Please Let Me Go (dnf)

Regret and Recognition

Regret.

A feeling that hadn't crossed Dream's mind once in the hours that had passed since their time together that morning, now flooded his brain- his anxiety rising higher than the water on the roads. Memories of George's shaking voice begging for more, hands that desperately clung to his skin, eyes that fluttered shut with pleasure- all of it was now polluted with this one simple word- regret. George would only ask him if he regretted it because that's how he felt, right? That had to be it. Dream debated silently about what would make matters worse- unfiltered honesty about how he felt the opposite of regret, or a more mild half-truth about it being 'an experience'. Just as Dream opened his mouth, ready to surrender his sincerity for the night, Jeremy's praise came to the forefront of his mind.

"No half truths, which even then are sometimes quarter-truths."

Dream sighed, loosening his white knuckled grip from the steering wheel. He had to physically shake out his hands one at a time from how much tension he was holding in them. The silence in the car was occasionally interrupted by another round of crashing thunder. George remained silent, even when flinching from the storm. Dream wished to put his hand on George's thigh, to feel the cold smaller hand place itself atop his, to tell George the complete truth.

"No."

Well, it was a start. If Jeremy were witnessing this conversation, he would surely be rubbing his jaw in silent protest, hoping the silence would encourage Dream to complete his thought. Thankfully, this conversation wasn't with Jeremy, it was with George, and Dream knew that George could make a conversation from just about anything. The passing street lamps brought little light into the car as they got closer to town, the warm toned lights illuminating George's soft profile. The silence continued, something Dream grew increasingly uncomfortable with as he continued to steal glances at the quiet man beside him.

"I'm guessing you do though." Dream deflected the conversation away from himself. He knew exactly how he felt, it was clear that sharing all his feelings of love and desire for George weren't going to make the situation any better. His hands returned to a tightening curl around the steering wheel. He wanted to blame it on the worsening weather conditions, that he was just trying to maintain control of the car. When in reality, all Dream wanted was control over the situation, over his life, over the direction his relationship with George was heading.

"I don't know. Kind of?" George questioned, his hands pinned tightly under his thighs. Dream wondered if this was for warmth or a means to prevent Dream from reaching out and holding his hand in his. He continued to play George's equally vague response in his mind on loop, 'kind of'. How can a person 'kind of' regret sharing an experience like that with someone? The way George caressed him, the certainty in his gaze, the sounds of pleasure that snuck their way past his two coral lips, revealing a sea of ivory white teeth that smiled up at him in embarrassment- where was the 'kind of' regret then? The car slid slightly across the asphalt as Dream failed to avoid a large puddle. George reached out instinctively, grabbing onto Dream's bicep. His short nails clawed through the fabric of Dream's long sleeved shirt, his grip barely loosening once Dream quickly regained control of the car.

"You're the one who asked to come along." Dream said under his breath after George muttered a few curse words. George lowered his hand from Dream's arm, returning it to its prior position of being pinned beneath his thigh. The storm continued to run rampant outside, the wind shoving the car between the lines of his lane. Broken branches from trees and stray lawn furniture that wasn't securely tied down before the storm hit littered the roads, making the slow drive through town even worse.

"Only because I couldn't stand being alone with-" George cut himself off, facing forward again as he sat back in his chair. He pulled his hands out from underneath him, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. Dream furrowed his brow, narrowing his eye line on the store that was just at the end of the street. What the hell did George mean? Alone with... who?