please take my hand

please

No, he wasn't jealous. He wasn't jealous at the people on the dancefloor at all. Certainly not when he saw all the happy faces.

He crossed his arms, sitting down with a huff on a chair somewhere in the back of the room. Looking around the room, he noticed nobody interesting. As if, he thought, huffing silently. There were no 'interesting' people around here.

This was just a stupid charity event filled to the brim with old, rich people who are all bluntly racist and homophobic. It astonished George how unapologetic they would say the n-word to black people, or say something else judgmental.

They really thought that they were the superior breed.

George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he saw an old woman, one of the richest in the room, yelling to a waiter. A few years ago George would've gotten up and told her off, but it hadn't taken long and only a few harsh words from his dad before he learnt that he shouldn't have done that.

Shivers ran down his arms as his mind wandered back at the horrible memory. He saw his dad yelling at him clear as day, spit flying his way as horrible slurs came out of his mouth. He rolled his shoulders, as if it would roll the memory away.

But no, there were no 'interesting' people around here.

And precisely at that point, his brown eyes met the yellow ones. The kind, almond shaped eyes that had haunted his dreams for years. The memories behind them, the emotions that George always managed to suppress quite well. Yet, that small moment, that moment whenever their eyes would meet, George couldn't help it. For a friction of a second it would be just them. Just the two of them. No judgement from the outer world. Forgiven and forgotten, everything would've been just that.

But then everything would dawn on George. Every time it would happen all over again. The hatred he managed to concur for the man would come back like a slap in the face.

So when his brown eyes met those yellow ones, his face scrunched up in disgust and he adverted his eyes.

See, no interesting people at all.

His hands were suddenly very interesting as he felt Dream's eyes on him. Of course Dream was here. He always was. At every single charity event he went, Dream was present too. Absolutely disgusting, if you asked George, but unfortunately, not surprising at all. Their parents were great friends after all and everywhere their parents went, they went.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, opening his discord almost immediately. Without a second thought he opened his messages with his online best friend: Ponk. Ponk lived in England too and they've met up before, but to be honest, both boys really didn't desire to meet up so many times. But every year they went to Winter Wonderland together, which would come around soon as it was almost Christmas.

There were still some messages George had yet to read.

"have fun!"

"please don't fight with dream"

"but if you do tell me"

George scoffed and muttered an 'as if'. He never fought with Dream! Well, maybe not never never. Anyways. He typed a fast response, telling Ponk he was really bored and didn't mention anything about Dream and their eye contact. Something that was of course left unsaid, yet George found himself irritated that he didn't tell Ponk something so unimportant.

"George get off your phone." He looked up to see his father looking at him disappointingly. The stern look in his eyes gave him no choice but to put his phone back in his pocket. And with that, he walked away. No 'Hello, how are you?', or 'Nice of you to come!'. No, only a stupid demand.