heart monitors-dreamnotfound

twenty-two

Not knowing what to say, the brunette just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"George."

It sounds more of a warning than a neutral statement, which surprises Dream more than anyone.

"Fine," the brunette snaps. "You want to know everything? Everything's so perfect, and it just makes me feel as if things are going to go wrong again. You're perfect, and at least I think we're perfect." He sucks in a breath, "But the timing is just so off."

Dream eyes widen, and everything about the subtle harshness is gone in a flash. He looks innocent—fearful, even. It's shocking how a few words could knock all of the poise and confidence out of someone so magnificent.

It makes George shudder in guilt, because the last thing he would ever want is to make Dream feel uncomfortable and out of place. This was what he did to people, and no matter how capable someone was, that capability was never enough.

George couldn't deny the fact that he was terrified. If he was just a little bit weaker, he would probably be trembling with fear. It wasn't that he was scared of Dream. No, there would never be a time that he would feel threatened by the blonde.

For the first time in his life, George is scared of himself. He had pushed Dream too far, he had challenged him with countless obstacles that it would be shocking if the blonde even made it out alive.

A chilling feeling rushes through the room, there's no physical change but everything feels so different.

But here they are, Dream standing by the bathroom door with a crushed expression while George sits cross-legged at the edge of the bed. The brunette wants to look at a mirror because he's pretty positive that he has the same sad and scared look on his face.

"I think I want a break."

The words come out before George even knows what he's saying. The words waver with uncertainty and the brunette already wants to chase the words and stuff them back where they belong—somewhere dark and hidden, somewhere Dream could never reach and find.

"A break?" the blonde repeats. His voice is thin and fragile, and it hangs in the air with precaution.

George chokes because of how empty those two words were coming from Dream. He looks away, because the last thing he needs right now is to meet eyes with Dream and observe how broken he was.

How broken they were.

The brunette nods, "If- if that's okay with you, I mean."

Dream just swallows, because what are you even supposed to say to that?

"Yeah," the blonde says, running a hand along the side of his face. He leans against the side of the door, not knowing what to do next. "A break," he repeats softly. "Is it something I did? Because I'll try my best to fix it. If it's not and you just need some time, I totally get it. I hope I didn't come off too strong, and—" 

Dream's words spill out endlessly and end up in a spiral of crescendoing volume. It feels so quiet that it's close to a whisper.

"You did nothing wrong." George bites down on his lip, dropping his head low until he's sure Dream could no longer see his face. He doesn't want to cry, but he knows that he's going to cry eventually. "It's not something you did," he explains. George hates how the blonde's blaming himself. "It's not anyone's fault if it's not mine, and I guess I just need time. You can't fix something that's not broken, Dream. You did everything right."

I don't believe you. Those words almost slipped out of Dream's mouth but he pulled it back just in time.

He believes in George because there was never a time he didn't believe him, and bringing that up now was pretty pointless and it'll seem like he was guilt-tripping the brunette.