Helium ( DNF )

Maybe

"I couldn't do it," George whispers finally. "I couldn't break your heart twice."

Dust mingles with the stagnant air as a restricted breath escapes him. The cavern of his chest tightens in a growing ache, enclosing around thoughts of protection and being protected; a wounded bird cradled in George's hands. Something stained lingers in the half-full sink.

He can't bring himself to care for it when George's eyes distract him, lift towards him in the shallow silence, a dark stare pained with unwavering intent. Candor looks beautiful on him. Speechless and loving, Dream gazes back.

"This isn't a no," the strong, familiar hearth in him resounds, "it's a 'not yet.'"

He clears his throat. "And... and Nick," he says dumbly, "I mean—does he—"

"He doesn't know," George answers. "Clearly he would've told you right away. Asked too many questions. I couldn't risk that happening."

"...So you carried it all on your own?" he breathes.

George tips his head. "I had to."

Empty leagues of carpet sway against George's stoicism, and his chest tips forward in disbelief. His knees lower down, socks dragging the distance, and he casts with force, "You don't."

George leans back against the dark sectional, wide blinking eyes taking hold of his face. "Are..." His voice trails. "You're okay with all of this?"

"Of course I am." Confusion churns in Dream's chest, and his skin warms under the careful scrutiny of George's gaze. "George, of course I'm okay with this. What—what makes you think I wouldn't be?"

"Sorry," George breathes out, lowering his forehead into a supporting palm. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Pale fingers press to his temples in a half-cover over his eyes, and Dream's chest tightens further without sight of his face. The slope of his shoulders and sigh leaking from them offers only visible shame, threaded embarrassment he's seen before, and realization sinks again.

You're used to believing I don't want you.

"Is that another reason why you didn't tell me?"

George's hand slowly drops down. "What do you mean?"

"Earlier, you said 'the main reason,'" Dream points out cautiously, and he searches his face. "Did you really think I wouldn't want this? For you to live with me?"

"Dream." An exhale blows from George's nose, and muscles on the edge of his jaw shift before he continues to speak. "I... I've seen you fall in and out of crushes before, okay? Out of relationships, before. I know how big your heart can be, and I know how you burn out—I don't mean that in a bad way, really, I'm not trying to—" He cuts himself off and a swallow is pressed from his lips. "I just didn't think... with me... it was going to last."

Dream's molars slot and clamp together with unspeakable ferocity, summer heat and summer showers blending the edges of his brain, George's voice in the corners of each memory, his laughter, his blush, his touch in dreams; fleeting words on the phone.

It did. It did. It did.

He moves to place himself in front of George and forces his attention to flit back up. "I hoped so badly that it would," George utters in a shared breath of Dream rasping, "It will."

Autumn sits beyond their shared carpet and lamp glow, a breeze on wet window panes after hours of cold rain, reflecting back on the darks of George's eyes as Dream gets lost in the closeness of him.