Blackbird | DNF

Blackbird

They say there are five stages of grief.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

And finally, acceptance.

That didn't apply to George. Ever since that day he said goodbye to the love of his life, the last day he would ever get to see him alive, breathing and so in love with George, that was the day that his never-ending depression loop of torture began.

It had been months. Seven months in total and he still has not moved on.

Truly, you can never move on from something like that, but you can grow and continue to live your life, surrounding yourself with the people and things you love and knowing to never take it for granted.

Dreams mother, his sister, and his family had done exactly that, continuing their lives and filling the house with reminders and pictures of the beloved son, brother, and cousin just to keep his memory alive and well.

Drista continued to boast about having such an awesome and popular big brother as if he was still alive, his mother continued to accidentally make an extra dish at dinner. But instead of those dreary tears that used to fall from her eyes in the beginning, the family laughs together, placing the plate on the console table in hopes Dream's spirit was to find it.

Drista had noticed every time this happened a single blackbird seemed to always pop up outside the kitchen table, watching in on the family having a tasteful dinner. Instead of feeling creeped out like others probably would, she enjoys the bird's presence, it almost felt like it was a missing piece they all were missing for some weird reason.

SapNap had done the same, keeping those pictures in his phone gallery of his and Dreams nights out at three am captured in blurry pictures and cringy Snapchat filters. The jacket left on the coat hanger continued to stay put, not touched, not moving no matter how much SapNaps brain complained he needed more room for his own jackets.

SapNap continues to go out with his friends, Karl, Punz, or anyone who asks and lives his young life to the fullest. He continues to do small streams here and there when he can. He continues to love and care for his girlfriend no matter how he's feeling that day or no matter how many memories he gets from a certain spot in his small apartment that brings back remembrance of the Floridian.

George doesn't grow.

George doesn't move on.

George doesn't live.

He stays in the bedroom he once shared with the blonde. He misses the presence that used to calm and comfort him. He even misses the night he would be awoken by Dream's obnoxious snoring. He misses those nights he would be sprawled out against the silk comforters and taken apart by the boy he called his.

Every single crevasse of the house forces loving and painful memories into his brain, pushing George down into an inescapable hell where he feels phantom touches and kisses on his neck.

He's become used to the sleepless nights, lying awake and just staring at the empty left side of the bed of what used to hold the most beautiful creature he's seen created in this world. And when he was lucky to get that half or a full hour of much-needed sleep, the brutal and horror nightmares would awake him in sweat and fright.

So he had fully given up on trying to sleep.

George had even thought a couple of times about trying to get rid of everything, sell all the furniture, buy a new house, or maybe moved back to the Uk even...to remove all and any memory of Dream to stop this heart-shattering pain. It was too much and he couldn't escape it. But he knows he could never do that. He could never bare forgetting or trying to forget dream.