December: A DNF Novel

Chapter Fifteen

TW: PLZ CHECK STORY DESCRIPTION FOR EXTENSIVE LIST

George's dad's sobs were so loud, Dream could hear them coming through the phone speaker as if he was in the room with them.

George simply listened to his father sob over the phone: he cried one of those inconsolable, deeply heavy cries that seem to make raindrops freeze mid-air. 

But George wasn't anxious, or devastated, or even relieved, that his father was calling him crying- he was infuriated. His stomach dropped- he felt like screaming.

George put his dad on speakerphone so Dream could hear what he was saying, because George wasn't in his mind to rehash to Dream everything that his dad was going to say.

Tears welled up in George's eyes, as he swallowed several times in the span of a minute to stifle his nausea. Dream didn't move- he just sat up in the bed, still as he could be, waiting for one of them to speak.

"You fucking asshole." George whispered, just loud enough for his father to hear over the phone.

"What was that? Are you still there, son?" George's dad asked, his crying slowing down.

"You. Fucking. ASSHOLE." George said loudly, tears streaming down his face now without his control.

"George-" Dream said, getting up off the bed and touching George's arm lightly.

But George elbowed Dream out of the way.

George was screaming at this point. Dream hadn't heard George scream this loud ever: he was starting to get scared of who George was becoming in this moment.

"It's fucking CHRISTMAS, you worthless piece of shit!!! Do you have nothing better to do on Christmas than call me after not speaking to me at all the last eight years?! EIGHT YEARS, DAD. EIGHT FUCKING-" George had to stop because he lost his breath from screaming so much.

Dream sat back down on the bed, just watching the conversation unfold as he, too, was now crying. He didn't know how to help George, and it was almost as though Dream himself was feeling George's pain and anguish just by being near him.

"George, please just listen to me. I just want to-" George's dad started.

"Why would I listen to you?! Why would I ever give you the decency or the comfort of knowing how I'm doing, what I'm doing...YOU DON'T GET TO HAVE THAT. You don't get to know what happened after I finished school, or where I moved to, or how many roommates I have, or what my favorite song is- YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING KNOW THAT." George screamed, his breathing becoming short and sporadic.

"I'm so sorry, George...I'm so sorry." George's dad said, now back to crying again.

"You don't get to be." George said, his voice piercingly loud.

George then took his bare foot and started kicking it against his closed bedroom door in frustration as he repeatedly screamed "YOU DON'T GET TO BE SORRY!"