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

Part 17

Dream starts to understand why George likes to ignore him. It's easier, stops his heart from racing every time he catches a glimpse of the overly pierced man. He no longer wants to rip his hair out over a non-returned glance and he doesn't feel as rejected when George ignores his words; because there's no words for him to reply to.

The only times they do speak are at night. The only times they touch each other and breathe compliments over each other's freckles and marks are when they're naked in bed, out of mind and out of control. They let their hands do all of their talking for them. They don't need to say what they want, they just know; George just knows. Dream starts to guess that that's why he keeps going back for more. All of the perfect touching and kind words - words that don't fully have the meaning they suggest - Dream is addicted to George, he's addicted to his feelings.

He means every single word he says to George. When he thanks the older as they finish, when he praises George and keeps their bodies close no matter the position they're in. He loves to tell George how pretty he is, scolding himself for never saying the words when they first started all of... this. He'd beat his past self up for his mistakes, seeing George for what he really is instead of just someone he used to blow off steam. Although George doesn't mean any of the words he says to Dream, Dream means every word he says in return.

George's touch is like one of his own personal tattoos on Dream's skin. He always knows it's there, even if he can't feel it 24/7, and it drives him mad. He starts to crave it even more, purposely heightening his sex drive by watching more porn and listening, reading, thinking about so many disgusting scenes. Man on top of man, dick fucking through a throat, lips on lips - Dream wants to live it all out with George, their bodies tangled together with Dream on bottom as normal.

He doesn't even want to be the one on top, not when George is looking at him with those eyes and brushing his fingers through Dream's hair when he's close. He's never wanted to submit to a man so badly. What is wrong with him?

It was like Dream needed to breathe George, to feel his skin against George's, to feel their lips pressed together. Call Dream obsessed because fuck. All he needed was George - all that he craved was George. Reminders of their nights, subtle lines in the same voice he'd use to praise Dream in the night. It was all too much. George was too much.

Dream had fallen head over heels for the man he used to hate. While George lay bursting his ears with horrid music, Dream lay in his bed listening (cringing, but listening). Sometimes he felt as if he were there with George, with his eyes screwed shut and his hand wrapped around his dick. It felt embarrassing, disgusting, and incredibly stupid for him to be doing all of this.

Even as he sat on two of his own fingers, whinging and biting onto the own flesh of his hand. He imagined it was George doing it for him, just like he had all of those times before. He tried to remember all of the ways the goth would bend his fingers, run his free hand over Dream's body and tighten around his neck. It was easy to replicate, but the feeling was never the same. The rush of relief at every session was never enough, so he always ran back.

Lost in a maze, running after a fantasy only he was feeding, Dream knew nothing with George could ever be the same. He knew George would never treat him the same, not when they were so close to parting. There were barely a few scenes left, retakes and final shoots before they were gone - forgotten about.

Waking up felt like a nightmare, like the sick and twisted dreams you beg to wake up from. You know it's real but the feeling of reality isn't quite there.

Was he ready to give George up? Did he want to? Dream spent countless nights tangled into sheets with the man, bodies wrapped together with pants and soft moans emitting from their throats. Dream missed the way George used to take care of him, the way they'd hold each other before Dream left, how George would wake him up and make sure he was okay.

"You know barely any relationships stick after filming." Sapnap used to laugh at his reality, revealing him of the truth and crushing any hope he had of him and George staying in contact after everything passed. "This one could be different." He'd huff back, only to be sympathised at and reminded of his past relationship with brunette.

Enemies. Co-stars. They were never designed to be lovers, only behind the stupid tv that Dream wasn't even sure he wanted to see himself behind anymore.

"I never want to leave you." Even speaking to himself, Dream felt so helpless in his own mind. George was like an invisible scratch on his skin. There but impossible to find, impossible to feel and clear. With broken feelings and open eyes, Dream watched as ever so slowly members of the cast started to part. Their trailers slowly left, empty spaces with nothing but discarded trash to remember them by. Even then, their memories would get swept away. George would bump his shoulder with a cold eye, a look telling him to hurry up as he left with no words to step into work.

"What am I going to do?" Dream asks, his head tied to his shoes as he moped in the same direction George had walked. He only had a few weeks left. A few days, barely a month, to tell George how he feels and finally get his closure.

But is he going to get the answer he wants?

Wc: 1019