Play your part (and avoid the look in his eyes)

Part 9

Dream groans out in annoyance, his phone dropping onto the sad excuse of a coffee table as it blares up yet another warning. He regrets changing his number, he regrets changing the SIM card in his phone, and he regrets buying a new phone when he walked past an Apple Store, forgetting his chapstick and engraving his mind in his new task.

Seriously, why are there so many steps to this phone? Face ID, password, email, done. Why does he need to name the last 10 years of meals he's eaten and how many calories they had (an exaggeration, of course, but at this point that's what Dream felt like he was doing). His head felt like it was going to explode, with him clicking 'I agree' on the little pop up before being blessed with a normal Home Screen.

Finally, Dream thinks, and spends the next hour and a half transferring all of his numbers from his old phone onto his new one, sending each person their own personalised message informing them about the new change. Well everyone, excluding George gets one, his number isn't even added to the new phone. Dream makes sure to change all of his important subscriptions to the new number and then spends a few hours playing around with his new phone before going to bed, remembering to set a new alarm before he does so.

Waking up the next morning feels like birth all over again for Dream. He feels... new - cleaner, if that makes sense. It's the same feeling you get when you deep clean your house/room and then have a shower, getting into clean bedsheets and having one of the best sleeps you could have. It feels too good to be true, and Dream doesn't want to accept the feelings before they're ripped away from him.

So he spends the rest of his day cautious, ignoring George when he tries to insult the ginger, and moving out of the way when the dark haired boy intentionally tries to barge him.

It becomes a habit to ignore George and his antics, finding himself just phasing over all over the insults and weak attempts to hurt him with small distractions and bites on his tongue. It starts to drive George deep into madness, his attempts becoming more aggressive until it's pure sadness, whimpers and sad eyes hidden behind fake boldness.

George fades into a ghost in Dream's eyes. One small, annoying, irritating ghost...

George's sadness quickly replaces itself with anger, neglect and ignorance fueling his body and his anger to create a feeling not even the dawn of men could name. It's like everything at once, an overpowering feeling of just feelings, and George didn't know how to feel.

He wanted the feelings to go, for the pit in his stomach to be refilled and covered. He didn't want to feel like he was losing his mind, but in all honesty, he thought he was. The anger he felt towards Dream grew with the emptiness, a silent agreement to keep the emotions together wavering over George's senses.

It got to the point where the brunette felt that the only way for these feelings to leave were to- well, fix Dream. George doesn't know what exactly got up the ginger's tight ass, but he was going to wedge it out. He was going to annoy Dream to the point of murder, and it was going to be amazing.

Messing up his lines was the easiest. The most annoying for everyone involved, but the easiest to really rile Dream up, especially when George could tell that all he wanted was to finish and go back to his trailer. But even then, Dream refused to speak. The most George got was a pissed off stare, and that was enough to fuel the boy with more motivation.

Bumping into him at inconvenient times was the next thing. When Dream was taking a sip of water, George splashed it over his shirt. When Dream was fixing his makeup, George smudged the pale pink gloss over the spread of his cheek. That one annoyed Ash more than Dream, but the look he received was definitely a step forward.

The final push in Dream's mind was the loud music. The shit, ear bleeding music that George just had to turn all the way up. It pulled many complaints, though it also raised the mood of at least half of the people passing the trailer as music was a great mood booster for a bunch of overworked workers. But Dream wasn't overworked, and George's music wasn't mood boosting. It was painful and depressing. Unorganised screaming and drum beats, occasional words that didn't even fit with the rest of the 'song'.

He starts to wish he was deaf, looking back at all of the times before when the music wasn't being played and regretting the fact that he took it all for granted. George had ways to piss people off, and unfortunately he poured all of that talent into Dream's glass, leaving him to choke on the poison and drown.

"Oh my fucking god." Dream's tv sounds distant despite Dream's nose almost touching the screen. He's slouched over at the end of his bed, a position he had taken a while ago to get a better chance of hearing the words when George had first started his little rebellion. Gradually the volume increased, and gradually so did Dream's temper, his fingers digging into a pale scalp to wrap around tangled curls and squeeze green eyes shut.

In a fit of rage, Dream slaps his hands down onto his thighs. The action is sure to leave a later bruise but at the moment that's the least of his worries. His remote is pausing his show before he has time to process the last line and then he's throwing on his easiest pair of shoes to go and beat the fuck out of George.

He wants to rip his head off, cut the pretty brown curls off of his head and leave him worthless. He wants to suck the ink out of his neck and infect his blood.

With long strides and brushed off looks, Dream stops ahead of the trailer blasting the horrific sounds. It's titled 'Theo' in large red writing, the name of George's character.

He raises a close fist, thrashing it against the door with enough force that he watches the trailer shake. It moves for a few seconds and then stills, informing Dream that another knock is needed when no one answers.

Wc: 1093