It's been days.
Days of disbelief, days of questioning silence. Days where Dream and George just cry, others where they just sit in numbness, unsure of what's next.
There are drones, maybe half a dozen, that hover around them. The machines witnessed Karl and Sapnap's deaths in the days earlier. They watched in nosy silence, seeming to see everything. George hates it.
He's laying on his back, hands on his stomach as he stares at the rising sun. It moves slowly, the faux rays touching everything in their path, caressing the tree leaves and the dirt. George doesn't look away.
"Do you think they're together?"
Dream's voice comes out broken, raw. George doesn't look at him.
"Yeah," he whispers, "I think they are."
Dream exhales through his nose, and George can see him rub his eyes in his peripheral. A hand tugs through dirty―quite literally―blond hair. After the rain stopped days ago, they were left in soaked clothes. Their clothes accumulated dirt, clinging to their skin and irritating them. They don't care, though.
It's hard to focus on something so inconsequential when something bigger and more tragic has just happened.
George sees the mute button flicker off on a nearby drone and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes in apprehension.
"Are you two done moping? It's time for one of you to win."
George grits his teeth and doesn't respond. He lets the female voice, through the speaker of the drones, sigh in disappointment.
"Many fans are saddened at the loss of your friends. Even more of them lost a significant amount of money― all of which was betted against you."
George recalls the very first day he met Sapnap. He remembers how the lumberjack seemed to have the most fans. The thought makes him sigh, a heavy exhale leaving his mouth.
Dream replies, his tone bitter, "Fuck off."
"Dream," George mutters, "don't engage with them. You'll make it worse."
"No," Dream spits, venom lacing his words. George opens his eyes and sits up, studying Dream. "They can fuck off before I rip the cords from their bodies."
A drone gasps, causing Dream to laugh darkly. He glares at them, seething, "Leave us alone."
"It is within our rights to ask players questions."
"'It is within our rights,'" Dream mimics, his tone high. He mutters, pointing a dagger at the camera of one, "Once we win, I'm gonna track down you drones specifically and find whoever is talking, and I won't hesitate to show you what I can do."
The drones pause. Dream doesn't break his stare, hand unwavering.
"And there you have it, folks," one of the drones says to its audience, "from live television! A threat by―"
Dream jumps up, cursing at the drone, which flies higher and continues to speak to the audience. George stands up and rests a hand on Dream's forearm. A muscle flexes from under his grip, anxious. Dream's jaw is clenched as he glares at the drones, his chest breathing heavy.
George murmurs, "Leave them alone, Dream. You're just giving them what they want: a show."
Dream looks at George, eyes softening. He sheathes his dagger and clasps George's hands between his own. Hands raise George's to Dream's mouth, where he brushes his lips over George's knuckles softly.
"They're just stupid machines with stupid people behind the camera," George whispers, "don't let them get under your skin."
Dream exhales, his eyes closing. "You're right. I... I just wish that they would leave us alone."
"We're probably the last ones left," George says. "It would make sense. They don't seem to want to bother anyone else but us."
Dream's eyes open, sparking with realization. He looks up at them, muttering to George, "So what do we do now?"
"I― I don't know."
"We're not going to kill each other," Dream comments, and George can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes and he thinks.
"Or we could," George mutters.
Verdant eyes snap to him. "What?"
George doesn't wince. He continues, "They can't have no winner, so they'd have to stop us before we die. Think about it."
Dream hesitates. "I don't want to pretend to kill you."
George glances at the ravine across the small plain in front of them. Dream's eyes narrow and he says sternly, "No, it's too risky."
"They'll have to save us," George says earnestly. "Listen, they'll save us both. They can't save just one of us because that would be favoritism and they'd have huge backlash in the sectors. C'mon, Dream."
Dream looks at the ravine briefly. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Do you have a better one?"
"Well..." Dream's shoulders sag in defeat. "No."
George grins, but he isn't excited. Yeah, he doesn't want to die, but he thinks it'll be cool to outsmart the arena creators and the President.
He grabs Dream's hand, tugging him towards the ravine. Drones follow behind, curious.
"What are you doing?"
"Beating the fuckin' system," Dream mutters under his breath, and George remembers when Sapnap said that once.
They stop at the edge of the ravine, looking down at the drop. George's face pales and he kicks a small rock. It falls, and falls, and... falls.
"So we just jump or...?"
George looks at Dream and nods. "I think so. They'll have to catch us or there will be no winner."
"Okay," Dream whispers, looking down at the fatal drop.
"Are you ready?"
The grip on George's hand tightens, bringing George's eyes to Dream. Dream takes George's face in his hands and he murmurs, "I love you, okay? That isn't going to change after this."
George nods, smiling softly. "I love you, Dream."
Dream returns his smile and presses his lips to George's. Their kiss is rushed, both of them have some fear that maybe this is the end. Might as well make it count.
They break apart to hear a drone question, "What are you doing?! Don't you want to win?"
George and Dream don't respond and they turn to look at the drop before them. Dream squeezes George's hand once, and George returns the squeeze.
"Three," George whispers, "two..."
"One," Dream breathes.
And so they jump.
George's eyes squeeze shut as air bites at his skin, and he braces for impact.
But when they do hit something, it isn't the ground. George's eyes open, his heart in his throat. He laughs at the sight and sensation of a large, white net that caught them. He looks at Dream, eyes gleaming, who returns his laugh.
They look at the drones who had put out a net to catch them. These drones don't belong to the press, though, they belong to the arena makers. Their purple metal gleams under the sunlight as they pull George and Dream up.
The other drones seem to have disappeared.
"We did it," George whispers, looking at Dream.
"We did it," Dream breathes, letting out a light laugh.
Their laughter ends when they're pulled to the ground. They step off the net, hearts racing in excitement and adrenaline. A gold drone approaches them, and George knows exactly who it belongs to.
President Nihachu speaks through the speaker, her tone tight and forced, "Please follow the drones out to where you'll receive your prize."
George and Dream share grins and do as they're told. They hold hands as they follow the whirring machines through the arena. They stop at the wall of the dome, where a door opens, white lights illuminating their path.
The air seems more stale in the hall, but the smell clears when they're taken up by an elevator. They walk down another hallway, a sliver of light peeking out at the end. George can hear the anxious clamor of the crowd. He squeezes Dream's hand for reassurance. Dream squeezes back.
The feeling of the sun hits George's skin, and he can tell the difference from the arena sun, it's slight, but the difference is there. The people outside scream and shout in excitement at the sight of the players. They're fenced off and purple officials make sure they stay that way.
George and Dream are incredibly dirty, but no one seems to care. Everyone is swept up with the excitement and shock of two winners.
The President stands on a raised platform, back straight and posture tense. Her gold jumpsuit glistens under the sun, and her gilded mask does the same. George and Dream approach her, pride written over their features.
Nihachu shakes their hands, exclaiming, "Congratulations!"
George and Dream say their thanks and Nihachu raises her hand. The crowd silences immediately. She walks to the podium, where a speaker sits. George and Dream's sector representatives, Wilbur and Bad, stand behind her.
Wilbur smiles at George, proud, but something lingers behind his eyes. George can't tell what it is.
The President announces into the speaker, "We have not one, but two winners this year! Everyone congratulate them!" The crowd responds with cheers and applause. When they quiet, Nihachu continues, "Dream, from Sector 2, and George, from Sector 7, have successfully won the Immortal Games!
"They have sacrificed a lot to be here," Nihachu says, glancing at the two of them, "and two winners gives us a new excitement for next year's Games! Give them another round of applause."
The crowd cheers again and Nihachu gestures for the two of them to follow her. George and Dream follow her, they don't even bother to acknowledge the crowd. Their sector representatives follow behind them. The President leads them into Halcyon Hall.
Eventually, she turns to them, a smile visible through the mouth of her mask. "Congratulations again! We will have a dinner tomorrow to discuss your win. See you then!"
She smiles again before leaving. George turns to Dream, grinning.
Dream whispers excitedly, "We did it, George! We won together!"
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a/n - imagine if there was one more person left and Dream and George just died for nothing lmao
you aren't ready for what's next >:)
love you lots <3