly, mockingly. george's brows furrow as he observes him, there's something heavy in the air between them, oblivious people waiting for something to happen, unbeknownst, realising that something is happening. a shift in the atmosphere, unspoken words and hints of broken promises, unshared laughs and a dagger, not in his heart, but held to his throat.

he feels like there's a dagger to his throat. he tells himself to breathe, he fails. another obnoxious bell sounds, this time to signal the event will begin now. the first was to draw the crowd in. he's not ready, was he ever? frantically, he tries to steady his breathing, people are expecting his presence but this thought seems to only make things worse. dream rips his eyes away from george's and there's a break in the force that held them.

he searches in the crowd, spotting an important part of today's event and as the stranger locks eyes with him; he suddenly feels more at ease but the tension builds anyway. a different side of him appears, a more confident one. a tap on his shoulder causes his heart to jolt, and he raises a brow as he turns to see a boy.

the boy looks up with a nervous smile as he sweeps the front of his dark hair out of his eyes and into the beanie he's always seen wearing. "he's here...sir."

dream nods in understanding and gives the boy a reassuring smile. "thank you, i've just seen him."

"are you sure he's going to, y'know, try it?"