Racer 404 || (dnf)

20• Privacy, Please?

(George's POV)

The car has slowed to a stop outside a house that replicates many others along its winding roads. The rain has dispersed into the cold winters air, replacing the chills that had once covered my body with newly found nerves.

What if this all goes wrong and they don't want to hear his side of the story?

As i unbuckle my seat belt and peal my eyes off of the house, I ruthlessly unveil the realisation that our few days moving forward all depend on their decision. Will they offer themselves to our plan? Or will they care less and kick us out?

As these thoughts swindle my mind, a warm light can be seen peaking out through the closed curtains of the windows through my peripheral vision.

As I turn to my left, my eyes find themselves tracing along the worry lines that are embedded into dreams face; his hand parched around the steering wheel as if he were still driving.

'Dream?'

Though I mention his name in my delicate whispers, his attention isn't brought back into our reality, his eyes cold and dark as he continues his stares, they loom painfully at the blank wall that is ahead of us.

I can't even describe how I'm feeling right now but all I can say is that it hurts a lot to see him so worn down after getting his life ripped apart, discovering the only direction he can lead is to piece it all together again with the tape that is wrapped around his wrist.

As I watch his delicate point of view, the way the moonlight glazed over his dewy face, sharpening every corner of his jawline; I can't help but feel engulfed in anything that marks his presence. Sitting here, watching him, I feel overwhelmed that he even exists in the same timeline as me.

I slowly reach over to his shoulder and rest my hand there, repeating his name. 'Dream.' And he finally looks.

'Are you sure you want to do this?'

He clears his throat, a bubble of anxiety spilling out into the air as his breathes deepen.

'Y-..yes George. I need to.'

'Okay. Are you ready?'

He nods slowly at me and steps out the car, I watch as his figure becomes imminent beside it, staring up at the house where they both sit, unbothered to the silhouettes that will soon be haunting their doorway.

I bury my head in my fingers and press the palms of my hands deep into my eyes, trying to release the pressure built up inside them.

I need to be brave for him.

Deep breaths exhale through my nose and my vision is re-gifted to me as my head lifts. But dream isn't where he was. I scope my eyes to where the front door is when the one next to me opens.

'Are you ready George?'

His hand is outstretched in a welcoming matter, his smile small but loving; I hold his hand as he helps me out the car. We come face to face, breathes pattering onto each others as they meet in the middle. They crash together, bursting out heated flames that warm our faces; this imagery flakes the darkness with particles of that night. That crash. That blooming relationship that had just begun. I wish to be back there, fingertips heavy and cold. Tires spinning and engines roaring.

But as his eyes glow, it all fades away and I am reminded of what we will be walking into as the seconds thread through us. Wheeling us closer to our destination like a ball of yarn.

'I'm nervous but I'm sure they'll understand.'

'Of course they will. They're our best-friends. Or...were.'