"I will let you down, let me go."
Flames
R3HAB, Zayn, Jungleboi
⚠️Warning near drowning. Car situations⚠️
"George, I'm fine."
With a soft towel George cleaned up the blood from Dream's lip and the little beneath his eye. His jawline would bruise more than it already started to show with a gentle purple over sun kissed skin. Ignoring Dream entirely he slowly cleaned over every scratch and every bruise the fighting ring brought on. Thumbs caressing over the tight spot on his neck where Dream was choked.
The more he looked the more he started to panic beneath a lackluster expression. Like he was so trained to do every emotion ran beneath his heart instead of his features. All of these bruises were his fault. The jawline, the neck, the ones on his arms. Dream was put in danger because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. His parents would be so disappointed, honestly, he was disappointed in himself for them. It was a simple task, to not speak. Keep things cordial. Yet there he was like some kind of idiot looking to start a fight he couldn't win. Not to mention whatever race he was about to endure.
"George." Softer this time, Dream gripped his hand and kissed the knuckles. "I'm alright."
He blinked back into the present as best he could and nodded. Making to pack up the tiny first aid kit one by one, Dream simply observed him like a fish in a tank. George would race in a few hours with Dream's car. It was the only one he'd driven other than his own and that one was still in the garage back at the house hours away. He didn't think he'd make it out of this race. And maybe that wasn't an optimistic outlook, but somehow he could feel it. Everything felt wrong. And off. And nothing would shut his head up. It kept going. And going. Until nothing but the raze sound of ringing held his eardrums captive and seized his breath.
"George," Dream pulled him into an embrace, stopping the escalation in its tracks. "We're fine. I'm breathing, you're breathing, okay? Feel?"
Bringing a shaking hand up, Dream pulled him the rest of the way to his heart. With the torn fabric of his shirt, George could feel skin and the gentle thump of his loverboy's heart. Steady despite everything. He sighed and didn't let go.
"I'm not living through this race."
Dream's lips found home in the fluffy parts of George's ruffled hair. Unmoving like this was a reassurance.
"The Sea wall is a difficult race to win," he admitted, "but you won't die from it. If the car goes into the water you break a window and swim out. There's a knife in my center console."
George shuttered at the thought, "The wall will only fit one car."
"One and a half," tender fingers grazed over his ear, "if you can keep two tires on the wall the car will coast, coast for too long and the car rolls into the water... upside down. How do you get out of a sinking car?"
"Break the window and swim out... there's a knife in the center console."
"Good boy."
"Dream," George wanted to reprimand him, but that would cause a riff and he believed if they separated from one another right then he'd turn to liquid on the floor. "I..."
"You go 30 on the wall." His voice sounded tight now, trembling as much as George's fingertips. "And press his ass out of your lane. What do you do if your car goes into the water?"
"Dream..."
Both hands cupped at George's cheeks, he shook him slightly. "Tell me you know what to do if your car goes into the water."
"I break a window and swim out. Knife in the center console."
"And don't you dare wear that seat belt." George searched his eyes for anything else other than his own shaken mindset, but even level headed Dream looked whiplashed. "Do you hear me? It'll lock you under water. Okay?"
"Okay." He pulled back to nod, "Why can't I just leave the window open?"
"There's a storm. The wind will shake the car more with it open, harder to control. Or your opponent will sabotage you through it."
George didn't feel any better with this strategic speech; it was only making his impending death feel more real. He swallowed thickly, "Who am I racing?"
"He goes by Corpse. He doesn't show his face and he is a reckless driver. Foolish's best subject."
"Great." Now George started pacing. Pulled out of Dream's touch like he was burned, the steps echoed in the empty training room. It's where they used to hold court for the crew, now abandoned in favor of the arena. This room felt even worse than the musk filled arena, as it was filled with dark shadowy masks for guards.
"After my own actions have been the direct cause of your hazardous battering, I'm simultaneously going to sink your new car in the sea while hoping I don't drown in the process." He scoffed and paced harder, arms gripping his midsection like a lifeline. "Quackity is livid, Karl and Sapnap are compelled to watch this pan out, and you, well... I have too long of a list don't I?"
"List of what, Daredevil?" Dream seemed to have retracted his worry to channel it into apathy. And maybe a long time ago that would have comforted George, but something flipped within a year. Now it brought up an outlet to why. He bit his lip at the possibilities of a small action.
"My dissatisfactions to you," he gestured vaguely, the same hand raking through his hair a second later. "There is a list beginning with my sordid differentiation from Juniper, to the fact that I mess everything up almost purposely because there's something indubitably wrong with me since Final Flame."
Dream crossed his arms and shook his head, "What does June have to do with any of this?"
Something about the way he used a nickname stabbed him somewhere. But what the actual fuck does that even mean, it's not like Dream could get back with her she's dead. George stopped mid pace and felt sick about his own thoughts. Because not only had he just compared himself to a dead girl but he'd also felt incredibly jealous over the same dead girl. Would he still be with her if she hadn't died?
"Nothing," he reigned it all in within a moment. Silence comes easy as he shut everything else out. "Never mind. Come on. We need to go get your car."
"Wait," Dream snagged his wrist a little harder than necessary. It seemed like an angry gesture to George but Dream was simply confused. "Talk to me. You can't just freak out, dump a bunch of fancy vocabulary on my plate about June and Final Flame, then act like it's not important."
"It's not," George insisted, "I am simply nervous. That is all. I apologize."
"George," Dream stood up and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. George averted his own towards the door and hoped this didn't turn into another argument. He was so tired of pushing and pulling each other constantly. Fun in the right context, yes. When it felt like this, no. "I don't want an apology. Look it's-"
"It's time to go," Karl poked his head into the room and eyed the tense situation. A raised brow at George like he wanted a full explanation. "Racers need to be on the start line in an hour and it takes half of that to get there."
George nodded and pulled gently from Dream's instant grip.
***
He was doomed. Looming over the narrow track, George swallowed the bile pilling up in his throat. It was easy for the first part. The road was open like a parking lot that drew out into a long pier. And at the end of a maybe half mile long sea wall it opened up into another wide parking lot. Cars lined up to watch the carnage.
Corpse, the other racer, spared him a glance and shook his hand but didn't say a word to him. All George had heard of this man was rumors. Dark and twisted like the so-called tone of his voice.
He thought maybe he could win, by miracle. At least maybe make it to the other side without crashing into the waves. The stupid speech with Dream an hour prior was not helping his mental case. By now George was already planning how things would turn out after his death and or when they returned safely to the house.
A flag boy took his stance before the two cars signaling them to start their engines. George took in a final breath, drowning out all the thoughts of suffocating or sharks in the water and turned the key to Dream's car. This would be much easier in his Porsche but there he was. Starting the Toyota like Dream had so many times.
The engine purred to life as he pressed the gas a bit. Hand on the gearshift. He didn't buckle his seatbelt as Dream's voice came through, loud and clear inside the depths of his mind. Corpse started his engine beside him. Red lights lit up like stars along the driver's side door of his black Honda NSX. The engine sounded foul, like it's been through hell and back and was still driving. Suddenly a spike of something lipped into George's bloodstream.
He hadn't felt alive since Final Flame. Something died on that track and left George feeling scared. Empty. Like something was missing, and here it was. Swimming vigorously through his heart and into his ears he felt the adrenaline. The excitement. Staring down the sea wall, he revved the engine with a grin. Lights bright and eyes ahead, the flag boy raised the checkered fabric to the sky.
Then the flag fell and George stepped on the gas taking the lead. The road felt rough under the tires. Like driving over beads or pearls. It shook George's car as he shifted gears. Water hissed up from the waves crashing into the sea wall as he drove over the road almost cautiously. Biting at the tires and hissing at his windows, George flicked on the windshield wipers to clear the residue on his front windshield.
In the dark skin a strike of lighting cursed through the clouds and struck the water next to him. George flinched and swerved a bit, speed slowing down. This gave Corpse just enough time to catch up with him. The Honda noses up close to George's rearmed and tapped him along the bumper. A moment later he tried to squeeze George left to overtake him. George pressed hard left and took the lead easier than he'd thought he would. He gunned it and picked up speed, Corpse followed.
Then the rain started and it made everything hard to see. George felt his hand shaking with the rush as he slowed down to make it through the downpour. The road dipped in random spots and as it started raining, the dips filled to the brim with water. If George hit the water too hard he'd spin out. And he knew if he spun out there was nowhere to go other than the water beneath them. It was asking for him as well, welcoming him with a condescending wave. Lighting struck right in front of him.
As George slowed down once again Corpse came up beside him and pushed his car over to make room. George swerved a bit but inevitably pushed up against Corpse's car. They were on the home stretch. Maybe a 1000 feet from the finish line. This would work, the only problem was that the sea wall grew smaller before it opened up for the ending parking lot. Only one of them would fit through the road. The other would have to fall behind or go into the water. George revved forward, but so did Corpse.
They were 500 feet away. More lightning struck, landing in the water next to Corpse. He paid no mind, pulling up his mask and pushing his speed a little hard. George was starting to worry as they hit 200 feet. 100 feet. As a last minute decision George swerved. The nose of the Toyota cut Corpse off as he skidded. Two tires remained as he skidded over the narrow wall sideways. A second later the flag indicated his win.
George's car rocked to a stop and he took in a heavy breath, shooting over to see if his opponent made the road. Through thick rain and heavy wind Corpse's car shook as he entered the narrow path. Then lightning struck before his front tire. The car swerved and Corpse went straight into the water.
A crowd was forming as they all stood and watched to see if he'd resurface. It'd been a full minute already. George didn't wait any longer. He honestly didn't realize he was moving before he dove into the water, knife in hand. Screams were sounding from the surface as he opened his eyes to murky water hazed by rain.
Corpse's car wasn't very deep, but he was stuck beneath the water. Seat belt stuck in its lock. George swam up to the driver door and pulled on it luckily finding it to open. Corpse was starting to lose consciousness, as he's been beneath water for two and a half minutes at this point. Wrenching the door agape, George leaned in and dug the knife into the seat belt lock. His lungs were starting to burn and he popped the plastic releasing the metal.
Corpse felt like dead weight as he dragged him from the car. Struggling to the surface. The air felt like heaven as he coughed and yelled up at the crowd, "Help, he's not breathing!"
The first person to get to them was Dream reaching out for them. Two more people came up to pull Corpse to the shore, George a second later. He fell on his knees beside his opponent and watched breathlessly as Dream performed mouth-to-mouth. It took three tries. Three chest pumps and three bouts of air before Corpse shot up coughing out water. Sitting back on his heels, Dream pat Corpse on the back as he regained his breath.
"Fuck," the guy said. George huffed at the immediate tone of this guy's voice, feeling relief instantly. "That was sick!"
"You alright?" Corpse gripped Dream's arm and nodded, then he said to George, "You're insane. Thank you. Profusely. Thank you."
George, in a bit of a shock, shook his head and said, "Yeah. Of course."
A few moments later Corpse's friends came up and hauled him to his feet patting him on the back for his loss as well as his near death. The ground smelled of sea salt and felt grimy but George fell on his ass and ran his hands over rough asphalt.
"What the hell, George?" Dream's snap caused him to flinch. Shoulders pulled taunt beneath soaked clothes and drenched hair. "What were you thinking?"
"I don't..."
Rough hands gripped his cheeks a moment later, "You are an idiot. And reckless. You stupid Daredevil, you could've died!"
"I know," he said. "I apologize. But I wasn't just gonna watch as he drowned!"
Dream kissed him. Gentle and hard all in the same motion. Like relief and regret they're meeting in the middle to absolve a long cold war. George relaxed at the motion, realizing Dream wasn't mad. He was more or less scared. Hands shaking as they ventured into George's wet hair.
"I frightened you?"
His forehead pressed against Dream's temple, "Yes, angel. You did."
George let out a weak breath, "Call me 'angel' ever again and I'll bite your dick off the next time I blow you."
"Fine, not an angel," Dream said. Pulled away to brush thumbs over George's cheeks like he was breakable, Dream sighed. "I'm going to be terrified my whole life with you, aren't I?"
Forever. He felt warm despite the cold water and rain drenching them slowly.
"If you want me that long," he whispered.
"I don't want anyone else, idiot."
George rolled his eyes, "Fuck you."
"If you're up for it, Daredevil." The smirk was godly in a way.
George stood up, knees weak from the man in front of him, and gripped Dream's hand. "I can't stand you."
"I love you too." Well now the warmth was eating him alive. Wrapping him up until he could barely breathe... or maybe it was just Karl. Arms suddenly around him like an octopus, a leg around his hip to hold him in place.
"George! You freak!" Falling into the embrace he watched Sapnap saunter towards them over Karls rain-wet shoulder. "I thought you were gonna have to go for a swim!"
"He did swim," Sapnap said. "Just, you know, to save his opponent like some kind of hero."
"Fuck off," George hummed holding Karl closer, "I'll keep him you know?"
"You wouldn't." Karl simply giggled in his ear until Dream pried them apart and pulled George's back flush against his front.
"Where's Quackity?"
"Right here you bitch." Divulging from the crowd he held a plastic shark in one hand and a stack of cash in the other. Specifically, 100 dollar bills. "The deal is settled. For now. And this is yours. A grand for winning the race, another for saving deep voice guy's life."
George held the money between his hands for a moment before reaching back and stuffing it into the front pocket of Dream's jeans. Hand caressing his thigh a little longer than necessary. The adrenaline had finally dropped out and his weight was starting to feel like too much. It didn't look like it, but Dream was holding George up by most of his weight. Hands ghosts over his shoulders.
Karl cheered and threw an arm over Quackity's shoulder, "Can we get out of the rain now?"
George leaned back against Dream's chest fully, "Can we go home?"
Before he dropped out completely Dream kissed below his ear whispering quiet endearments. Reassuring his safety.
The next time he woke up he was in new clothes, wrapped in a blanket, Dream's hand in his over the gearshift, and the open road back home.
A/n
What's gonna happen now?!
Thank you for reading. 💚