Stay, Forever

6

He's nothing like Dream. He repeats it over and over until it becomes like a mantra in the back of his own mind.

He sits on the floor with his back against the bed frame, legs crossed in front of him as the silence weighs down around him. He thinks about the fact that his parents know where he is and know what's happening to him, and his chest aches. It's always been easy to suspect that they had never actually wanted a child, but now that fact has been solidified by the sharp edged words of a masked stranger.

George rubs his eyes, tries to stop the tears before they have a chance to fall. And he repeats the mantra over in his head, I'm nothing like Dream. But he knows the truth. And the truth is that if even a couple of things had gone a little differently in his life, there's a decent chance he could have ended up exactly like Dream.

George has always had to work a bit harder to control what he feels and the impulses that come with it. From an early age, he's carried with him a deeply rooted resentment and anger for the people who weren't there for him. But he's always known where to place the blame, and that's always helped him keep those feelings in check.

He figured out pretty early on in life that being angry would only lead him down a dark path in life, and that's not what he wanted for himself. He may be screwed up in a lot of ways, but he actively tries to be a decent person. And so even if he has to put on a fake face for the rest of the world, at least he's not taking his anger out on any innocent stranger he can find.

He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath, and he finds Dream buried somewhere in his own thoughts. He tries to picture him at the age of ten; scared, alone, confused. And he hates that he knows exactly what that feels like. He hates that he can relate to Dream at all, but he also finds some twisted comfort in the fact that there's someone out there that knows what it's like to feel completely abandoned.

There's a single knock at the door, but George doesn't bother looking over. He leans his head back against the mattress, eyes cast up towards the cracked ceiling as the door slowly opens. He hears the approaching footsteps that he knows belong to Dream, and he can just barely see the dark clothing out of the corner of his eye as Dream places something down on the bedside table.

Dream stills as George finally glances over, and he groans quietly when he sees the sandwich that's been left there for him. He looks up at Dream, who's already looking down at him, and he asks, "peanut butter and jelly again? Are you serious?"

It's been the same meal every single time, and he's not sure how much more of it he can stand.

Dream shrugs, and George rolls his eyes as he shoves the plate away and mutters, "I don't want it."

He doesn't care that he's acting childish. He feels angry, jaded, and he blames Dream for the sinking feeling in his stomach that won't seem to go away.

Dream exhales sharply, but George isn't scared this time around. He doesn't care what Dream's reaction will be, and he's finding it hard to be nervous when all he can feel is sadness and anger.

"Fine," Dream answers, "I can see if we have something else upstairs."

George's brow furrows, and he looks up at Dream like he's not sure he heard him correctly. Dream just stares back with that same unreadable expression he always wears, the one that George can never quite figure out. He's having a hard time believing that Dream would be accommodating in any way. And George thinks that maybe he feels bad about the things he said the day before.

A small feeling of hope sparks in George's chest, and that's not a feeling he usually allows himself. He sits up a bit straighter, braces his hands against the floor below him as he suggests, "I'm a pretty decent cook. Can I come with you? I can make my own food."