Broken- DreamNotFound/ Gream

Chapter. 22

"No, I'm not backing down now." he growled out loud, tugging at the strands of blond hair that had been pulled out of his hood by the wind. "I can't back down. I have to do this..."

"No you don't."

He froze, half standing up to run to the meadows, the voice ringing through his ears. His heart beat drummed in his ears as he stayed completely still, his eyes wide behind his mask. He didn't want to turn around, to see those beautiful brown eyes so destroyed by his betrayal, filled with the tears that Dream had caused.

"You don't have to go."

Dream felt his soul shatter at the amount of pain in his words, the anger and the rage and the agony ringing through that one sentence. He didn't want to turn around to see the furious flush on the man's cheeks, the angry slanted eyebrows, and clenched fists. He didn't want to see the disappointment on the man's face, so Dream just kept his back to the man.

"I... c-can't go on without you..."

His voice sounded so hurt and destroyed that it broke Dream's heart. The meadows were right there, the man who had caused all his pain was so close, yet so far. The boys he was supposed to protect were in his line of vision, but he couldn't protect them if Wilbur was there. He had to kill Wilbur, he had to end this once and for all, and it would end his life too, but he didn't care about that.

"TURN AROUND, DREAM!"

He did.

George was standing, glaring at him with so much hate, rage, betrayal, and anger that it made Dream's heart shatter again. Tears were running down his face, his hand clutching his sword so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Blood was running from his crushed fingers, mixing with the tears that dripped off his chin. Rain had soaked his shirt, making the fabric cling to his lean frame, and in his free hand, he held the note.

The note Dream had left him.

The note that would have been his last words to George.

But he didn't listen to the note.

He'd come to stop Dream.

But Dream had already made up his mind.

It was too late for George to stop him now.

"George, it's too late for me." Dream whispered, his glowing sword hissing as the rain dropped onto the blade, steam rising in the air. "Go back."

"No. I'm not stupid, Dream." George growled, ignoring the red dripping onto his shirt and sword. "I know you're going to die, and I am not standing around as you are either captured and tortured by a crazy psycho or killed trying to kill him."

"I've been tortured before." Dream pointed out, and George flinched at the memory. "I've survived worse. I can handle it."

"Liar." George stepped closer to the masked man, and Dream felt slightly intimidated by the anger and fury in the shorter man's eyes. "You scream and cry out in your sleep, like you're having a nightmare. You're sweating and shaking the whole night, and you keep saying Wilbur's name over and over again. Every time you mention him, I can hear it in your voice. You would not survive, and you know it. Your wounds have barely healed, and your hand is still broken."

Dream glanced away, knowing every single thing that George said was completely true. His consciousness was still haunted by Wilbur, and he could still feel the knife against his skin. He knew everything was true.

"You look like you're half dead. You need a shower, and proper medical attention. You need help, mentally and physically. You're wearing yourself down." George's eyes were wide and tear filled, pleading for him to stay alive. "Not all the world's problems have to be fixed by you. Please..."