Homocide Fifty || DNF

30. Sympathy

But he doesn't. He doesn't let himself shed a tear. He puts on plaid, midnight-coloured pants, sighing while rooting himself into his bed like a sapling.

He hears a ding from his phone, it illuminating the dark room. It's Dream. Of course it is.

His eyes are heavy, eyelids near closing. He lets out an annoyed groan and flips his phone to avoid the light. He continues to turn it on silent.

"What if we make a compromise?" George asks, his eyes as bright as the imaginary light-bulb above his head.

"And that is?" Wilbur asks. He's full of unspoken words and opinions, George can tell.

"We can.. drug Punz? Make him lose his memory? So we can send him to jail without him exposing Dream?" George shrugs.

"But if we get caught, we'll be in trouble."

"We won't get caught, Wilbur," George scoffs, "I'm me, you're you."

"But it won't make sense that he doesn't have any memory of killing anyone," the taller sighs.

"Well, he didn't. He made people do it, but we have evidence anyway so it doesn't really matter," George corrects.

"Then let's send both Dream and Punz in, George. They're both guilty."

"Dream was forced to do it."

"You wouldn't care about Dream if you weren't in love with him, would you?" Wilbur shakes his head, sighing. The words seem to fly out of his mouth, but what Wilbur doesn't realise is the effect it has on George.

Love is a strong word. Him and Dream are a mess, but the truth is, Dream captivates him in ways no soul ever will.

So perhaps love is the right word. He feels a lump in his throat, but it's a wrenching realisation.

"That's not the point," George sighs, facepalming. Wilbur copies him, sighing before crossing his arms.

"It is the point-"

"Let's drug him," George says abruptly.

George's tired legs are close to giving up the more he walks. It's not a long walk, to be fair. When he scans his fingerprint, entering, he immediately gets greeted by the cleaners who smile at him. He smiles back and waves, heading towards his office.

He greets Bad on his way, but Bad initiates a conversation. "George," Bad smiles, but his brows are pinched. His eyes are dark and his hair looks unbrushed. "Please don't drug Punz."

"What? You know about that?" George scoffs in disbelief. Bad nods, his hair bouncing. He really needs to get a haircut.

"Wilbur told almost everyone," Bad's mouth turns into a thin line while he nods. "But please don't. He doesn't deserve to be drugged. No one does," he states, sympathy in his eyes.

George's nose scrunches. "Are you serious?" Is all he says. After a bit of convincing, Wilbur agreed to drug Punz. And now he has to deal with the others as well? Isn't he supposed to receive a warm welcome back? A contained smile yelling his name?