Under the stars, Tommy drifted off to sleep as did the others, and in the end, George was the only one left awake. His mind swarmed with silent anxiety as he took in the feeling of a 3-D Dream. His face was cold to the touch, and his fingers practically ice sticks. George warmed them in his own. People always said cold hands warm heart.
At some point during the apocalypse, George realised the person who he cared about most was Dream. To go from talking everyday to extended silence for three long years was a hell no one thought to even think about. He hadn't thought about his other friends as often as he thought about Dream. Even his friends in the Americas.
The first year, George spent surviving through the other Waves and among other survivors both violent and passive. He kept to himself and didn't bother making friends. He was still stuck in the past. There wasn't a day where adrenaline didn't course through George's veins though, and those were the the days where George remembered just how much time had passed. Not a day passed where thoughts of Dream didn't enter his mind. He could be eating a granola bar and think Hey, this wrapper matches Dream's skin. I hope he isn't actually a green blob.
In the second year, George realised his love for Dream. It was different from the fanfiction love people wrote. It didn't save or melt him. It wasn't a life-altering realisation or an entry to a new world of possibility. He couldn't say it was a learning experience, nor did it fall into any trope either. Enemies to lovers? No, they were never enemies. Strangers at one time but never enemies. Childhood friends? No, George didn't get that lucky. Right person, wrong time? No. There was never a wrong time with Dream.
Just as George accepted his unlabelled love, he began losing hope of ever seeing him. At all. After almost two years, George accepted Dream's more likely death than not. He knew he'd never see him, and that was okay. George had their shared memories to fall back on, but those shared memories became secrets. A part of him still held out hope, but now that Dream was here, George couldn't find words to say.
For a malnourished man, Dream's body was heavy, but George didn't care. His now damp clothes stuck to his skin thanks to Dream's seawatery self, and George had laid his jacket over Dream's upper body to keep him warm. He washed up on shore not wearing a mask, and George wondered where it was or if he even had a mask when he was with Tommy. Damn, Tommy would've seen Dream before him. Regardless if he had the mask or not, George knew Dream would feel more comfortable with it than not.
Before the apocalypse, Dream boasted that he was the hottest person alive. Obviously, George hadn't believed him since he was faceless at the time, but Dream hadn't lied. Maybe it was affection clouding his mind, but George was certain that he was gorgeous.
"Y'know, Dream, I suffered for three years not knowing if you were alive while learning how much I love you, just for your dumb ass to wash up on shore like a whale."
Dream didn't reply, but George continued.
"I kinda hope you don't hear me say this but... I think I love you."
George could almost hear his reply.
You think? Oh come on, George.
"Yeah yeah," he rolled his eyes. "You goofy pixie stick."
Unlike the fanart, Dream was no god amongst men, but to George, he was the most beautiful person to walk the earth. Would he ever say that to his face? No, of course not. But he sure as hell would smile every time Dream laughed.
George poured through memory after memory of him and Dream. Hours of laughing and late night calls. Countless sync schedules. Everything. As cliche as the saying was, Dream could light up a room just by entering. He brought a lighthearted energy even with just his voice and a smile to George's face. A disc in the water reflected the moonlight into George's line of vision.
Curiously, George laid Dream's head in the sand's George-shaped indent and waded into the water. The bowl-like disc had its own budding mini ecosystem. A mini tide pool with a small pool of water and tiny tiny fish swimming back and forth. George smiled and freed the fish. Turning the bowl in his hand, he realised the bow was Dream's mask. Chipped and faded in all its glory. Sighing, he looked out into the ocean.
About a year prior, George and Wilbur held a "funeral" for all those they gave up on finding with Niki and Philza. Those included were family, private friends, offline and online friends. Ironically, they held their "funeral" on this same beach.
-
It was a quiet summer evening identical to the ones in movies where friends drink and laugh to their hearts content. Maybe some fireworks and s'mores. Unlike the movies though, there was no music. Only the quiet sloshing of the receding tides and hot breaths behind masks. Like the movies however, they too had a raging bonfire. Only theirs scorched the past.
"George," Wilbur approached a quiet George from behind. "Fire's ready."
He clutched the sleeves of Dream's hoodie. The still soft sleeves and slightly torn cuffs. He knew this would be the last time he'll get to see it.
"I know just... gimme me a moment."
Wilbur burned the belongings of those they'd lost and sent the flames into the mutant seawater. Everyone had something to burn. For George, it was his oversized smile hoodie. He couldn't wast any more time or energy on the sliver of hope that Dream may still be alive. Wilbur told him before, but he hadn't accepted it. Now, he was ready to let go.
George carefully peeled off his smile and approached the burning pile. Staring at the flames, he tossed his smile to the fire. The flames reflecting in his irises dried his tears before they spilled down his cheeks.
The cloth burned better than dried wood alongside Wilbur's red and white t-shirt. George hadn't know Wilbur owned a TommyInnit shirt. It must've hurt him to burn something of Tommy. A screenshot of Niki's chat thread with Minx disintegrated to ash, and by now, Niki didn't hace the energy to react. Whether or not Minx was alive would be up for debate in Niki's mind, but now, she had to let that thought rest. Philza clutched something small in his hand not wanting to let it go.
"What have you got?" Niki asked.
His hand fell open revealing a ring identical to the one on his finger. Only, this one was smaller. Nikki's eyes widened, and she immediately curled Phil's fingers back into a fist. Had Phil lost it enitrely?
"Don't be ridiculous. You should keep that."
Philza almost laughed, "It's fine. The whole point of this fire is to let go of things and people who are gone."
"Niki's right though," Wilbur shook his head, "Metal won't burn that well. Especially titanium."
Phil sighed and pocketed the ring. George watched knowing Wilbur and Niki both wanted him to keep something of his wife. Wilbur turned to the burning wood and pushed it pile into the water with his foot. Letting the tide welcome its ashes. The four strangers-turned-friends watched as the belongings and memories they held dearest floated out of view.
"Maybe the ashes will land on the British coast," Wilbur said out of the blue.
George chuckled, "If anything, I hope it finds the American coast."
-
He smiled bitterly at the memory and stalked out of the water. Rolling down his cuffed pants, George laid on his back beside Dream and let the flickering fire lull him to relax.
The more George thought about it, the more Dream's presence seemed like a curse. A massive middle finger from God. The man suffered the effects of the Ash for who knows how long. Dream would leave almost as soon as he arrived. George knew he wouldn't stay forever. No one did. Death caught everyone in the end, but the least God could have done was let George believe he'd found closure. Even if it was false.
He snapped himself out of sleep and rolled over facing Dream's unconscious self. George clutched Dream's limp hand like a lifeline and pressed his forehead to Dream's. Lips just grazing Dream's chilled skin.
"Please, God... let him live," George's breathy voice cracked. "Even just to morning. I mourned him already. Please, don't make me do it again."
He frowned at the sky. Its beauty mocked him. It was always so beautiful, and it only became more impressive when the Waves wrecked everything below. George bit his lip. He couldn't envy or resent the night sky.
"I'm begging you here... I don't think I can do it again."
Word count: 1503